The Conjuration Wizard

by dustor7689

Chapters

Sebastian
Mountains
Intentions
Hope
Downpour
Blue
Hilam
Worm
Teaification
Court
Leash
Strength
Wondrous
Rain
Promise
Badlands
Bogg
Scars
Rest
Ditched
Gala
Forgettable
Feathers
Chaos
Hypocrite
Silver
Golden
Gifts
Mira
Impending
Conspiracy
Cessation
Pact
Ascension
Perspicacity
Propitious
Hate
Distraction
Dance
Matrimony
Date
Rearmed
Departure
Damnātiō
Return
Prestidigitation
Inquiry
Gathering
Summit
Synthetic
Heart

Sebastian

Author's Note

Touched up. The plot remains the same, but readability has been improved.

12/12/2024

Sebastian

Another weekend of fun, games, and roleplaying.

This weekend I had the rare opportunity to step into the role of a player, temporarily hanging up my usual hat as the game master. This particular session managed to stretch on for a few hours longer than our typical ones.

As farewells were exchanged and I began my journey back to my house, a desire to continue playing with the boys tugged at me. But the hour had grown late, well past midnight judging by my phone’s lock screen. And I had made a promise to one of my fellow players to dedicate some time tonight to watch the first two episodes of My Little Pony. I'm a man of my word, so I always make good on my promises — if and when I can.

After making it back home and watching both of the promised episodes, I found myself pleasantly surprised to be genuinely enjoying it. To the point where I found myself eager to watch on. I guess my friend has good taste in shows after all, or maybe it was just this one. I’d have to tell them that I rather liked the show after all.

Making my way to fetch myself a nice and refreshing glass of water, I filled it up to the brim and raised it to my lips. As I closed my eyes to savor that cool, hydrating water, a peculiar sensation washed over me. It was as though I was instantly submerged in electrified water for a fraction of a second. Energy surged through me, and just as quickly as the sensation came, it left.

In an instant, the familiar ambiance of my air-conditioned kitchen gave way to the crisp embrace of a natural breeze. My eyes snapped open, and I whirled about, startling myself and some owl that took flight from my shoulder and soared, circling overhead.

“The fuck?!” I exclaimed in my bewilderment.

To my astonishment, I found myself shorter in stature, no longer quite my usual height. Glancing down, I could see that I was now wearing flowing purple robes, complete with a satchel, various pouches that seemed to serve as pockets, and a book dangling from my belt by a chain. Needless to say this is not my normal getup.

“Why am I dressed like a stereotypical wizard?” I asked aloud, and naturally no one responded. “Where the hell am I anyway?”

As I scanned the room, my eyes locked onto a throne atop a dilapidated dais. My breath caught. It was unmistakable — the very same throne from the second episode. But how could it be here?

“No. This is impossible. This has to be a hallucination or—” My self-reassurance was cut short by a sharp thwack as the owl swooped down, landing squarely on my shoulder and delivering a pointed peck to the side of my head.

“Dammit, Aldin!” I snapped, my whole body jolting with the unexpected jab. But then it hit me.

“The robes… the owl… the spellbook… I’m shorter!” I muttered, a strange mixture of panic and awe overtaking me. “This… this is me! Or, not me. My wizard! My first wizard character? In Equestria? What? Why? How?”

I frantically tore through the pouches hanging from my belt and the satchel strapped to my side, searching frantically for answers. My hands brushed against a spellbook and a component pouch but found no sign of wands, no potions or scrolls, or any of the wondrous items that had defined Meridin at his higher levels of power.

“I must be — for lack of a better phrase — inside Meridin as he was freshly created at level one,” I muttered, rubbing my chin. “The inventory, Aldin, the spellbook, no mythic power… it all fits. But am I really without mythic power?”

Closing my eyes, I focused inward, searching for any hint of untapped energy — a hidden well of power waiting to be drawn. I held my breath. Felt nothing. “Nope. Not a spark of the mythical,” I sighed.

I could live without mythical power. Magic by itself was more than enough for me.

Turning to a nearby window, I wiped away years of grime, revealing a warped but serviceable reflection. My face stared back, younger by a few years — barely twenty, at a guess. Clean-shaven, with brown-almost-black hair framing sharper-than-expected features.

Leaning closer, I squinted to catch the details. Hazel eyes gleamed in the dim light, and a grin spread as I confirmed a full set of teeth. “Good start,” I mused. “But there’s one last thing to check…”

Awkwardly wrestling with my robes, I managed a quick, discreet inspection. My smirk widened. “Well, well. A few more inches down there. Things really are looking up.” With a chuckle, I adjusted my robes and turned back to the room, a spark of humor breaking through the surreal circumstances.

My smirk crumbled like a sandcastle beneath a relentless tide, the weight of Aldin's emotions crashing over me through what could only be our empathic link. Though his words remained a mystery, the sensation was unmistakable.

Fear.

The air behind me thickened, a heavy presence pressing down like a storm cloud. My body went rigid as dread sank its claws into my chest. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. There was no one else it could be.

Nightmare Moon.

Warm breath tickled my ear, and a silky, venomous voice followed, low and far too close. "Well, what do we have here?"

My thoughts immediately spiraled. When had she gotten so close? How had she managed to creep behind me without a sound? Oh gods, she’s going to flay me alive, isn’t she? My skin is too smooth for this! I like my skin! I’m so fucked.

She stepped into view, her midnight coat gleaming faintly in the dim light, her lips curled in a fang-filled smile that was anything but reassuring. Her eyes raked over me, sharp and calculating. "I don’t believe I’ve seen your kind before. What manner of creature are you?"

Think, Sebastian. Think! You've outmaneuvered death in worse situations — or at least your characters have. Panic fought to take over, but I clung to a desperate lifeline: what would a bard do? Those charming lunatics could escape anything with a few well-placed words.

Falling back on bard tactics… truly these are dark times. I’m so boned.

Swallowing hard, I adopted an air of composure that I didn’t feel a shred of, brushed nonexistent dust from my robes before dipping into what I hoped was a suitably respectful bow. Above, Aldin’s restless circling betrayed my nerves.

"Your Royal Highness, Nightmare Moon, I am Sebastian Hilam, a humble human wizard," I declared, my voice far steadier than I felt. "The ancient prophecies foretold of your glorious return, and I am honored to witness it."

Her gaze sharpened, as if she could peel back the layers of my very soul. "Strange... You know who I am, yet my little ponies have forgotten. Why is that?"

"They lack the vision to appreciate the beauty of your night, Your Majesty," I replied with a level of smoothness that surprised me. All the while praying to every god I could think of in hopes that she wouldn’t notice the sweat threatening to pour down my forehead.

Her eyes narrowed. "And what brings you to my domain, human?" Her voice dripped with menace, the kind that made me wonder if she was already deciding how to use me for target practice.

Wizard apprentice. It was the classic go-to.

At least if I died, it’d make for one hell of a story. Desperate times, desperate measures.

I tucked my chin further into my chest and deepened my bow, almost groveling. “Princess Nightmare Moon, I have ventured here in hopes that you may take me on as your humble apprentice!”

A crushing silence descended, each heartbeat pounding louder than the last. Oh gods, she’s not saying anything! The seconds dragged, every moment feeding my rising panic. This is it! She’s going to kill me! I’m going straight to the Boneyard!

At last, her voice shattered the oppressive stillness, laced with dark authority. "Very well. Wait here, human. Touch nothing in this chamber," she commanded, her tone a promise of dire consequences should I disobey. "I have pressing matters to attend to. Upon my return, we shall see if you are worthy to serve me."

With that, she dissipated into a swirl of inky mist, and vanished from sight.

Aldin fluttered down from his agitated circling, landing on my right shoulder. Through our bond, I could feel his nerves settling, though his talons gripped me just a little tighter than usual.

"Well, that was fun," I muttered, swiping a trembling hand across my sweat-dampened forehead. "Let’s find a place to lay low and watch without getting ourselves vaporized."

I surveyed the chamber carefully, finally spotting a good location. Between two thick pillars near a large window, there was just enough space to remain inconspicuous. As inconspicuous as one could be in a near empty room. Quietly, I maneuvered over and leaned against one of the columns, Aldin adjusting his perch as I settled in to wait.

With nothing better to do, I cracked open my spellbook and began poring over its pages. To my amazement, the text wasn’t just intelligible — it felt innate, like a part of me I hadn’t known existed until now. Every arcane diagram, every sigil and notation, seemed to hum with familiarity, like rediscovering an old talent.

As I flipped through its pages, a realization hit me. If I really was in Meridin’s form, then I should know Draconic, Celestial, Abyssal, and Sylvan! The ultimate nerd package!

“Not exactly the most practical languages in Equestria, except for perhaps Draconic,” I mused aloud, glancing at Aldin perched on my shoulder. “But they’ll be invaluable for summons. And honestly? It sounds pretty badass to use.”

I closed the book for a moment, my mind drifting. “What was Meridin’s school again?” I tapped my chin. “Oh, right! Conjuration — Teleportation subschool! Before all the ‘Flexible School’ Archmage shenanigans, of course.”

Aldin tilted his head, his unblinking gaze granting him an unflappable demeanor that reminded that he couldn’t answer me yet. “Right, right, no talking yet. But you’re definitely listening, aren’t you?”

I grinned as I pieced it together. “If my stats carried over, I should have seven uses of Shift per day.” Excitement surged through me as I focused on the spell. Channeling that inherent understanding of arcane energy, I visualized myself shifting.

“Okay, okay. Let’s test this out.” Drawing on my newfound arcane instincts, I focused on the concept of blinking out of existence. A flicker of energy surged through me, and in the blink of an eye, I reappeared five feet from my starting point.

With a blink, I vanished, reappearing five feet ahead in an instant.

“Yes!” I threw my hands in the air, nearly dislodging Aldin as he squawked indignantly. “I’m a wizard!” Scooping him into my arms, I twirled around with an unabashed laugh. “Do you hear that, Aldin? A fucking wizard!”

Aldin emitted a soft trill, his amusement tinged with a dash of annoyance that bled through our link.

To test my newfound knowledge, I tried speaking random phrases in each of my languages. Draconic rolled off the tongue with a guttural elegance, Celestial sang with divine grace, Abyssal dripped with malevolence, and Sylvan sounded like wind through the trees. Anime quotes and pop culture references in these tongues were particularly entertaining, and left me grinning like an idiot the entire time.

Satisfied, I turned my focus to my cantrips: Prestidigitation, Mage Hand, and Detect Magic. Under Mage Hand’s control, a small pile of rubble floated through the air, only to collapse into untidy heaps moments later when I let go of my concentration. With Prestidigitation, I wiped away years — maybe centuries — of grime from the nearest window, leaving it gleaming like freshly polished crystal.

“Not bad, huh?” I asked Aldin, gesturing to my handiwork.

Aldin blinked at me, his silence somehow validating my efforts.

Switching gears, I activated Detect Magic. The arcane pulse revealed faint traces of an aura lingering in the room — the remnants of Nightmare Moon’s mist. It clung to the air like an otherworldly shadow, a blend of starlight and malice. Was it actually mist? Shadows? Cosmic leftovers? I had no idea, and frankly, I wasn’t going to ask her. That mare is terrifying.

Despite knowing it was futile, I tried analyzing the magical residue, treating it as a self-imposed challenge. I got nowhere, of course, but the effort wasn’t entirely wasted — it sharpened my senses and reinforced the importance of pushing limits, even with unattainable knowledge.

My musings were interrupted by the sudden arrival of Nightmare Moon, accompanied by none other than Twilight Sparkle and the orb-like forms of the Elements of Harmony. Halting my cantrip practice, I shifted my focus entirely to the unfolding drama.

New fear unlocked: What if this isn’t a canonical universe? What if Twilight and her friends screw up, and Nightmare Moon wins?

I gulped. "Aldin, I am not built for evil apprentice life," I whispered. "Being apprenticed to a potentially insane demi-god doesn’t exactly scream ‘job security.’ She’ll end up skinning me alive if they mess this up!”

A pang of guilt surprised me with its presence. A thousand years of solitude would break anyone, right? No wonder she’s so... frightening. Damn it, now I feel bad for her.

The confrontation played out almost exactly like the show. Twilight and Nightmare Moon charged at one another, and Twilight pulled her teleportation stunt. The initial spark failed, sending her flying. Nightmare Moon destroyed the orbs with a laugh so deliciously villainous I couldn’t help but nod.

“Okay, that is an amazing evil laugh,” I muttered in genuine admiration. “Aldin, you’ve got to admit, if Nightmare wins, there could be perks. Free villain lessons, for one!”

Aldin gave me a side-eye that screamed, ‘You’re insane.’

But the Elements quickly rallied, and the bearers began to glow. A dazzling light filled the room, forcing me to avert my eyes.

“Oh, look, Aldin,” I muttered. “This is where she gets blasted by a rainbow. Not the worst way to go, all things considered.”

Sure enough, a swirling rainbow erupted from the bearers, arcing toward Nightmare Moon. Her scream of terror echoed through the chamber as the magic engulfed her, ending her reign in a swirl of light and color.

When the radiance faded, only Luna remained.

"Well, I'd say this turned out rather well, wouldn't you agree, best-buddy?" I remarked, unsurprisingly receiving no response from my new feathered friend.

Instead, he departed from my shoulder and landed atop the still unconscious Princess Luna. I watched in astonishment as Aldin began to gently nuzzle Luna, rousing her from her slumber.

“Aldin, the fuck? You just pecked me!” I muttered to myself half-heartedly.

A light appeared behind me. The sun has risen with Nightmare’s defeat. Good, I like some nighttime action but nighttime without the option of daytime is a real bitch.

Leaning forward, I noticed that Nightmare Moon’s armor was turning not into dust, but into a purplish mist filled with stars.

“Ok. That is metal as fuck.” I whispered to myself.

Princess Celestia approached, casting a towering presence over her sister. I was so distracted with the pieces of armor I hadn’t noticed her arrival.

"It has been a thousand years since I last saw you like this," Celestia spoke softly as she lowered herself to Luna's level. "It is time to set aside our differences. We were destined to rule together, my dear sister."

Resting my cheek against my fist, I observed the tender scene unfolding before me as the bearers of the Elements of Harmony expressed their astonishment.

"She has a sister?" one of them exclaimed in disbelief.

"Wow! They really were unaware that their ruler — who moves the sun around — has a sister?" I mused aloud to Aldin as he returned to his customary perch on my shoulder. “Wait! Aldin, are alicorns gods, demigods, or just stronger than the average pony?”

Princess Celestia enveloped Princess Luna in a tight looking hug, and they shared a moment, only slightly interrupted by the murmurs of awe from the assembled ponies.

As the two alicorns concluded their exchange and turned their attention towards the gathered ponies, introductions ensued, leaving me feeling somewhat excluded. However, my sense of detachment swiftly dissipated when Luna whispered something to her sister, prompting the pair to approach me.

"Wait a minute... didn’t I just essentially declare myself as Nightmare Moon's number one biggest fan and aspiring apprentice? Fuck me with a rusty tire iron," I muttered under my breath, a sinking feeling settling in my gut.

Before I could fully process the implications of my ill-conceived declarations, the two alicorns confronted me, effectively backing me in a corner. Both figuratively and literally.

"Sebastian Hilam," Luna addressed me with a tone of finality. "Nightmare Moon is no more. Return to whence you came and abandon your misguided pursuit of her."

Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I decided to abandon any pretense and opt for honesty — honesty is the best policy after all. That of course was just what I told myself to help myself cope. The truth was that I couldn’t lie to save my life. My lie to Nightmare was probably just a fluke. Besides, I just know that lying would result in me inevitably fucking up the lie at some point, or the lie coming to bite me in the ass somewhere down the road.

"I don’t like lying, so I'll keep it real with you," I began, steeling myself for their reaction. "I made all that shit up out of sheer panic — no idea how I pulled that off. Patting myself on the back for that one! I never wanted to become Nightmare Moon's apprentice. In reality, the situation is that I've been transported to this reality from a world where your existence is fictional. Nightmare Moon caught me off guard, and I lied so she wouldn’t introduce me to CBT."

With the confession laid bare, I braced myself for their response. My eyes homed in on the spot of the stone floor where Nightmare Moon’s helmet dissipated.

It was Celestia who spoke next, her tone almost surgical in nature. "Is there anything else you wish to tell us?"

The question hung in the air like a execution’s axe, just waiting to fall. I debated my options. I could keep quiet and hope the rest of the truth never surfaced — less risky for the moment. Or I could come clean, facing the unknown but potentially avoiding worse consequences later.

The first option almost won, but Celestia’s gaze pinned me in place. She knew. Somehow, she already knew I was about to lie.

“Ah, screw it," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. I’d already said enough to doom myself a dozen times over; what was one more nail in the coffin?

The tagline of the show was ‘Friendship is Magic’. What’s the worst that could happen?

“This isn’t my real body... or, more accurately, it’s not my original body," I admitted, each word tasting more absurd than the last. "I created him for a tabletop game I used to play with friends. What you see right now? He’s just a character from one of those stories. I have no idea how I ended up like this! One second, I’m drinking water, and the next thing I know, I’m shorter, casting spells, and doing wizard stuff!"

I could feel cold sweat trickling down my back as the words spilled out. Any second now, I was expecting rainbow death beams or a good old-fashioned zap-to-ash scenario or I’m going to a nice padded cell somewhere.

Oh gods… what if they lobotomized me?!

Luna decided my fate, "For now, Sebastian Hilam, you shall remain in Canterlot until a decision is reached."

Relief flooded through me. It seems like I won’t swing from the gallows just yet.

Luna tilted her head slightly and asked, “There is one thing that confounds me, what is ‘CBT’?”

I couldn’t match her gaze or keep a straight face as I gave my reply. “Cock and Ball Torture…”

Celestia experienced a sudden bout of coughs. A choking noise could be heard coming from one of the six bearers.

I held my hands up, “Hey, I ain’t judging no one! I’m just saying its not for me, and I want my twig and berries in one piece!”

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The Everfree wasn’t so bad.

As long as you’re being accompanied by two goddesses, and their merry band of misfits who happen to be packing magical artifacts that can one shot this world’s version of a deity.

All of the ponies were understandably curious, and they bombarded me with questions. I did my best to answer each one. It was hard to not enjoy divulging what was essentially tabletop lore, and the lively conversation helped pass the time as we traversed the Everfree.

Rainbow Dash, flying alongside us, was the most eager to throw out her question. "So, what exactly is a 'tabletop game'? Is it like Chutes and Ladders or Monopoly?"

"Wait, you guys have Chutes and Ladders, and Monopoly here?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Why wouldn't we?" Rainbow Dash retorted as though my question was the crazy one.

"You know what? I have no idea," I chuckled. "But to answer your question: tabletop games like the one my friends and I play focused more on playing a character than something like Monopoly."

As the conversation marched on, Fluttershy spoke up. ‘Spoke’ would be too generous, whispered would be more accurate. "Who is your owl friend? If you don't mind me asking…"

“Why, this is my best-buddy, Aldin,” I said while delivering pets to Aldin, who preened at the attention. “He’s my familiar.”

I realized further explanation was required by the blank looks I received. I took up a studious tone, pushing up glasses that I no longer had on my face, “A familiar is a creature that is linked to a spellcaster through an empathic link. Through this link we share emotions and grow stronger together.”

Aldin decided it was time to get attention from another, and made himself at home atop the head of Fluttershy. To my surprise Fluttershy didn’t shy away from Aldin, but instead she began talking to him.

And before long she was laughing and petting him too!

This is the thanks I get for saving our asses from being flayed? That little traitor.

Applejack spoke up next, “What this about a ‘character’?”

"Meridin was his name, and by the end of his life, he racked up quite a few titles," I took a moment to reflect on his story, a hint of nostalgic-amusement crept into my tone. "Meridin the Archmage. Meridin the Bastard! Last one’s my personal favorite."

Chuckling softly at the flashes of memories that arose as I thought of him, I recounted the little blurb I whipped up oh so long ago, "Meridin was born into a family of nobles who have fallen on hard times. In a desperate attempt to pay off their debts and regain their good standing amongst their fellow noblemen, they turned to a cult of demon worshipers for help. The cult promised them a second chance at life, riches beyond imagination! That was a lie, of course, but as they say: a thirsty man in the desert doesn’t question the water."

I unconsciously rubbed at my left shoulder, a phantom pain flashed across my torso for a moment. I ignored it and continued Meridin’s tale, “A mishap occurred in the calling ritual, and as a result his family was slaughtered by a particularly ‘merciful’ vrock — a demon of wrath. Who also decided it would be a fun pastime to ‘raise’ little Meridin.”

"Why would anypony do such a thing?" Applejack sounded particularly disturbed about the family bit of the tale.

I let out a hum and a shrug before I replied, “If my understanding of demons is still accurate, it did it because it loves bloodshed. Bloodshed and dancing. Although the dancing causes more bloodshed, so I guess it's just bloodshed?”

Twilight raised her hoof, and I couldn't help but feel as if I were suddenly cast into the role of a teacher in a classroom. "Yes, Twilight?" I beckoned her to speak.

"Can you explain the titles? Especially the Archmage one!" she inquired eagerly, her enthusiasm for magic evident.

"‘The Bastard’ refers to the fact that Meridin was a grade-A asshole for most of those early years of life," I began, elaborating on Meridin's monikers. “He was the kind of guy you would cross the street to avoid if you recognized him. And 'the Archmage’ is a title he gave himself. He believed himself to be the pinnacle of the arcane arts."

Twilight Sparkle tilted her head. "Was he?"

"For a while he thought himself to be," I explained while watching the branches above us sway in the breeze. "From his point of view it made sense to call himself that. He held within him an amount of Mythic Power that rivaled deities, he had a proficiency with magic that was frightening, and had insane level of willpower. He rarely ever lost a fight that he knew was coming, and he understood very well that he was strong."

Luna regarded me with surprise, her curiosity peaking through. "You don't seem that strong."

"Not yet," I admitted. "If my understanding of the situation is accurate, then this form would be before Meridin gained his Mythic Power or met his friends. Twenty years or so of age, I think. Meridin’s age was always in question. Time works differently in the Abyss…”

Silence descended for a bit. Aldin decided to stop being a traitor for now, and returned to my shoulder. I immediately caved and began petting him again. I can’t say no to that owlish charm!

Celestia’s own question came and broke the silence, “Sebastian, how did Meridin’s story end?”

I paused, meeting Aldin's gaze as a sense of gravity settled over him and I. Through our link I could feel Aldin’s curiosity pique at the question. As if he wanted to know too.

"It ended like every hero's story tends to end: in death," I began solemnly, I suddenly found the leaves of the nearby trees to be especially interesting. “The Material Plane was faced with a formidable foe — an ancient malignance. There wasn’t much time left, or strong enough heroes to answer the call. We had to make a judgment call.”

I looked around, I had their undivided attention, so I continued. “We volunteered for it, naturally. Meridin was the most magically gifted of our merry band of fools. There was no better choice for the role of bait! Together, Aldin and I lured the thing into a trap. A singularity that devoured their very essence.”

“So great was the Singularity that it erased the very concept of their existence from the Great Beyond. It was as though they never existed in the first place.” Recalling that moment, I began to stroke Aldin gently. It all felt more profound than I remembered it to be. “Don’t worry, best-buddy. This time, our tale will be filled with far more joy and far less sadness. I promise it to you, and I always keep my promises.”

Turning to the assembled ponies, I offered them what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Apologies for bringing down the mood. Let's keep going."

As we walked, the ponies and princesses conversed on many various topics, but I found it hard to focus on any of it.

My mind was in turmoil over the details of Meridin’s passing. It shouldn’t have bothered me, yet here I am, wandering through the woods while worrying over a fictional character’s demise. But then again, I am currently surrounded by fictional ponies, in a fictional forest, on a fictional world. The line between fiction and reality might as well not exist anymore.

As I wrangled with myself, Aldin leaned over and nuzzled the side of my head. So those aren’t reserved for just Luna and Fluttershy after all.

“Thanks, Aldin.”

I had to keep reminding myself that he could feel my emotions through our link; it was not a one-sided thing.

This will take some time to adjust to.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Our arrival to Ponyville was quite the spectacle, to say the least. The mayor pulled off one of the most hurried celebrations I’ve ever witnessed, all with a smile that never once left her face.

The princesses, leading a throng of curious ponies, made their way through town. Eventually we gathered in the very room where Nightmare Moon had made her dramatic entrance mere hours before. While Celestia introduced her sister and tasked Twilight with studying the magic of friendship here in Ponyville, I felt a tug on my robes.

Looking down, I froze. A white unicorn filly stared up at me with wide, awestricken eyes. It was adorable, really. The little pony was acting like it had never seen a human before… which I suppose she hasn’t. Nor has any other being in this world.

"Are you one of the Elements of Harmony? Like my sister?" she asked with a kind of innocence that only a child could wield.

I tilted my head, trying to recall if I had seen this little filly before... nothing.

"Unfortunately no. I tried out, but they said I wasn't 'harmonious enough' to make the cut. And apparently, I have too many hands for their liking," I replied with a faux pout.

"Oh, that's too bad!" the filly replied, my sarcasm easily going over her head.

"Say, little one, who's your sister?"

"Rarity!"

"Ah, the marshmallow! She runs a boutique here, right?"

"Yep! The best boutique in Equestria!"

I couldn't help but chuckle at her youthful enthusiasm. "Well, I might have to order a couple of shirts and pants at some point. As much as I enjoy the wizard’s robes, you can’t beat a nice shirt.”

The crowd’s cheering stole my attention, and I glanced towards the crowd. As the crowd began to disperse, I turned to bid the filly farewell, but she had vanished. Only an empty space remained where she had stood.

"Hey, where did that kid go?" I asked the empty space beside me.

Aldin gave me a confused feeling through our bond, and naturally, the space itself remained silent.

A touch on my shoulder, I reacted proportionately, and nearly had a heart attack. "You'll never take my hands!"

Princess Celestia cocked an eyebrow at me. "I have no interest in your hands. Sebastian, are you alright?"

"Just a little on edge after the whole Nightmare Moon ordeal. She popped up behind me in that castle, you know! Nearly gave me a heart attack."

Scanning the room, I saw no trace of the mysterious filly.

"Hey, Princess Celestia, did you happen to see a filly here talking to me?"

She looked around before responding. "No?"

She sounded like a padded cell was waiting for me in my near future.

"Great! Just tired, I guess. Extradimensional travel can really put the tiredness in you, it seems."

Celestia gave me another strange look. "Uh huh. Well, any minute now, a carriage will arrive to take us to Canterlot. You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"Nah, if anything, heights should be afraid of me!" I replied with a smirk of confidence that was very much forced as I tried to brush off the unease creeping into the back of my mind at the mention of heights.

As we embarked on the carriage and ascended into the sky, my knuckles turned white from my death-grip on the carriage railing. Confusion coursed through me, in the past I have never cowered from heights. I’ve flown dozens of times in the past. But here I am, clutching at the railing like a babe clutches at their mother’s bosom.

Aldin, sensing my discomfort, pressed close, offering silent reassurance. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Probably puke.

"Thank you, Aldin. As soon as I can, I'll make a scroll of Feather Fall," I murmured, closing my eyes and focusing on the reassuring sensation of his presence through our link.

“Sebastian, the carriage stopped minutes ago.” Luna spoke as though she was attempting to coax a small child that was irrationally afraid.

Shaking my head free of my fears, I stood tall, “Of course it did! I was simply admiring the fine craftsmanship of the carriage!”

Taking steady steps off said carriage, I offered a sheepish apology. "Sorry! I thought I wasn’t afraid of heights, but flying in a carriage like that must have brought it out of me."

"It is fine,” Celestia waved off my apology with a hoof. “Captain Shining Armor will show you to your room. Stay there for now, and you will be called when you are needed."

A captain to guide me to my room? Surely they have someone lower in ranking to do such a simple task? Why waste a captain on something as minor as guiding someone to a room? I shoved the questions aside.

Eyeing the golden-clad guard stepping up, I nodded, “Sounds good to me. I think I need a nap after all that excitement.”

Offering a quick nod of thanks, I followed the solar guard captain through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. As we walked, I attempted some small talk. Hoping to lighten the mood, or at least make the walk more than a bore.

"So... what do you do in your free time?" I asked, probing my overly qualified guide.

He rubbed the side of his helmeted head for a moment in thought. "Recently, I've been hanging out a lot with my marefriend."

Watching his reaction, I picked up just how excited he got at the opportunity to mention his marefriend. He’s practically begging to talk about this ‘marefriend’ of his. Who was I to deny his desire? Couldn’t hurt to ask.

"Tell me more about this marefriend of yours."

Shining Armor's face brightened even more, and he took up a fond expression as he talked. The rest of our walk, he spoke non-stop about his marefriend. His last date with her, some of her likes and dislikes, something about a ladybug dance, all sorts of minor details. It was refreshing to hear someone passionate about something speaking about it so openly.

This Cadance of his is one lucky mare.

“Oh!” Shining stopped abruptly in front of an unassuming door. “Looks like we’re here already! Next time, I’ll try not to talk your ear off.”

He gestured towards the door, and I stepped forward to open it.

The room beyond was unexpectedly luxurious: a king-sized bed dominated the space, complemented by a sturdy desk and chair, an empty bookshelf ready to be filled, a personal bathroom complete with a tub, and even a private balcony overlooking the city streets below.

I took a step inside and let out a low whistle. “Damn, this is one hell of a room.”

Shining laughed from the hallway. “Duty calls! I’ll leave you to settle in. Catch you later.”

“Take it easy,” I called back as the door swung shut behind him.

Aldin took flight from my shoulder and settled comfortably atop the empty shelf. Smiling to myself, I flicked my wrist and murmured a quick cantrip, using Prestidigitation to warm the sheets to the perfect level of comfort.

"Ah, this bed is simply heavenly," I whispered to myself as I settled in for a nap.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

It proved to be a short nap. There was a knock on our door that echoed through the room, and I cast a glance toward the balcony, noting the lack of sunshine. Since I hadn't undressed for bed, I simply answered the door with Aldin scowling from my shoulder.

A maid mare stood in the doorway. I greeted her with a nod. "Hello, what can I do for you?"

Is she wearing a Victorian era maid outfit? Maybe she has to wear it to identify herself as castle staff? Or maybe Princess Celestia developed some kind of maid fetish over the millennium without her sister? I mean it is a cute outfit, but the brain rot that has infected my mind from overuse of the internet is probably just twisting things.

Probably.

I hope.

"Princess Luna requests your presence at the sparring grounds. When you're ready, I can show you the way," she replied politely.

"Of course,” I responded a little too fast. “Lead the way!"

The journey to the training grounds proved brief, as it was located just two halls down from my room. Upon arrival, I observed a running track approximately two hundred yards in length, encircling an earthen training ground dotted with practice dummies. Standing on the track nearby was none other than Princess Luna herself.

I couldn't help but notice a remarkable change in Luna's appearance; her mane flowed freely with stars sparkling throughout, and she stood taller by about a foot and a few inches. Now, she’s just a few inches below my eye level.

"Wow, she changed fast," I whispered to Aldin, marveling at Luna's transformation. "Are those stars? Like Nightmare Moon? Celestia's mane is just multicolored with a few sparkles thrown in. Luna has goddamn constellations in her mane! Celestia should step up her game, throw some fire in there." Despite knowing Aldin couldn't respond to my words yet, I couldn't help but share my thoughts with him. Aldin blinked slowly, tilting his head as if he understood my meaning.

I took a deep breath and looked back at Princess Luna, who stood silently watching from in the center of the grounds. Her mane flowed on an ethereal breeze, the constellations shifting gently with its motion. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, were fixed on me.

This all felt like the beginning of some sort of test.

"Sebastian Hilam," Luna's voice was calm but authoritative and carried an edge to it that made me stand a little straighter. "You have been summoned here to receive my judgment. You have two paths before you."

She paused, allowing her words to sink in. I felt Aldin's curiosity mingling with my own, our link hummed with shared anticipation.

"You may choose to go free into the world and make your own path," Luna continued, her gaze unwavering. "Or you can become my apprentice and learn under my guidance."

The silence that followed was heavy indeed. I felt the weight of her words settle over me, the enormity of the decision pressing my mind. Go free? Make my own path? The idea was tempting. The thrill of adventure, the freedom of exploring this new world I now found myself in sounded fun. Although, that did sound a bit on the risky side of things.

But then, there was Princess Luna. The chance to learn from a being as ancient and powerful as her, to hone my magic underneath someone powerful enough to manipulate the moon...

I tried removing myself from the situation and thinking about this as though it was a player character decision. What would I want to do?

The wizard apprentice path just made the most sense to me. I get to live in a castle in a city that sits on a mountain, Luna looks cool as fuck, and wizard stuff is not cheap.

Wandering the wider world might be a better option if I knew anything about it. Maybe I would be better off out there, walking the world and figuring things out relying only on my own wits and Aldin’s help. But that would be quite the gamble, and I preferred not to gamble with my life.

Apprenticeship it is then.

"I'll become your apprentice," I said, surprising myself with just how steady my voice was steady despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. “Teach me, Princess Luna."

A slow, almost imperceptible smile curved Luna's lips. "Very well," she said, her tone holding a hint of satisfaction. "But know this, Sebastian. To become my apprentice, you must first pass a test."

"A test?" I echoed, feeling a mix of interest and apprehension.

"We shall start with assessing your physical capabilities. Once I have gauged your physical prowess, we will move on to magical tests. By the end of the night, I will have a comprehensive understanding of your abilities and we shall see if you are worthy." Luna gestured toward the track encircling the training grounds. "Begin with as many laps as you can run. Now!"

I took a moment to curse my choice and to momentarily lament that perhaps I had chosen poorly, before I launched into a run. In my original body, I wouldn't have lasted long, perhaps just one lap if I were lucky. But as I am now, I possessed far greater endurance. I managed to complete four laps of non-stop sprinting before collapsing onto my ass.

Before I could catch my breath, Luna levitated weight in front of me. Strength had never been Meridin’s strong suit, at least not until he reached higher levels and began augmenting himself with various magical and mythical enhancements. I embarrassingly struggled with the weights, barely managing ten reps with the fifty-pound dumbbells before my noodle-arms gave out.

Exhausted, I once again let myself fall flat on my ass. “Princess Luna, what’s next?”

Luna remained silent, giving me a look that looked too similar to a cat playing with a cornered mouse for my liking. She didn’t offer me a response.

Instead, she lifted up a rubber ball that she got from… somewhere, and sent it sailing towards my head with her magic.

The impact knocked me to the ground, "A heads up would've been nice!" offering a snarky one-finger salute from the dirt.

As I sat up, nursing a fresh lump on my forehead, Luna launched another ball my way. This time, I managed to dodge, but my celebration was short-lived as another ball struck me in the same spot on my forehead, sending me sprawling once more to the dirt.

"Fucking hell!" I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet.

Luna, now holding over a dozen balls with her telekinesis, interrupted my protest with a single word: "Dodge!"

“Oh no.”

I was bombarded with a barrage of rubber death, resulting in numerous circle shaped bruises and aches. The first barrage I managed to dodge with a quick Shift five feet to the side. That definitely surprised her, if only for a moment, and resulted in every single ball flying wide.

Very quickly I used up all of my Shifts and had to rely purely on reflexes to try to reduce the number of balls I would be taking to the face this night.

After what felt like an eternity, Luna called a halt to the onslaught. She leaned down toward me as I lay on the ground, thoroughly exhausted and battered. "Do you still wish to be my apprentice?"

Summoning the last of my energy, I raised my left hand and booped her on the nose. "Yes. You can't scare me off, Princess, but you do have a mean fastball..."

"As you wish. To your feet, 'apprentice'! Your next task is to cast as many spells as you can," Luna commanded.

Struggling to my feet, I caught my breath and responded, "I have three spells I can cast daily right now, and three I can spam. I'll start with Vanish."

Exhaling deeply, I focused my energy and waved my hands while reciting the incantations. With the final syllable, I was wrapped in invisibility for six seconds. As I disappeared, I thought I saw a slight widening of Luna's eyes, but it was probably just my imagination.

Reappearing, I moved on to my next spell, "This one is called Grease." With precise gestures and chanting, I conjured a layer of slippery grease.

I waved my fingers, jazz hands style, toward the little puddle of grease. "Tada! I can also use it to coat all sorts of objects, such as clothing or weapons."

Luna nodded in acknowledgment, prompting me to continue with a wave of the hoof.

"The next spell is Summon Monster 1. It involves summoning a creature from a different plane of existence," I elaborated. “Highly versatile, especially when it reaches higher tiers of magic.”

With a flourish, I conjured a tiny viper on the ground. The viper glowed a faint gold as it looked around. I dismissed it with a flick of the hand before it could do something unpredictable. Like attempt to bite a certain lunar princess.

"Presto! Magic!" I exclaimed theatrically.

Luna regarded the spot that the summoned creature vanished from with a neutral expression. I took it as a sign to move on to my cantrips. "I currently have three prepared: Mage Hand, Detect Magic, and Prestidigitation," I informed her, about to begin some spiel detailing their functions.

But Luna seemed uninterested, and sighed softly. "That's enough. I've seen what I need to see. Sebastian Hilam, I have one final test for you."

“I’m ready for any test you got, Princess!” I declared confidently in spite of the exhaustion that weighed on my limbs.

"Will you help me overthrow that foal that is my sister?" Luna asked the question like she was asking about the weather instead of asking me to help her with a coup d'état.

“Huh? I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I might have taken one too many of your balls to the head.” I must have developed a hearing problem a second ago because it sounded like she’s going evil right away, at the drop of a hat. It’s only been a few hours!

I flinched back a step as Luna closed the distance, now easily within arm’s reach. She may have been a few inches shorter than me, but she may as well have been a giant looming over me.

Luna’s voice was sharpened steel. "I said: Will you help me overthrow that foal that is my sister? You wanted to become my apprentice, well, this is it, Sebastian!"

The sparring grounds felt deathly silent as Luna and I locked eyes. I spat out my decision, as I resigned myself to my fate. "You know what? Fuck it…"

Luna looked surprised and a little disappointed, “Sebastian this—”

I decked Luna with the meanest right hook I could muster while shouting, “Aldin fuck her up!”

Aldin didn’t hesitate and attempted to swipe his talons across her face. His talons met only air as Luna scrambled backwards.

I knew if I let her catch her composure then I’d be done for, albeit I’m pretty sure I’m screwed either way. Fueled by a cocktail of anger, spite, and a light dash of fool-hardy determination, I closed in for another attack, but before I could land another strike, a blue aura enveloped me and Aldin, freezing us in place.

Luna rubbed gently at her swelling eye, and much to my surprise, she was laughing. She fell to her flanks and laughed harder.

“Hey! Don’t you laugh at me! Get it over with, or let me go so I can give you the cleanest left-right-goodnight I can dish out with these noodle arms!”

Luna managed to calm her laughter long enough to wheeze out two words, “You passed!”

“Passed?” I was absolutely flabbergasted. “This was all part of the test?”

Luna’s laughter slowed, and she released us from her magical grasp. “I was testing you to see if you would wilt under pressure. You passed. Turns out those noodle arms of yours can deliver quite the blow.”

I looked at her like she was crazy. Hells, she might actually be crazy considering what she's been through.

“That was intense,” I let out a sigh and plopped down on my ass, feeling like I'd hit the ground a million times tonight. “Sorry about the eye.”

A small smile adorned her face. “No need to apologize, Sebastian. You did well tonight. Go relax for the rest of the night. Your apprenticeship will officially begin tomorrow night. Meet me at moonrise in the castle library.”

"Got it, princess," I replied, hauling myself to my feet. As I made my way out of the training grounds, I tossed over my shoulder, "See you at the library!"

Limping back to my room, I made a show of walking evenly and even shooting some finger guns at the occasional guard. Flexing my digits on those who are lacking in hands.

They seemed confused by the gestures.

Shutting the room door behind me, I let out a groan, “Aldin, that really sucked.”

I considered speaking of my theories and concerns, but what if they’re listening? Eavesdropping through magic is rather simple and easy, especially if it’s a room that you give someone. Best to keep all my concerns in my head for now. At least until I can decide whether my worries are legitimate or I’m just being paranoid.

I’m probably just paranoid.

Aldin patted my head with a wing, and let out a few hoots before flying to a little nest he’d just finished putting together in the shelves of the bookcase.

Stripping down to my birthday suit, I made my way to the shower. I stopped myself when I noticed a sight that filled me with dread. The bathroom — like most do — had within it a mirror. With said mirror I noticed a trio of scars on my body. Three savage looking scars that ran from my left shoulder to my right hip.

I must have missed it due to excitement at the gaining of magic and the lengthening of my johnson.

Shaking my head clear of the scars, I refocused on my task. Better to leave it to the birds.

Mountains

The wind clawed at me the moment we stepped off the train, its icy grip cutting through the air with relentless ferocity. The magic of Endure Elements dulled the chill, but the Frozen North had a way of making its presence known despite magical intervention. The howling blizzard churned around us, a ceaseless cascade of snow and biting cold that blurred the horizon and buried the landscape under an endless white expanse. Instinctively, I pulled my cloak tighter, though I didn’t truly need to. Beside me, Aldin had no such magical luxury. He huddled closer, his feathers fluffed up in a futile attempt to stave off the cold, his amber eyes glaring at the storm.

“Remind me again why we couldn’t go somewhere warm,” Aldin grumbled, his voice muffled as he burrowed deeper into my cloak. “I’d take scorching sand over this any day. At least in a desert, I wouldn’t be freezing my tail feathers off.”

I chuckled softly, adjusting my pack as I surveyed the bleak expanse ahead. “Come on, best-buddy. It’s not that bad. You’re just dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Aldin shot back, his tone indignant. “I’m practical. And practically speaking, this is miserable. You’re lucky I don’t just fly south and leave you to deal with this icebox on your own.”

“You’d miss me,” I said with a smirk, brushing snow off my shoulders. “And besides, I’d take cold over heat any day. At least in the cold, you can layer up and get cozy.”

Aldin’s grumble turned sly. “Cozy, huh? Thinking about a certain princess of the night, are we? Maybe a shared blanket by the fire, her reading you stories about constellations?”

The warmth of embarrassment flushed my face. “That’s—” I started, but words failed me as my mind betrayed me with vivid imagery of Luna: her serene smile, her flowing mane, her voice like velvet. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have right now, but Aldin’s teasing struck a chord I couldn’t ignore.

He chuckled, triumphant. “You’re not fooling anyone, Seb. Especially not me. But hey, I’m sure Luna would love to be here, trekking through this frosty wasteland with you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s just dying to freeze alongside us,” I muttered, focusing on the task ahead.

The train station behind us was barely more than a weather-beaten outpost, its timber groaning under the weight of snow. The sparse handful of ponies working there moved quickly, wrapped in thick coats as they hauled supplies through the swirling storm. Inside the nearby supply depot, we stocked up on provisions: insulated blankets, crampons for the icy climbs, and enough food to last us several days. The pony behind the counter, barely visible beneath their layers of scarves and goggles, gave us a wordless nod as we secured our packs.

“Do you really think we’ll find it?” Aldin asked, quieter now. His usual sharpness had softened, replaced by genuine unease.

“We’ll find it,” I said with forced confidence, pulling Promise’s strap snug across my back. “Luna trusts us, and we’ve handled worse. It’s just another puzzle to solve.”

“Sure,” Aldin said, though his tone lacked conviction. “Except this time, the puzzle’s in the middle of nowhere, buried under snowdrifts, and we don’t even know what mountain to check first. So, no big deal.”

His doubts mirrored my own, though I refused to let them show. Luna’s instructions had been direct: locate the door, mark its position, and, above all else, do not interact with it. That last part echoed in my mind, its weight heavy enough to make my gut twist. Whatever this door was, it wasn’t something to take lightly.

Stepping out of the depot, the storm hit me like a wall. The howling wind drowned out most sounds, and the snow muffled the rest. Every step forward was a fight against the elements as we began our ascent toward the nearest mountain range. Its jagged peaks were faint outlines through the thick haze of snow, towering over us like silent sentinels.

Aldin, still nestled in my cloak, poked his head out just enough to survey the landscape. “This place is dead,” he muttered. “Not even a single tree. Just ice and rocks and — oh, joy — more snow.”

“It’s quiet,” I replied. “But that does not mean it’s empty. Keep your eyes peeled, Aldin. We don’t know what might be lurking out here.”

The storm made it impossible to see Luna’s moon, but I glanced upward anyway, imagining it shining through the clouds, steady and constant. The thought brought a flicker of reassurance. She’s watching over us, I reminded myself. That connection, even if only in spirit, was enough to steel my resolve.

Aldin shifted against my shoulder. “If this ‘door’ thing is so important, why don’t we have a better lead? Seems reckless to send us out here with nothing but vague directions.”

I couldn’t argue with him. Luna’s instructions had been frustratingly cryptic. But if there was one thing I had learned from her, it was that sometimes the test was in the journey itself.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “That is what we’ll do.”

“Right,” Aldin replied with a huff. “Figure it out. Like we always do. Just don’t expect me to start singing songs about friendship and perseverance, okay?”

I laughed, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the storm. “Noted, best-buddy.”

As we pressed on, the wind picked up, lashing against us with renewed vigor. Snow crunched underfoot, its sound oddly satisfying despite the harsh conditions. My magic kept the worst of the cold at bay, but I still felt its weight in the stiffness of my movements, the resistance of the air itself. Aldin, ever the vocal companion, alternated between sarcastic complaints and cautious silence as we navigated the treacherous terrain.

Hours passed as we trudged through the snow, the mountain looming closer with every step. Fatigue nipped at the edges of my focus, but I didn’t dare slow down. The Frozen North wasn’t a place to linger.

Eventually we reached a narrow plateau. The plateau was sheltered by an outcrop of ice. It was time to stop. The storm showed no signs of letting up, and the visibility was worsening by the minute.

“This’ll do for now,” I said, setting down my pack and beginning the ritual of setting up camp. A quick casting of Alarm and Keep Watch gave me the reassurance that we’d have some warning if anything approached during the night.

Aldin perched nearby, his wings fluffed up for warmth as he eyed the darkening sky. “You think it’s out there? The door?”

“It’s out there,” I said firmly. “And we’ll find it.”

He nodded, his usual sass replaced with quiet determination. “Alright, Seb. But if I wake up covered in snow, I’m not going to be happy.”

I smiled as I adjusted my cloak and leaned back against the icy wall. The cold didn’t bother me. Not really. And as I looked out at the storm-tossed wilderness, Luna’s voice echoed in my mind, steady and calm. Trust yourself.

I did. And we would find that door, no matter how long it took.

A little bit of cold can’t stop me.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The Crystal Mountains were merciless — an expanse of cold, unyielding ice that stretched endlessly beneath the weight of a constant blizzard.

Aldin’s usual quips and chatter had grown sparse over the past two weeks, replaced with grumbles and the occasional groan about the biting chill. The snow never seemed to end, and neither did our search. Day after day, we trudged through the knee-deep drifts, scaling jagged ridges and scouring countless crevices in pursuit of the elusive door Luna had tasked us to find. Yet the mountains kept their secrets well-hidden, vast and uncaring as they loomed over us like frozen sentinels.

Each morning, I relied on the Fly spell to give us some semblance of progress. The first few days felt almost hopeful — ascending to heights that allowed me to scan vast swaths of terrain. But the optimism had begun to wane. The peaks were treacherous, the landscape deceptive, and my magic could only carry me for six precious minutes at a time.

Today was no different.

The wind screamed as I climbed higher into the gray-white abyss, Aldin tucked securely inside my cloak. Despite the spell, the cold clawed at me, Endure Elements barely enough to keep the freezing air at bay. The blizzard reduced visibility to a cruel joke, everything shrouded in a blur of snow and mist. My eyes strained for any sign — an unnatural shape, a gleam of metal, anything that might break the monotony of ice and rock.

Nothing.

The magic began to fade, and I prepared for the familiar drop. As gravity reclaimed me, I let it pull me downward, the icy expanse below rushing up to meet me. When the ground felt too close for comfort, I cast Feather Fall, slowing my descent to a gentle drift. The momentary weightlessness gave me one last chance to scan the surroundings, but the result was the same. The barren landscape offered no answers.

When my boots finally touched the snow, the crunch beneath me felt heavier than usual — less like solid ground and more like the weight of failure.

Aldin poked his head out from the warmth of my cloak, feathers fluffed against the cold. His amber eyes were narrowed, his expression a mix of irritation and concern.
"Still nothing?" he asked, though he didn’t need the confirmation.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Nothing. Just more snow, more ice, more nothing."

“We’ve covered so much ground already,” Aldin said, his tone trying to edge toward optimism. “It’s gotta be out there somewhere, right?”

"Somewhere," I agreed, the word tasting bitter. “But these mountains don’t exactly come with a map. For all we know, it’s buried under twenty feet of snow or halfway up a cliff we haven’t climbed yet.”

Aldin slumped further into my cloak with a dramatic groan. “Great. At this rate, we’ll find it next winter. Or never.” He paused, then added with exaggerated sarcasm, “Maybe the door’s shy and just waiting for us to earn its trust.”

I let out a short laugh, despite the gnawing frustration. “Or maybe it’s setting up a tea party, waiting to roll out the welcome mat.”

The light banter eased the weight in my chest, if only slightly. Still, I couldn’t ignore the reality pressing down on us. Supplies were running low again, and the latest section of the search had turned up nothing but frostbite and fatigue. Another trip back to the train station was inevitable — a routine that had quickly become an unwelcome reminder of how little progress we were making.

"Come on, best-buddy." I tightened my cloak around us as another gust of wind tore through the air. “We’ll head back, restock, and regroup. There’s still ground we haven’t covered.”

Aldin grumbled, burrowing deeper into the warmth of the cloak. “If we ever find this door, I’m charging it rent for the time it’s wasted.”

The snow crunched underfoot as we began the trek back, the blizzard swirling in relentless fury. I kept my eyes fixed on the path ahead, the icy winds clawing at me with every step. As much as I hated retreating to the station again, I knew there wasn’t any other choice.

The door was out here somewhere — Luna’s trust in me, her faith, hinged on me finding it. Every failure to locate it weighed heavier on my shoulders, but quitting wasn’t an option. Not for her.

I adjusted my grip on Promise, the sword strapped securely to my side, its weight a reassuring constant in the chaos around me. The thought of Luna lingered in my mind, her voice soft but resolute as she’d sent me on this mission. She believed in me, and I couldn’t let her down — not because of the cold, or the mountains, or even my own doubts.

Somewhere in these frozen peaks, the door waited. And I would find it.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

A month of hunting for this door, and we found no leads on it. No traces of magic, no glints of light, and certainly no visibility. Just more mountains to climb; more blizzards to trudge through. And to make matters worse: it was growing colder, forcing Aldin and I to retire to our impromptu shelter earlier in the day than when we started.

The cold had grown sharper as the sun dipped below the horizon, the Crystal Mountains shifting from a landscape of endless whites to a shadowed expanse of ice and rock. Nightfall here wasn’t just a descent into darkness; it was an all-consuming plunge into the frozen heart of the north. I could feel the temperature dropping even through the Endure Elements spell, the chill seeping into every crevice of the mountains.

Aldin had burrowed deeper into my cloak, his usual chatter subdued by the oppressive cold. We needed shelter, and fast. The storm was growing stronger again, the wind howling like the souls of the damned. I cast a quick glance around, searching for a suitable spot. The mountains were unforgiving, but with Snow Shape I turned the very snow itself into a temporary haven.

“Let’s make camp,” I said, more to myself than to Aldin, though his small head poked out from the folds of my cloak, his eyes blinking wearily.

“About time,” he grumbled, his breath visible in the freezing air.

I found a relatively flat area shielded by a large outcropping of rock and raised my hands, channeling the arcane energies for Snow Shape. The snow around us began to shift and churn, gathering into a mound that grew and solidified, forming walls and a roof that curved inwards to create a small, domed shelter. Within moments, we had a sturdy igloo, the thick walls providing insulation against the bitter cold outside.

“Not bad,” Aldin mumbled, already retreating deeper into the shelter as I ducked inside, casting the Alarm spell around the perimeter. It was a simple precaution, but out here, simple precautions meant the difference between life and death.

As I sat down, I couldn’t help but feel a strange tension in the air, something I couldn’t quite place. The wind outside howled ever louder, and for a moment, I thought I heard something — a voice, faint and distant, carried on the wind. It was as if the mountains themselves were whispering secrets, but the words were just out of reach, unintelligible and eerie.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. “Just the wind,” I told myself, but the unease lingered.

The mountains played tricks on the ears, especially in the dead of night when the mind was prone to wandering. I stared at the icy ceiling for a while, my mind wandering as I listened to the muffled sounds of the storm outside. The cold had always been something I could handle, even enjoy to a degree. The way it forced you to wrap up, to seek warmth and comfort — it reminded me of moments of closeness, of being wrapped up in a blanket, of… Luna. The thought of her brought a small smile to my lips, and I allowed myself to indulge in the warmth that the memory provided.

“Best-buddy,” I began, as I gently rubbed at Promie’s pommel. “Do you ever feel like… you’re being watched? Like there’s something out there?”

After Aldin didn’t respond to my question, I turned to check on him. Aldin was already curled up in the corner, his small body rising and falling steadily with sleep. I envied him for his ability to drift off so easily, even in a place like this.

I’ll ask him in the morning.

Exhaustion eventually claimed me, and I laid down beside him, unclasping my cloak to cover Aldin and I with it like a blanket. The cold, the storm, the endless search — they all faded away as sleep overtook me, pulling me into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Hours passed, or perhaps only minutes — time seemed to lose its meaning in the depths of the Frozen North’s nights. I was lost in a dream, something faint and ungraspable, when a sharp mental ping jolted me awake. A sudden, sharp ping echoed in my mind, jolting me awake. My heart raced as I sat up, the world around me blurred with the remnants of broken sleep.

The Alarm spell had been triggered. Something was outside.

I listened intently, the sound of the wind outside seeming louder, more oppressive. My breath was shallow as I scanned the interior of the igloo, searching for any signs of intrusion. But everything was as it should be — except for the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

I reached for Promise, my hand gripping the midnight-blue leather hilt tightly as I slowly rose to my feet. My eyes darted to Aldin, who was still curled up in the corner, oblivious to the alarm. I shook him gently, my voice a harsh whisper. “Best-buddy. Time to wake up.”

He didn’t stir. I shook him again, harder this time, but he remained still, his breathing steady, undisturbed. Panic began to well up in my chest. Aldin was a light sleeper — he should have woken at the first sign of trouble. I shook him once more, my voice growing more urgent. “Aldin, come on, wake up!”

Nothing.

Aldin lay motionless, curled against my side, his breathing steady and deep. Too deep. Panic clawed at the edges of my thoughts as I shook him again, more firmly this time.

"Aldin," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the muffled howl of the storm outside. He didn’t stir.

This wasn’t like him. Aldin was a light sleeper, especially in strange places. The thought of him being so unresponsive sent a chill down my spine, one colder than the icy air seeping through the igloo’s walls.

I scanned the small, cramped space again, every shadow suddenly suspect. Outside, the wind roared, louder than before, almost as if the storm was converging on us. Beneath it, faint but unmistakable, was another sound — a whisper. It was distant, fragmented, like a half-heard voice carried on the gale.

My pulse quickened as I tightened my grip on Aldin’s small frame. "Come on, best-buddy," I murmured, shaking him harder. Nothing. He was utterly limp, as if something unseen held him in a grip I couldn’t break.

The whispers grew louder, their presence more insistent. They seemed to seep into the igloo itself, pressing against the walls, filling the air with a suffocating weight. The space felt smaller, more confining, as if the storm was trying to crush it — and us — into nothingness.

Promise was at my side, its presence a lifeline. My hand closed around the hilt, and I drew it slowly, the blade ringing softly in the suffocating silence. The runes along its length flared to life, bathing the igloo in a cold, silvery glow. Luna’s magic pulsed faintly through the weapon, and for a brief moment, it steadied me.

The whispers faltered.

And then, they stopped entirely.

The silence that followed was worse. The absence of sound pressed against my ears, amplifying the pounding of my heart. My breathing felt deafening in the stillness.

I adjusted the Teashades of Night on my face, the world outside the igloo sharpening into focus. Through the storm’s haze, the jagged shadows of the mountains loomed, stark against the swirling snow. Everything looked normal, yet every instinct screamed that something was wrong.

And then, I saw them.

Two eyes glowed in the storm’s chaos, suspended in the air like twin embers against the dark. They were golden, rimmed with an unnatural green that seemed to shimmer and twist, defying the logic of light and shadow. The eyes hung motionless, unblinking, and terrifyingly still.

They weren’t just watching. They were seeing. Through the layers of snow and ice, through the protective barriers I’d woven around the igloo — through me.

My grip on Promise tightened, its runes flaring brighter as the blade hummed faintly in my hand.

The voice came then, layered and fragmented, as if spoken by a thousand mouths at once. Each tone was distinct, yet they blended into one, speaking with chilling clarity.

"I see you, Sebastian Hilam."

The words didn’t echo; they struck, sharp and deliberate, leaving no room for doubt. The air grew heavier, oppressive, as if the world itself recoiled from the sound.

I took a step back, the igloo’s icy floor crunching under my boots. The glowing eyes didn’t follow. They didn’t need to. Their gaze pierced through every barrier I could imagine, laying me bare under their alien scrutiny.

And then, with no warning, the world collapsed.

The storm, the igloo, the eyes — everything shattered into a swirling void. I fell into the darkness, weightless and unmoored, the echo of that voice ringing in my mind.

I woke with a start, gasping for air.

The igloo was still intact, the wind howling softly outside. Aldin stirred beside me, his feathers rustling as he shifted against my side. He was warm, alive, his usual weight reassuring against me.

But my hand was still clenched around Promise, its blade half-drawn and glowing faintly. The Alarm spell I’d cast earlier hummed faintly in my mind, the magical thread tugging at my awareness. Something had tripped it while I’d slept.

I focused, unraveling the delicate weave of the spell to examine the disturbance. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there — a trace of something unnatural, like a shadow of a shadow.

The presence was gone now, leaving nothing but an eerie stillness in its wake.

I exhaled slowly, my breath visible in the freezing air. The memory of those eyes lingered, vivid and unshakable, as if burned into the back of my mind.

Had it been a dream? Or something more? Those eyes, that voice… It felt too real to dismiss. But what was it?

I looked down at Aldin, still sleeping soundly, his breath even and peaceful. Whatever it had been, it hadn’t harmed him — or me. But the encounter had left me shaken, my nerves on edge.

I tightened my grip on Promise, and unsheathed the blade. Laying the fuller flat in the palm of my left hand. The sword’s familiar weight was a small comfort, the real comfort came from what the blade held within. Luna’s magic thrummed within it, and I clung to that connection like a drowning man holds onto anything in reach.

The cold outside the igloo felt even more oppressive now, and the silence, once a comfort, seemed to press in on me. I knew I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight.

I listened intently for any sound, any sign that the presence might return, but the night remained quiet, the storm outside having calmed to a soft whisper. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had reached out to me from beyond reality — something that had seen me, known me, in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.

It knows my name, and it wanted something.

Morning arrived with a bitter, biting wind that seemed to pierce through the igloo’s walls, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread that had settled in my bones. I hadn’t slept since that moment, my eyes fixed on the entrance with Promise never leaving my hands. I waited for those terrible eyes to reappear.

They hadn’t. But the absence of them brought no comfort, only a deepening sense of unease that gnawed at me as the cold light of dawn crept into the frozen world outside.

Aldin stirred beside me, his feathers fluffed up against the cold. He blinked sleepily, then noticed the tension in my posture, the blade in my hands. “Seb?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “You okay?”

I hesitated, still unsure how to explain what I’d experienced. “Something happened last night, best-buddy.”

He immediately perked up, eyes sharp. “What do you mean? You didn’t wake me.”

“You couldn’t be woken,” I said, running a hand through my hair. The unease lingered like a shadow. “Something tripped the Alarm outside the igloo, and then… the whispers started. It wasn’t a dream, Aldin. There was something out there. I saw its eyes. I heard it speak.”

Aldin’s feathers ruffled as he let out a low, guttural hoot. His expression darkened in a way I rarely saw. “That’s… not good. Not good at all. Seb, maybe we should just get the hell out of here. Whatever it was, it doesn’t sound like something we want to deal with.”

He wasn’t wrong. Every instinct screamed at me to abandon this mission, to put as much distance as possible between us and whatever nightmare lurked in these mountains. But then, an image of Luna came to mind: her steady gaze, her unwavering trust when she gave me this task. She believed in me.

My heart clenched. I would absolutely die in a horror movie.

“I can’t leave, Aldin,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Luna trusted me to find this door. If I turn back now, I’ll fail her. I can’t let that happen.”

Aldin hopped to the ground, wings flaring slightly in frustration. “And you think she’d want you to walk headfirst into whatever fresh hell is waiting out there? You’re stubborn, Seb, but this is a bad idea. We don’t even know what we’re up against!”

“I know,” I said, gripping Promise’s hilt as if it could anchor me. The memory of those golden-green eyes still sent chills through me. “But I made a promise. I won’t let her down.”

Aldin let out a sharp, exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Seb. Fine. But we do this my way. The second this goes sideways, we’re out. No arguments.”

“Agreed.” I nodded, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. “Thanks, Aldin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, flapping back onto my shoulder. “Just try not to get us killed.”

We left the igloo behind, the cold biting sharper with every step. The snow crunched beneath my boots as we resumed the search, the Crystal Mountains stretching endlessly before us in all their icy hostility. Despite the emptiness, I couldn’t shake the feeling we weren’t alone. That something was watching, waiting.

The sun dipped lower as the hours dragged on, painting the jagged peaks in hues of pink and orange. But there was no sign of the door. The unease in my chest grew heavier with each passing minute. By the time twilight blanketed the mountains, I knew we needed to stop. The cold would only get worse, and though magic kept us functional, it didn’t make us invincible.

“We should camp,” I said, glancing at Aldin, who looked equally worn. “Another igloo will keep us safe until morning.”

He didn’t argue, but I caught the subtle slump of his feathers, a sure sign of exhaustion. I raised a hand to cast Snow Shape, picturing the igloo forming around us, but something deep inside me hesitated. A tug in my gut. It was faint but insistent, as though the mountains themselves were calling.

“Seb?” Aldin asked, shifting uneasily. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” I frowned, the pull growing stronger. “Something’s telling me we’re close. I think we need to keep going.”

Aldin groaned. “You sure? It’s dark, freezing, and I’m not exactly itching for another encounter with freaky glowing eyes.”

“I know,” I admitted, glancing at the darkening horizon. “But I can feel it. We’re close.”

“Fine,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “But if we freeze to death, I’m haunting your ass.”

“Deal.” I managed a small grin, though my nerves were still on edge.

We pressed on, the night swallowing the last traces of daylight. The cold deepened, the wind slicing through the thin layers of warmth magic provided. Every step felt heavier, but the pull guiding me only grew stronger. It wasn’t long before the air seemed to change. Subtle, but unmistakable.

“Wait,” I whispered, holding up a hand. Aldin stilled, his sharp gaze scanning the darkness.

And then I saw it.

Nestled into the mountainside, almost hidden by ice and snow, was a door. Its surface shimmered faintly, etched with intricate runes that glowed softly in the twilight. Gems embedded in the frame reflected the faint light, casting eerie patterns onto the surrounding snow. The magic radiating from it was ancient, strong — and distinctly otherworldly.

“There it is,” I breathed, awe and relief washing over me.

Aldin puffed up, his feathers flaring in an instinctive show of unease. “So that’s it. The door. It’s… definitely something.”

I approached cautiously, the pull guiding me now replaced by a deep, quiet hum in the air. The door felt alive, like it was aware of our presence. But unlike the sinister force from the night before, this magic didn’t feel malevolent. Protective, perhaps. Guarding something important.

“I’m marking the path,” I said, casting Arcane Mark to leave a glowing trail back to the door. The symbols, shaped like an open hand facing outward, glimmered faintly in the snow, each one a waypoint in case we needed to return.

I considered casting Detect Magic, but the thought vanished as quickly as it came. Luna’s instructions were clear. Whatever this door protected, it wasn’t for me to uncover. I wasn’t about to be the idiot who poked at the ancient, glowing mystery and triggered some apocalyptic failsafe.

“Let’s set up camp,” I said, stepping back from the door. “Far enough away that we’re not tempting fate.”

Aldin nodded, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. “Good call, Seb. The sooner we’re away from this place, the better.”

We made our way back down the path, my marks lighting the way like breadcrumbs. I cast them intermittently, ensuring we could find our way back if needed. As the door disappeared into the distance, the oppressive weight in my chest lightened — though the memory of those whispers and eyes lingered.

Whatever lay beyond that door wasn’t meant for us. And I had no intention of testing its patience.

When we finally returned to the earlier campsite, I cast Snow Shape once more, forming a sturdy igloo to shelter us from the cold. As the walls closed around us, I felt a sense of relief, though it was tempered by the experience with those accursed eyes. The memory of the whispers and golden eyes lingered in my mind, but for now, we needed to rest and prepare for the journey back.

“We’re not sleeping tonight, are we?” he asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

I shook my head. “No. We need to stay vigilant. Until we get away from the Crystal Mountains, we’ll be using Keep Watch.”

Aldin nodded, seemingly reassured by my words. “Alright, Seb. But you better not let anything sneak up on us while I’m daydreaming.”

I chuckled softly, the tension in my chest easing a bit. “I’ll make sure of it.”

With a murmured incantation, I cast the spell over both of us. The familiar warmth of the magic settled into my bones, sharpening my senses and driving away the fatigue that had been creeping in. Aldin, too, seemed more alert, his gaze now darting around the interior of the igloo as if expecting something to happen.

But the night passed uneventfully. The igloo remained quiet, the only sound being the occasional gust of wind outside. Despite the unsettling presence we had encountered the night before, nothing disturbed our watch. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. It all felt like I was trying to solve a puzzle without any help or reference, and half the pieces are missing.

As dawn broke, casting a pale light over the snowy landscape, I felt a surge of determination. We had found the door, marked its location, and now it was time to report back to Luna. The thought of returning to her brought a small smile to my face, the warmth of her presence a welcome comfort against the cold of the Crystal Mountains.

“We should get moving,” I said, rising from my spot and gathering our supplies. “The sooner we reach the station, the sooner we can get back to Canterlot.”

Aldin fluttered to my shoulder, his usual playful demeanor returning. “You know, Seb, I can’t wait to be somewhere warm again. These mountains are pretty and all, but I think I’ve had enough snow to last a lifetime or two.”

“Agreed,” I replied with a grin, stepping out of the igloo into the crisp morning air. The sky was crystal clear, the sun glinting off the snow in a way that almost made the mountains look inviting. But I knew better. The beauty was deceiving; it was time to leave this frozen place behind.

The spells Fly and Feather Fall came to life with a whispered incantation, enveloping me in a faint magical aura. Aldin shifted his weight on my shoulder as I stepped toward the edge, the world dropping away beneath us. Then, with a leap, we plunged into the open air, the Crystal Mountains shrinking behind us.

The descent was exhilarating. We sliced through the frigid air, the magic insulating us from the chill winds that would otherwise pierce to the bone. The blizzards that typically choked the Frozen North seemed to take a rare reprieve, the endless sheets of snow giving way to a stark, quiet beauty. Below, the snow-covered landscape stretched endlessly, unmarred save for the occasional jagged peak or frozen river winding its way through the expanse.

The journey was swift, the unforgiving terrain that had taken days to navigate on foot now passing in mere moments. Within the hour, we touched down at the mountain’s base. Our boots crunched against the snow, its sound a stark contrast to the near-silence of the icy plains. The distant outline of the station soon appeared, faint and flickering like a mirage through the whirling snowflakes.

Home was in sight.

A thin ribbon of smoke curled from the station’s chimney, a stark yet welcoming sign of life amidst the desolation. As we trudged closer, figures emerged through the haze: a small group of ponies attending to evening tasks, their movements deliberate and precise against the backdrop of the endless cold.

One of them broke off and approached us. A grizzled pegasus, his weathered coat the color of ash, walked with the surety of someone long accustomed to the harsh environment. His eyes, sharp yet not unkind, scrutinized us as he stopped a few paces away.

"You must be the mage from Canterlot," he said, his voice low and gravelly but lacking hostility. "We’ve been expecting you.”

I nodded, the warmth of my breath condensing in the air. "That’s right. We’re heading back to Canterlot."

The pegasus eyed me for a moment longer before reaching into the saddlebag slung across his side. He pulled out a small envelope, sealed with an unmistakable mark: the intertwined symbols of Celestia and Luna.

"This came for you a few days back," he said, passing it to me. "Direct from the Princesses."

I took it with careful hands, feeling the slight weight of the letter. The envelope was thick, the wax seal intact and heavy with significance. Whatever lay within wasn’t just a casual message; it carried the weight of purpose.

“Thanks,” I said, my tone measured.

Aldin shifted on my shoulder, his sharp eyes locked onto the letter as though it might reveal its secrets with a simple glance. "What’s it say?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

"I don’t know yet," I admitted, turning the envelope over in my hands. The weight wasn’t just physical. There was something about it—an unspoken gravity that hinted at a turning point, at something waiting to unfold.

The cold nipped at my fingers as I pressed them against the seal, breaking it with a soft crack. The wax crumbled, and I carefully unfolded the letter, its edges crisp against my gloves.

Aldin leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “Well? Don’t keep me in suspense, Seb.”

I took a steadying breath and began to read, the words etched in ink pulling me deeper into whatever awaited us next.

Sebastian,

I regret to impose upon you yet another task so soon, but the matter is urgent. A four-headed hydra has emerged from the depths of Froggy Bottom Bogg and has attacked my sister’s student, Twilight Sparkle, and her friends. Fortunately, they managed to escape unscathed, but the threat remains. I need someone I can trust to eliminate this danger before it harms anypony else.

I have already posted warnings, instructing all to avoid both the Everfree and the Bogg, but I fear these measures will not hold the curiosity of our subjects for long. You are to travel to Ghastly Gorge and enter the Bogg from the south, bypassing the Everfree. I know you are capable, but please be careful. I cannot afford to lose you.

I should have felt frustrated. Aldin and I had slogged through the treacherous Crystal Mountains for weeks, battling cold winds and relentless terrain, and just when the promise of rest was within our grasp, another mission landed in our laps. Yet, frustration was the last thing on my mind, because there — at the bottom of the letter — were words that gripped my heart.

‘I cannot afford to lose you.’

The sentence bore a slight indentation, as if Luna had hesitated before committing the words to paper. I could almost see her, seated at her desk, the soft glow of her moon casting a silver halo around her. The image stirred something deep within me — a tangled mix of pride, concern, and something more I couldn’t quite name.

Aldin peeked at the letter, his keen eyes skimming the text with practiced ease. “Another mission, huh? She really knows how to keep us on our toes.”

“Yeah,” I replied, folding the letter with care and tucking it into my cloak. “But this one’s straightforward. A four-headed hydra… We can handle that.”

Aldin shot me a sideways glance, his feathers ruffling in mild agitation. “You sound confident, but don’t forget hydras have a nasty habit of growing more heads.”

I smirked, a strategy already forming in my mind. “It won’t get the chance. We’ll stay out of reach, slice its heads off with Stone Discus, and if it starts regenerating, we’ll hit it with fire. It’s all about timing.”

Aldin considered my plan, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Yeah… that could work. Just don’t get too cocky, alright? The last thing we need is a hydra with more heads than we can count.”

“I’m always careful,” I assured him, though we both knew he could sense the excitement simmering beneath my calm demeanor. The truth was, I was beginning to relish these challenges. Each mission was more than just a task — it was a chance to prove to Luna, and to myself, that her trust in me wasn’t misplaced. Growing stronger was becoming a welcome bonus.

We made our way back to the station, the crisp air biting at my cheeks as the train pulled in with a groan of metal and steam. Anticipation thrummed through me as I climbed aboard, Aldin settling into his usual spot on my shoulder.

As we found our seats, my thoughts drifted back to Luna’s letter and the argument she had with her sister all those weeks ago. The concern she tried to mask, the hesitation in her words — she didn’t want to send me on these missions, but she had no choice. And I… I wanted to be the one she could rely on, the one who would always return to her, victorious.

Compared to a death worm, a four-headed hydra would be child’s play. And the worm had been a pushover.

As the train began its slow journey southward, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on the tracks lulled me into a contemplative silence. We were headed for another battle, but this time, it felt different. There was something more at stake, something beyond just slaying a monster.

“Seb,” Aldin’s voice broke through my reverie, “We’ve got this, right?”

I looked out the window, watching the Frozen North’s harsh landscape gradually give way to the warmer, more welcoming terrain of Equestria’s inner regions. “Of course we do, Aldin. We’ve got this.”

The train gathered speed, carrying us closer to our destination, and I found myself looking forward to the fight. Not just for the challenge, but for the opportunity to prove, once again, that Luna’s trust was well-placed.

I glanced at Aldin, now fast asleep, his small form rising and falling with each breath. Carefully, I lifted him from my shoulder, cradling him in the crook of my left arm. I knew he’d take offense if he woke up like this, but I couldn’t resist — it was the position where he seemed most at peace.

Through our empathetic link, contentment flowed between us, bringing a small, involuntary smile to my lips.

Our return to Canterlot was on the horizon — just one more task to complete. A four-headed hydra?

Easy enough.

Intentions

The grand dining hall of Canterlot Castle was just as I remembered it. The setting sun sent rays of kaleidoscope colors through the tall stained-glass windows. The intricate patterns highlighted the elaborately adorned table, casting a surreal glow over the room. It had been sometime since I last sat down at a real table for a meal.

I had sat through dozens of meals with the princesses before, mostly informal affairs where titles were discarded and conversations lacked diplomatic layers. But tonight was different. Tonight Luna was running late, and Celestia had the presence about her that filled the room, as though she brought the sun itself with her wherever she went.

Aldin, perched comfortably on the back of my chair, his golden eyes scanning the room with a calm indifference that I could never seem to master. He was always unbothered by Celestia’s towering authority, and part of me envied his ability to remain unfazed in moments like these. Even now, as I tried to focus on the spread of food before me, Aldin’s presence was a steady reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.

His sharp eyes darted from one glistening utensil to another, and through our bond I could sense his amusement. “It’s been a while since we've dined somewhere so fancy, eh, Seb?”

I chuckled softly, straightening the collar of my shirt, the material of my shirt brushing the area where the stitches in my shoulder dissolved. “Yeah,” I said back, knowing only he'd catch the gist. “Almost forgot what it’s like to sit down for a proper meal.”

Celestia sat across from me, looking as regal as ever, her presence filling the room with a quiet authority. She smiled warmly as she sipped away at her wine, but her sharp gaze was studying me, sizing me up in a way that made me feel like I was under a spotlight. Luna was late, caught up with some final royal duties, leaving me alone with the Solar Princess, something that felt both formal and oddly personal.

I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t sure whether we were still in the realm of small talk or if I should ask about the duties of the day. The silence stretched on awkwardly, and just as I was about to break it with some cringe ass comments about the excellent craftsmanship of the chandeliers, Celestia leaned forward slightly.

“So, Sebastian,” she began, casually swirling her glass of wine. “What are your intentions with my sister?”

The words hung in the air like a sword waiting to drop. I blinked, my brain scrambling for a response. I hadn't exactly prepared for this conversation — especially not tonight. Aldin shifted slightly on his perch, his eyes darting between me and Celestia with keen interest, almost like he was waiting to see how I'd handle it.

Of course, I knew it was coming. It wasn’t like Celestia didn’t already know about Luna and I. She had probably sensed it long before we even acknowledged it ourselves, probably just like Cadance did. But hearing the question posed so directly, with that serene, knowing look in her eyes, made the whole thing feel terrifyingly official. I sat up straighter, my nearly healed shoulder chose this moment to feel itchy.

There were a thousand responses I could give, but all of them felt inadequate underneath Celestia’s gaze. It was as though she were staring right through me, weighing every unspoken word before I even had a chance to articulate it.

"You're on your own for this one," Aldin whispered, barely concealing his amusement.

I cleared my throat, feeling the weight of Celestia's gaze pinning me to the spot. I could feel the heat rising in my face, my pulse quickening as I tried to think of the best way to explain myself. My intentions? They were simple, really, but saying them aloud in front of Luna’s sister — one of the most powerful beings in Equestria — made them feel weighty.

“Well, I…” I started, meeting her gaze. “I love her.”

Celestia’s expression remained calm, but the slight lift of her brow told me she wasn’t letting me off the hook just yet. Her eyes, though warm with curiosity, were unyielding. “Love is a powerful word, Sebastian. And my sister… she hasn’t had the easiest path. I’m sure you know that.”

“I do,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. “I know of her past, about what she’s been through. I don’t take that lightly. And… I love her for all of it. The good, the bad — everything.”

A brief silence followed, the soft clinking of cutlery from the kitchen the only sound in the room. Celestia set her glass down gently, folding her hooves on the table, a calm expression on her face, though there was a depth in her eyes that told me she was weighing every word I spoke.

“I’m not asking for her to change,” I added, feeling the need to be absolutely clear. “I love who she is — as she is. I want to be with her. I want to be there for her, in every way I can. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know I want her in it.”

Celestia’s smile grew warmer, though it didn’t lose that edge. “Good answer.” She took a delicate sip of her wine, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “But I suppose I don’t have to tell you that loving Luna comes with certain… responsibilities.”

I nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind her words. Luna’s past, her scars — both physical and emotional — were still fresh in my mind. Being with her wasn’t just about romantic gestures and whispered promises. It meant understanding her darkness, standing by her side even in the face of that shadow.

“I know,” I said, my voice quiet but resolute. “I’m ready for that.”

Celestia leaned back in her chair, satisfied for now, though I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time she’d test me. She glanced at Aldin, who was watching the exchange with a bemused tilt of his head. “And what about you, Aldin? Are you ready for Sebastian to have someone else to dote on?”

Aldin gave a soft, indignant hoot, puffing up slightly. “He’s still mine,” he muttered, his words barely concealed under the guise of owl sounds. I couldn’t help but smirk.

Celestia’s gaze flicked back to me, her expression lightening. “You’ve been away for so long, Sebastian. It’s good to see you back, though I imagine Luna’s quite impatient to have you near again.” She chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly genuine. “She’s been rather different since your return.”

I smiled, a warmth spreading through me at the thought of Luna. It had only been a few days since we confessed our feelings for each other, but everything already felt so... different. More real. More alive. “I’m glad to be back,” I said, my voice carrying a soft fondness I didn’t even try to hide.

As if on cue, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and I felt my breath catch as Luna stepped into the room. She moved with her usual grace, her midnight mane shimmering in the dim candlelight as it flowed behind her like a living thing. Her eyes found mine instantly, and despite the grandeur of the dining hall, it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of us for that moment.

“I apologize for the delay,” she said, her voice carrying a soft edge of formality as she approached the table. But I could see the flicker of warmth in her gaze, the way her eyes softened when they met mine. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

I stood, and shook my head. “Not at all,” I replied, unable to keep the smile from my face.

“No need to apologize,” Celestia said with a playful smile, her tone carrying that glint of sisterly amusement that was growing easier for me to recognize. “We were just talking.”

Luna raised an eyebrow at her sister’s lighthearted tone, clearly catching the underlying hint in Celestia’s words, but she let it slide. Instead, she turned her attention back to me, her eyes softening as they met mine. As she moved gracefully to the seat beside me, her presence easing the lingering tension in the room.

Aldin let out a soft hoot, acknowledging Luna with a slight nod before resuming his quiet watch. Through our link, I could feel his satisfaction, a gentle wave of contentment. He was pleased — the unease that had hung in the air moments before was dissolving, the dinner’s awkward tension broken by Luna’s arrival.

"I trust the two of you haven’t been conspiring in my absence," Luna said, her eyes narrowing in mock suspicion as she glanced between Celestia and me.

Celestia’s smile grew even more radiant, her wings shifting subtly, a telltale sign of her amusement. "Conspiring? Why, dear sister, I wouldn’t dream of it," she replied, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. "Besides, Sebastian here has already passed his first test."

Luna’s gaze flicked to me, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Oh?”

I met her eyes, feeling the familiar weight of her attention, along with that ever-present warmth that seemed to envelop me whenever she focused on me. “Your sister asked me about my intentions,” I said, doing my best to keep the mood light, in spite of the gravity of the topic.

Luna’s lips curled into a knowing smile as she leaned in ever so slightly, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “And? Did you pass?”

I took up a smile of my own. “I’d like to think so.”

Celestia let out a small laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange. “He did quite well, actually,” she said, taking another sip of her wine. “But then, I expected nothing less.”

There was a moment of quiet as the three of us settled into the rhythm of dinner. Plates were passed, conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of normalcy. Well, as normal as it could get when dining with two godlike sisters.

The conversation eventually shifted to more neutral topics, from upcoming royal duties to the ongoing preparations for the Grand Galloping Gala. As much as I wasn’t one for big, fancy parties, I found myself strangely looking forward to this one — if only because Luna would be there.

“I do hope you’re prepared for the Gala, Sebastian,” Celestia said, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “It’ll be your first time attending, and it can be quite the spectacle.”

I nodded, though inwardly I wasn’t as confident. “I have a suit ready,” I replied. “My shoulder’s good to go, and my hair’s been trimmed, so I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Luna chuckled softly beside me. “It is a grand event,” she said, her tone a touch more serious. “Though if I’m being honest, the Galas I attended a thousand years ago were rather dull.”

Celestia waved a hoof dismissively. “Oh, Luna, that was so long ago. Things have changed.” She paused, her smile turning mischievous. “Besides, I have a feeling this Gala will be... different.”

I raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to Celestia’s statement than she was letting on, but she didn’t elaborate. I glanced at Luna, who merely rolled her eyes at her sister’s cryptic tone.

Fine. I’ll bite.

“Different how?” I asked cautiously.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Celestia said, her smile widening in a way that made me certain she was up to something. “Just enjoy the night. I’m sure it’ll be memorable.”

I exchanged a look with Luna, who seemed equally dubious of her sister’s intentions, but neither of us pressed further. Whatever Celestia was planning, I had a feeling we wouldn’t find out until the night of the Gala itself.

Dinner continued without any more surprises, though Luna and I exchanged subtle glances throughout the evening, a quiet understanding between us that was still new but growing stronger every day. It was as if everything had shifted since our confessions — we no longer had to hide our feelings, and that openness was refreshing.

As the meal wrapped up, Celestia dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, her golden magic swirling the glass away with practiced ease. “Well, I believe that concludes our dinner,” she said. “I have some duties to attend to before the night is over.” She gave us both a knowing look, lingering a moment longer on Luna. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Luna and I both nodded our goodbyes, watching as Celestia gracefully left the room, her radiant presence fading down the long corridor. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, I let out a small breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Your sister never misses an opportunity to test me, does she?” I said with a grin.

Luna chuckled, leaning closer to me, her wing brushing against my side. “You handled her well. She can be protective, but I think she approves of you.”

“Huh, you think so?”

She smiled playfully. “Well, you’re still here, aren’t you?”

I shook my head, an amused smile taking its place, but there was a part of me that was relieved. Earning Celestia’s approval was good, and knowing that I hadn’t somehow overstepped gave me a bit more confidence for what lay ahead.

As we stood to leave, Luna’s eyes gleamed with a certain anticipation I couldn’t quite place. There was something in her gaze, something more than the affection we had already shared. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Almost as if she were waiting for something.

The thought of attending the Gala with Luna by my side was more than enough to make me want to endure that evening. And though I wasn’t the type for grand events or elaborate gatherings, I knew that as long as she was with me, I’d manage it just fine.

As we walked together, side by side, I felt a quiet thrill in the air. Something was brewing, and though I didn’t know the full extent of what Celestia had planned for the Gala, one thing was clear: the night would be unforgettable.

Hope

The sky was painted in purples and oranges with the last rays of sunshine. The castle gardens, serene and quiet, were bathed in the twilight of evening, the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets filling the air. I walked beside Luna, enjoying the cool evening breeze as we walked the garden path.

It was peaceful — almost idyllic. Naturally, I decided to broach my curiosity.

"So, Luna," I began, glancing sideways at her. "Dreamwalking. How does it even work? Do you just... pop into someone’s dream?"

She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on her lips. "It is not quite as simple as ‘popping in,’ Sebastian. There is an art to it, a delicate balance one must maintain while traversing the Dreamscape."

"Right, right," I nodded, trying to sound like I understood completely, but she could see right through my bluff. She always did.

Luna gave a soft chuckle, her voice rich with amusement. "You’re curious, aren't you? Does the thought of exploring the dreams of others fascinate you?"

"Fascinate? I’d say more like mildly terrifies me," I admitted with a grin. "I mean, the last time we dealt with dreams, it was that vrock demon having a lovely time turning my dreams into nightmares."

Luna’s expression softened at the mention of my early nightmares. "Yes, I remember. That was quite the ordeal. But you triumphed in the end. It is a memory that I cherish — watching you rise to vanquish your fears.”

I chuckled nervously, scratching the back of my neck. "I mean, it helped having you pass me Promise. That’s not exactly how the dream went before you stepped in.”

Luna leaned in slightly, her teasing smile still there, though it was more tender now. "Ah, but I do not dreamwalk in the conventional sense, as you might expect. The Dreamscape is more than just visions of the subconscious. It is a realm that bridges reality and dreams, where time bends, and where thoughts can become quite real."

I blinked. "Real? You mean... actually real?"

She gave a small nod. "Yes, should one enter physically. It is quite dangerous, and not something to be attempted lightly. But while merely walking the Dreamscape, one's body remains here in the waking world, allowing their mind to safely roam free. Time tends to flow differently in each dream bubble, but usually no true harm can befall you."

I mulled that over, kicking a small pebble along the cobblestone path as we continued our walk. "That sounds both amazing and a little terrifying. So, can you dreamwalk into anyone’s dreams? Is there like... a list? A dream catalog?"

Luna laughed, a warm sound that echoed in the garden. "A catalog of dreams? That would be quite something, would it not?" She shook her head, smiling. "Upon entering the Dreamscape, I sense if my subjects are in need of me, particularly when particularly bad nightmares take hold. It is one of my duties to assist them in conquering their fears."

I couldn’t help but admire her for that. "That's impressive. Really, it is. But doesn’t it get a bit strange, seeing what others dream of? I mean, you must have seen some pretty interesting things."

Her mischievous grin returned. "Oh, you have no idea, my dear apprentice. The dreams of ponies can be rather unpredictable at the best of times." She glanced at me, her eyes sparkling. "And what about you, Sebastian? Have you had any dreams you would like me to visit?"

I pretended to think for a moment, stroking my chin theatrically. "Hmm, well, there was that one where I was back in the Sparring Grounds, and I was fighting off a hundred Luna clones... all demanding compliments on their manes."

Luna snorted. Actually snorted. "You jest! My mane is flawless."

I gave her a sideways look. "Well, one of the clones had a mane that was just a bit shinier than the others—"

"Sebastian!" she nudged me with her wing, laughing in mock outrage. "Such impudence!"

We both laughed, the moment light and easy, but as the chuckles faded, I found my curiosity growing again. Dreamwalking was something I had been curious about for a while, ever since she first stepped into my nightmares to help me. It seemed like such a wonderful ability, and yet, there was something deeply personal about it. To be able to tap into what an individual dreams — their very subconscious.

"All joking aside," I said, my tone becoming more serious, "what’s it like? Really? Walking through dreams, seeing all those hidden thoughts and fears?"

Luna slowed her pace, her expression thoughtful. "It is personal. Dreams are often a reflection of the dreamer’s truest self. They reveal what they may wish to hide, even from themselves. It is both a privilege and a responsibility to enter dreams."

"Sounds like a lot of pressure."

"It can be, yes. But there is also joy in it. Dreams are not always dark or frightening. They can be beautiful, whimsical... even romantic." She cast a glance my way, her voice dipping lower, almost invitingly.

I grinned. "Romantic, huh? Now that sounds interesting."

She stepped closer, her wing brushing against my arm as we walked. "Would you like to experience it for yourself, Sebastian? To walk through dreams by my side?"

My curiosity sparked. "Are you offering to take me dreamwalking?"

Luna nodded, her eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and excitement. "I am. Tonight, I shall take you with me to explore the Dreamscape. Perhaps we can start with your own dreams... perhaps even your dreams of the future." She winked, a playful glint in her eyes.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "So, this is like a date in the Dreamscape?"

Luna stopped walking and turned to face me fully. "Yes, my dear apprentice. A most unusual, but very special, date."

Luna's gaze lingered on me for a moment, her eyes full of playful affection that I was quickly growing addicted to. As she drew near, I caught a soft whiff of lavender and the refreshing chill of the night air. The combination was like a gentle salve over my senses, and It was one of the many things I loved about her — how her presence always carried the quiet calm of the night.

"A most unusual, but very special date," I echoed with a grin. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from dreamwalking, but the idea of exploring the Dreamscape with her?

Yeah, that had me hooked. As long as there are no vrocks involved, or any other demons for that matter.

With a soft chuckle, Luna led the way back toward her bedchambers, our steps akin to whispers along the stone floors of the castle. I glanced around, taking in the familiar halls that led to her spire, we had traversed these halls many times now. Usually, it was after some long night together, our bodies exhausted from sparring or whatever royal duty had kept us occupied or some sort of magic related activities.

Tonight however, was different.

We reached her bedchamber door, and she opened it with a practiced flick of her magic, the soft glow from her horn casting brief shadows along the walls. Her room was just as I remembered — spacious but not overly so, with rich dark blues and silvers alongside tributes to the night, all lit by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows. I had spent enough time here to know the space, and there was always something comforting about it, like stepping into the calmest part of the night itself.

Following Luna's lead, I made my way to the bed and sat down, taking off my boots and unbuckling my belt. Promise was placed carefully on the bedside table. My magical items joined the blade there as well. I then undressed completely and climbed into bed, feeling a twinge of pain from the scars on my left shoulder. Fully healed now, but every so often they reminded me of that day.

Of how close I came to an early grave.

Luna noticed my pause, her gaze flicking to my shoulder. She knew those scars better than anyone. After all, she had stitched them up herself, her magic guiding each thread with a care I hadn't expected back then. That night, mending my torn flesh, she showed me her scars of her own. I remember how hesitant she had been at first, but as soon as my hand touched the scar over her heart, everything had shifted between us.

That moment had changed everything. That moment had changed us.

Her expression softened as she stepped closer to me. “You’re thinking about them again, aren’t you?” she gently asked.

I shrugged lightly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Just a little. Hard not to sometimes, y’know?”

Luna’s hoof rested against my arm, her gaze lingering on the scars beneath my shirt before meeting my eyes again. “They are a sign of your bravery, but they do not define you.”

I reached up, my hand finding its way to the scar over her heart, hidden beneath her fur. “Neither do yours,” I whispered.

She leaned into my touch, a soft sigh escaping her as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. “No, they do not. But I find comfort in knowing that you do not shy away from them.”

“Never,” I replied, my voice soft but sure.

After a moment, Luna stepped back, a playful smile returning to her lips. “Come,” she said, climbing onto the bed with a graceful leap. “If we are to dreamwalk together, we must first sleep.”

I smirked. “Is that your way of saying you want to cuddle?”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “And if it was? Would you object?”

“Not a chance.”

With that, I slipped onto the bed beside her, the cool silk of the sheets contrasting perfectly with the warmth of her body. Luna shifted closer, draping a wing over me as she settled into my arms, her head resting just beneath my chin. Her scent filled my senses, calming whatever stray nerves I had lingering.

I wrapped an arm around her, my hand unconsciously drifting to her back, where one of her scars lay beneath the fur. My fingers traced over it gently, and I felt her relax further into me, the tension melting away.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to dreamwalk like this?” I asked, my voice low as the quiet of the room settled around us.

Luna gave a soft hum of amusement. “If we fall asleep, yes. It is a rather straightforward process — once you are asleep, I shall guide you into the Dreamscape. From there, we shall walk the Dreamscape together.”

I chuckled, burying my face in her mane for a moment, the soft strands brushing against my cheek. “Sounds like a pretty good deal. Exploring dreams and cuddling up with you at the same time? What more could I ever ask for?”

She gave a quiet laugh, her wing tightening around me just a tad. “You shall soon see, my dear apprentice. Now, close your eyes and let the dreams come.”

I followed her lead, my eyes closing as I let myself relax fully against her. The rhythm of her breathing, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her body pressed close to mine — it was all so familiar, so comforting. I could feel sleep’s hooks at the edges of my mind, digging into me and drawing me deeper into that quiet realm of dreams.

Luna’s voice, soft and soothing, drifted through the darkness as I began to drift off. “Tonight, we shall walk through dreams together, Sebastian. And perhaps… we shall glimpse the future your heart desires.”

With those words, sleep claimed me, and together we fell into the Dreamscape.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The world shifted around me, and I found myself in a vast, moonlit meadow. The air was cool, carrying the familiar scent of lavender mixed with the distant whispers of wind weaving through the almost kneehigh grass. Above, the sky stretched far and wide, adorned with stars that shimmered more numerous and brilliantly than they ever could in the waking world.

I realized this was no ordinary dream — it was a realm alive with magic, my creation, but not mine alone. With Luna by my side, it felt alive in ways my subconscious alone could never hope to achieve. Her magic infused every corner of this place, lending it a quiet majesty that made the air itself feel more stimulating.

I turned to her, standing a few feet ahead, her midnight-blue mane a flowing cascade of stars, more vibrant, more alive than before, as if woven from the infinite night sky. Luna radiated power, not loud or overwhelming, but deep, like a calm sea that held an undercurrent of strength. She felt different here, more solid somehow, her presence carried an unshakable power that transcended what I saw in my vrock filled nightmares of Meridin’s childhood.

It wasn't just all power, though — there was warmth in her gaze, a softness that caught me off guard. But beneath that, something lingered. A hidden intensity, unspoken but palpable, like the weight of words on the edge of her lips, waiting to be spoken.

"Your dreams are so vivid," Luna said, her voice a soft caress in the stillness, cutting through the silence.

I scratched the back of my neck, glancing around. "Yeah, guess my mind’s a bit restless sometimes." I shrugged, uncertain of where to begin. Dreamwalking with her somehow felt both natural and surreal. "So, what now? Do we just… start walking?”

Luna stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly, though not in annoyance. There was a mischievous glint in her gaze. "Dreams reveal much, Sebastian. They show us what we desire, what we fear, and what we hide from ourselves." Her voice lowered a touch. "What is it that you seek most in this life?"

I stared at her, the question tumbling over in my mind. I already knew the answer — or at least, I thought I did — but speaking it aloud was an entirely different thing.

"I want…" My voice betrayed me, and wavered.

My gaze drifted to the distant horizon, where the land stretched out beneath the sky's endless embrace. What did I want? That answer had changed since I arrived on Equis, and even more so since becoming Luna’s apprentice. At first, it had been about strength — the power to protect, to face the inevitable dangers I knew were looming somewhere ahead.

But now… everything was different.

"I want to be with you," I said, my voice firming with every word. "For as long as I can. Forever, if you’ll allow it." I locked eyes with Luna once more. "I’ve thought about it before, about the future. No matter how many possibilities I consider, you’re always there. At the heart of it. I want us to live, together."

As I spoke, her demeanor softened, and I could see the love in her gaze - a tenderness, a vulnerability that she only ever offered to me. She moved closer, her delicate wing grazing my arm. "You speak of an uncertain future, my love," she whispered, her voice resonating with undeniable honesty. "I cannot make promises of peace. As a ruler, I am bound to my kingdom, to Equestria and my sister. There will always be threats to our peace and stability.”

I knew she was right. Equestria had weathered many storms, and without a doubt more were surely on the horizon. Life garners no guarantees. I had witnessed too much to believe otherwise — creatures and forces that could tear Equestria apart if left unchecked.

And yet, one thing was clear to me: it didn’t matter.

No matter what came, be it tomorrow or centuries from now, I would face it all as long as Luna stood by my side. Maybe that made me foolish, or worse, a pawn. But in all my life, I had never known such jubilation just by simply being close to another. Fool or not — pawn or not, I’d choose this over the gnawing emptiness I had lived in my past life.

"Then I’ll fight for that peace," I said, my voice resolute. “For as long as it takes. I’m not afraid of the challenge. I’m not afraid of forever.” I chuckled softly, trying to lift the weight of the conversation. “After all, I’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out.”

Luna’s lips curved, but shadows lingered in those beautiful eyes of hers. "And if that time stretches into eternity?” she asked, her voice soft, yet sharp. "Would you still be content, knowing I cannot forsake my duties? That my love for you must always be measured against my responsibilities to Equestria?"

Her question caught me off guard. Her pupils, now narrowed into slits, reflected something feral, something ancient. Not a threat, but rather a taste of the power she held — of the darkness that had once borne the name Nightmare Moon.

"I know who you are, Luna," I replied, unwavering. "I know the burdens you carry, the scars that mark you. I don’t expect you to abandon anything for me. I’ll stand with you, through all of it. Even if it means sharing you with your kingdom, with your sister. I’ll always be here.”

Luna’s lips curled into a smile, a flicker of fangs flashing as she moved closer. Her magic stirred the air around us, bending the dream by her mere presence. "Bold words," she purred, her voice dipping into that familiar seductive tone. "But do you truly know what you’re committing to, Sebastian?"

I swallowed, feeling the weight of her presence, dark and intoxicating. But beneath it all, beneath the power and the shadow, she was still Luna. My Luna. My love.

Maybe, I was seeing the world through rose-colored lenses.

Maybe, I was just hopelessly stubborn.

Maybe, I was a little stupid.

“I do,” I said, voice resolute. “Nightmare or not, I’ll stand by you.”

Her gaze lingered on mine, searching, the dark intensity that surrounded her slowly ebbing. Her fangs receded, and the tension in the air melted away. Her smirk softened, turning into a smile that carried both amusement and gratitude.

"You are a curious one, Sebastian," she said, voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "To accept all of me so easily… most would be terrified."

I returned her smile, shaking my head. "I’ve faced worse."

"Have you now?" She tilted her head, curiosity piqued.

"Nightmare Moon, Death Worm, Whatever-that-was on the Crystal Mountains, Nine-Headed Hydra," I listed casually, ticking each off my fingers. "Yeah, I think I’ve handled a few tough situations."

Her laugh rang out, clear and melodic, a sound I found myself living for. "You make it sound so simple. Yet I know the challenges we face will only grow. There will always be something more."

I stepped closer, brushing her wing with the back of my hand. "Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together."

She turned to me, her eyes filled with the same deep affection I’d come to cherish. "Together," she repeated, her voice soft as moonlight.

As the dream shifted once more, she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "Shall we see what your dreams hold for the future, my bold apprentice?"

A smile tugged at my lips, a pleasant chill running through me at her words. "Lead the way."

The dream bubble blurred, pulling us into another dream. The moonlit field vanished, replaced by the crisp, cold air of winter. I blinked, finding myself standing in thick, untouched snow that stretched out in every direction. Snowflakes fell gently from the sky, delicate ice crystals twirling down in lazy spirals.

The first thing I noticed was the change in our clothing. I was dressed in a heavy woolen coat that reached down to my knees, paired with thick boots and gloves. A scarf, warm and soft, was wrapped around my neck, and the scent of pine hung in the air. Beside me, Luna stood in her own winter attire — something far more casual than her usual regalia. A cozy knitted scarf, a deep purple that complimented her mane, was wrapped snugly around her neck, and the cutest pair of earmuffs rested atop her head, contrasting with her dark mane.

She looked… adorable, and I couldn't help but smile.

Before I could say anything, Luna tilted her head back, sticking out her tongue. At first, I assumed she was savoring the crisp winter air, but then I spotted it — a lone snowflake twirling down to land perfectly on her tongue. Her eyes crossed in a comical attempt to focus on the delicate crystal before it melted, and a soft, childlike laugh escaped her.

“What are you doing?” I asked, the grin already spreading across my face.

“Catching snowflakes, of course,” she replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem very princess-like.”

She glanced at me, smirking. “You’d be surprised what we princesses do when no one is looking.” With a playful flick of her mane, she stuck her tongue out again, her focus entirely on the drifting snowflakes above.

The sight was priceless — Luna, Princess of the Night, standing in the snow with her tongue out like a filly trying to catch snowflakes. I couldn't hope to hold back a chuckle. “Alright, now you’re just showing off.”

Luna’s eyes glittered mischievously. “Do you think you can best me at this, my dear apprentice?” she teased, her tone challenging.

I grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

I tilted my head back, mimicking her movements, the cold nipping at my skin as I waited for a snowflake to land. Luna’s light giggle beside me made focusing almost impossible, but eventually, I felt the brief, cold touch of one melt on my tongue. I laughed triumphantly. “Got one!”

“Well done!” Luna chuckled, leaning in close, her breath warm against the icy air. “But can you catch two in a row?”

I turned toward her, and suddenly the playfulness shifted. My grin softened as I gazed at her, affection bubbling within me. “I think I’ve already caught what matters most.”

Luna’s smirk faded, replaced by curiosity as she raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“You,” I said, my voice low and sincere.

For a moment, her playful demeanor faded, replaced with a quiet warmth. She leaned in, her forehead gently pressing against mine, our breath mingling in the chill. “And you have me,” she whispered. “Always.”

Time seemed to still as we stood there, close and content. Then, after a beat, Luna’s familiar mischievous grin returned. “Shall we head inside? I believe a nice fire awaits us.”

I glanced past her and noticed the small, inviting cottage for the first time. Smoke curled lazily from its chimney, and the warm glow from the windows promised a crackling fire inside. The scent of pine and spices, maybe cinnamon, wafting through the air.

I gestured towards the cottage. "Lead the way," I said, echoing my earlier words, but this time with a grin.

We made our way toward the cottage, our steps crunching in the snow. As we approached the door, I couldn’t help but glance at Luna again, my heart swelling at the sight of her, bundled up in her cozy winter attire, looking more gorgeous than ever. The way the snowflakes clung to her mane, the way her scarf framed her face — it was a side of her I rarely got to see, and I cherished every second of it.

As we reached the door, Luna paused, her magic gently opening it with a soft creak. She turned to me, her eyes sparkling. "After you," she said, her voice warm and inviting.

I stepped into the cottage, the warmth embracing me like an old friend. The interior was charming in its simplicity, with wooden beams overhead and walls adorned with cheerful homey decorations. The flickering flames in the fireplace cast a welcoming glow, making the space feel cozy and lived in.

Luna stepped in behind me, and I could feel her presence, a calm energy that made the atmosphere of the room somehow feel even cozier. The gentle crackle of the fire filled the air, and the scent of cinnamon became more pronounced. I glanced over my shoulder at her, taking in how the light danced across her features, making her look stunning. The winter attire she wore hugged her figure just right, and the knitted scarf underscored it all.

“This place is perfect,” I said, glancing around before turning to face her completely. “It’s like something out of a winter fairytale.”

Luna stepped deeper into the room, her ears flicking playfully. “It’s just a dream,” she said, winking. “We can shape it however we like.”

I flung my winter clothes onto the couch next to the fireplace, then walked over to the soft rug and collapsed onto it. As I sat down, the cozy warmth enveloped me instantly, providing a sense of comfort and relaxation. “In that case, I vote we stay here for a while.”

Luna’s gaze softened as she moved to join me, settling beside me on the rug. The heat from the fire mixed with the warmth of her body, creating an atmosphere that was almost intoxicating. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” she murmured, stretching her legs out gracefully as her scarf slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse of her neck.

I cleared my throat, trying to focus. “So, what do you usually do in a cozy winter cottage?” I asked, aiming for light conversation.

Her eyes twinkled as she turned toward me. “Oh, you know… we could read, drink hot cocoa, or perhaps… catch a few more snowflakes?” Her grin widened, her tongue flicking out playfully.

I chuckled. “Hot cocoa sounds nice, but I’m starting to think we could find something more… interesting to do.” I shot her a teasing glance.

Luna’s smile grew as she leaned closer, her breath warm and tinged with amusement. “Interesting, you say? What exactly do you have in mind, my dear apprentice?”

“Well…” I hesitated, feeling the warmth of both the fire and her proximity. “We could just enjoy the fire, share a few stories... or—” I let the pause hang between us, inviting her to read between the lines.

“Or?” Luna prompted, her tone light but filled with curiosity.

“Or… we could cuddle,” I said, allowing a playful edge to color my voice.

“Cuddle?” she echoed, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

I laughed softly, the heat rising in my cheeks. “Maybe… cuddle and get a bit closer?”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Ah, so you’re aiming for more than just warmth in front of the fire?”

Before I could respond, she shifted, closing the space between us until her warmth enveloped me completely. My pulse quickened as our closeness deepened, her presence all-encompassing.

“I suppose cuddling is a good start,” she whispered, her body leaning into mine as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But I’m not opposed to getting a little closer than that.”

With a gentle shift, Luna leaned in further, and suddenly, our lips were inches apart. The space between us dissolved as I moved closer, meeting her halfway. Our lips met softly, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened, pulling us into an electric connection.

I pulled her closer, and the kiss deepened, her warmth enveloping me in a way that made it hard to think of anything else. Luna’s hooves traced the contours of my face, her touch sending jolts of pleasure through me. Every time her hoof brushed against my skin, it left a trail of fire, sparking a need for more.

When I finally pulled away, gasping for air, I found her staring at me with mischief dancing alongside desire. “You’re making this winter dream into something unforgettable,” I murmured, my voice low.

She smiled, her lips brushing against mine teasingly. “And we haven’t even reached the best part yet,” she whispered, her words sending a fresh wave of anticipation through me.

Summoning a boldness that surprised even me, I shifted our positions, gently easing her back onto the soft rug. Luna’s eyes widened with surprise before settling into a gleam of excitement. The warmth of her body mixed with the cozy heat of the fire, filling the space between us.

“Luna,” I whispered, torn between the innocent playfulness of earlier and the rising intensity of the moment. “Is this what you meant by getting closer?”

Her breath hitched as a playful smile curled on her lips. “Oh, yes,” she breathed, her voice laced with excitement. “And this is just the beginning.”

I leaned down, capturing her lips again, the kiss taking on a new intensity. The air between us felt charged, crackling with every touch. My hands moved instinctively, tracing the fabric of her scarf, sliding across the soft curves of her body. The cozy confines of the cottage faded into the background as the moment between us deepened.

The fire’s flickering light danced across the room, its glow dancing and growing to the rhythm of our passion.

Luna’s hooves gripped my shoulders, pulling me closer until her body melted into mine. Our kiss was fervent, a culmination of the unspoken hunger that had simmered since the night we first lost ourselves in each other. Every movement, every touch felt like it was setting the space around us alight.

We broke apart, breathless, our lips curling into smiles. I couldn’t tear my gaze from hers, feeling alive in a way that only Luna seemed to stir in me. “So, what’s next on our cozy little agenda?” I teased, though the yearning in my voice gave away my desire for more.

Her eyes shimmered with a playful glint, though the hunger beneath them was unmistakable. “I think it’s time we fully embrace what this cottage offers,” she whispered, her voice dripping with allure.

The firelight cast a warm, amber glow over her as I hovered above her, her body inviting me in with every curve and line. Her playfulness lingered, but the intensity in her gaze mirrored my own. My hands roamed instinctively, sliding down her sides, savoring the softness of her fur and the heat radiating from her body. Her hooves wrapped around my back, pulling me closer, the sensation of her breath against my neck driving me forward.

As her scarf slipped slightly, revealing the delicate curve of her neck, my gaze followed, drawn to the tantalizing sight. Her body shifted beneath me, her warmth radiating into my skin. My fingers found the familiar scar over her heart, brushing it softly. Luna shivered under my touch, the reaction only deepened the tension.

A soft sound escaped her lips, her head falling back, exposing more of her neck. The firelight danced along her fur, inviting me closer. Unable to resist, I lowered my lips to the hollow of her collarbone, placing slow, deliberate kisses there, feeling her breath catch beneath me. Each kiss lingered, savoring the taste of her, the scent of lavender and night air mingling with the warmth of the fire.

“Sebastian…” she breathed, her voice low, tinged with need. Her body arched into mine, the layers of clothing between us doing little to quell the growing heat. I lifted my eyes to her, taking in the way her mane spilled around her like a dark halo, glowing faintly in the firelight. She was every bit the goddess she appeared, powerful and untouchable — and yet in this moment, soft and inviting.

My hands roamed further, feeling the heat of her body beneath my fingers. Her fur was impossibly soft under my fingertips, her muscles tense as I traced the familiar ridges of her scars. Luna’s breath quickened, her hooves tightening around me, encouraging me on. I let my hands travel up her back, fingers tracing each scar I knew by heart now, feeling her melt beneath me with each touch.

Her hooves moved with more urgency now, guiding me as I leaned in for another kiss, this time deeper, more intense. A twinge in my left shoulder reminded me of the hydra’s bite, but the memory only fueled the moment — our shared scars, physical and emotional, binding us ever closer.

“You’re incredible,” I whispered against her lips, my voice rough with desire. Luna let out a soft, approving hum, her hooves moving in ways that sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. Each touch, each breath, pulled us further into each other, leaving nothing but the fire, the warmth, and the feel of her beneath me.

I felt her magic spark in the air, a subtle pulse as her scarf slipped away, falling to the floor in a whisper of fabric. With that simple gesture, the last barrier between us vanished and seemed to heighten everything. My lips found her neck again, trailing gentle kisses and playful nips as I went, enjoying the way she reacted to each loving touch. Each time, she responded with subtle shifts, her hips moving beneath mine in a slow, sensual rhythm that left no doubt where we were headed.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, the sound barely audible, yet it carried enough heat to send a thrill racing through me. Her wings fluttered, brushing lightly against my arms as I captured her lips again, this time deeper, more urgent. Her hooves wrapped around my back, pulling me closer, her body melting into mine with every touch.

Her fur felt like velvet beneath my fingertips, soft and smooth. The scent of night air and lavender enveloped me as I ran my hand along the curve of her hip and felt her body respond to my touch with a shudder. Our desire for each other intensified as the firelight danced around us, casting flickering shadows and heightening our passion with every passing second.

Luna’s breaths came faster, more ragged. She arched against me, her hooves gripping my arms with a possessive strength, her gaze locking with mine. The intensity in her eyes was overwhelming, promising everything we both craved but couldn’t yet put into words.

I could feel the fire within me matching the heat in her gaze, and I leaned in, brushing my lips against her ear. “I need you,” I whispered, my voice raw with desire.

Her response was immediate — her body pressed harder against mine, her hooves sliding up to my shoulders, pulling me down into her embrace. Her magic crackled faintly in the air, sparking against my skin, adding another layer of sensation that made my head swim. My hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of her body, feeling the way her muscles tensed and relaxed under my touch, the way she responded to each kiss, each caress.

Each kiss, every touch, stoked the heat between us, the tension building, as if the very air had thickened. Luna let out a soft sound, her breath hitching as I kissed down her neck again, my hands exploring further, tracing the elegant lines of her body beneath mine. The fire crackled beside us, but the real heat was here, in the space between us, growing hotter with each show of affection.

Luna’s breath hitched again as I pressed against her, my lips finding their way back to hers, capturing them in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. Her hooves tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, her body arching into mine with a desperation that matched my own.

The moment was poised to tip over into something even more intense when, suddenly, the fire in the fireplace extinguished with a deafening whoosh. The cottage was plunged into darkness, shrouding us completely.

The shift was immediate, jarring even. My breath caught as the warmth of the room drained all at once. The absence of the fire left a vacuum, the cold creeping in around us. Luna’s body was still beneath me, but the heat between us faltered as the room fell unnaturally silent.

Except for the voices.

At first, they were faint, barely more than a shadow of a murmur on the edge of my hearing. I might have ignored them, written them off as some trick of the mind, but they grew louder — persistent. A dissonant chorus, like someone was right outside, talking to themselves... or rather, arguing. Several voices, all the same man, overlapping, out of sync, filling the silence with fragmented phrases that I could never hope to make out.

I tensed, the familiarity of it seeping into my bones. It was like a ghost from a forgotten nightmare. My heart pounded as recognition crept in, cold as ice down my spine. I knew those voices.

The Crystal Mountains.

Luna’s hooves tightened around me, sensing the shift in my body. "Sebastian?" she asked, her voice soft and questioning, but the concern was there. She hadn’t heard it yet — hadn’t felt the creeping wrongness that now enveloped our shared dream.

“Something is outside…” I whispered, my own voice sounding foreign in the suffocating unnatural quiet. I pulled away from her, my body instinctively going rigid, every sense on edge.

The whispering continued, louder now, more distinct but still maddeningly incomprehensible, like a dozen versions of the same man were talking over each other, yet none were saying anything coherent. It was impossible to follow — impossible to understand. I swallowed hard, the air around us growing thicker, heavy with something unnatural, something wrong.

I stood slowly, the weight of the moment crashing down like a tidal wave, snuffing out any lingering warmth from our earlier intimacy. Luna was rising beside me, her eyes narrowed, sensing it now — the shift, the darkness of nothingness pressing in. Her horn glowed faintly, casting an eerie, pale light around us, but it did nothing to dispel the feeling of being watched.

And then I heard it.

“I have found you, Sebastian Hilam.”

The words cut through the cacophony of whispers, all the voices coming together in perfect unison for just that singular sentence. The sound was sharp, almost metallic, yet layered with a depth that rattled through my very soul. My heart stopped, every hair on my body standing on end.

Luna’s eyes widened, her body shifting into a defensive stance, wings flaring slightly. “What—?”

My breath came in short, uneven bursts as I turned my head toward the window. There, in the darkness beyond the glass, I saw them — two glowing eyes, disembodied, hanging in the void. Gold, encircled with sickly green, they pulsed slowly, like the beating of some malevolent heart. They hung suspended in the pitch-black void outside the cottage, looking in, staring through the window.

No, not staring — piercing through, like my soul was laid bare before this abomination.

A rush of terror flooded my senses, the recognition hitting me like a punch to the gut. I had seen those eyes before. On the mountains. They had looked at me then, through the storm and the snow, and the ill-perceived safety of the igloo. My throat tightened, the icy fingers of dread wrapping around me, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

Not again. Not here. Please.

I raised my hands to begin casting a spell, but every muscle in my body was as taut as a bowstring and I couldn’t quite grasp the magic. No matter which spell I went to, the incantations slipped from my mind, and the necessary somatic components followed suit. It was as though I could not even begin to cast before this… this thing.

The whispers had stopped now, replaced by a hollow silence, as if the very air had been drained from the room. I could hear my blood pounding away in my ears, could feel Luna’s presence next to me, tense and alert. But it was distant, like she was at the end of a long tunnel.

“Sebastian,” Luna whispered urgently, her voice cutting through the haze that had settled over my mind. I tore my gaze away from the window, my pulse racing as I tried to steady myself, to push away the rising panic.

“It’s…” I whispered. “The thing from the mountains…”

Her eyes widened in understanding, and she took a step closer to me, her magic crackling in the air. “What does it want?” she asked, her voice hard, determined and unafraid. But I had no answer. I didn’t know what it wanted. All I knew was that it had found me.

The air around us seemed to warp, reality itself bending and twisting under the weight of whatever presence lingered just beyond the walls. The space outside the window began to disintegrate, fragments of the landscape falling away into nothingness, like the dream itself was unraveling. I could feel it — sense it — something about this thing, this creature, was wrong.

It didn’t belong here. It didn’t belong anywhere.

The whispers started again, low and guttural, echoing all around us, growing louder with each passing second. The room was collapsing — we were collapsing, falling into that void in which there was no escape.

Luna moved, stepping in front of me protectively, her horn glowing brighter as she cast a barrier between us and the window. But even her magic and mastery over dreams, powerful as it was, seemed to falter in the presence of those baleful eyes. The barrier flickered, the edges warping as though reality itself rejected it.

The sight chilled me. This creature — this thing — wasn't just pressing against her magic; it was unmaking it. I could feel it now, a creeping, suffocating wrongness that ate away at everything it touched. The dream bubble around us — the cozy winter cottage, the warmth of the hearth that had so recently cradled us — was dissolving into an abyss, swallowed by the nothingness that followed in the wake of those disembodied eyes.

A voice, hollow and cold, echoed in my mind, reverberating through the crumbling dream bubble. “Do not run, Sebastian Hilam.”

"Luna..." I whispered, my voice trembling.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the window, from those glowing, disembodied eyes. My heart pounded in my chest, cold sweat running down my back as the whispers grew louder, more insistent. The world was coming apart, and that thing… it had found me again. It was pulling me toward it, the very space around me warping, breaking under its presence.

Luna turned toward me, her eyes wide with realization. “We have to go. Now.”

I could hear the urgency in her voice, but my legs felt rooted to the spot. Every instinct screamed to move, to run, but I was frozen, staring into those glowing, malignant eyes. They pulsed with malevolent purpose, as if they were drawing me in, pulling me toward that gnawing void.

The floorboards beneath us groaned as cracks spiderwebbed out from the window, the very wood splintering into nothingness. I watched in horror as the edges of the cottage began to disintegrate, swallowed by the nullity. The winter wonderland outside, once serene and peaceful, was now fading into blackness, as the dream bubble itself ceased to exist.

And then, out of nowhere, I felt the familiar weight of Promise in my hands.

The sword materialized in my grip without my calling of it, its blade gleaming faintly in the waning light of the room. The crescent moon engraved on its pommel seemed to shimmer as if responding to my fear. The sight of it jolted something inside me — a reminder of who I was, of what I could endure and my promises.

I gripped Promise tighter, feeling its comforting weight, but before I could even think to act, Luna was beside me, her magic wrapping around us both. “Hold on,” she whispered, her voice strained but resolute.

With a sudden surge of power, the entire scene shifted. The walls of the cottage warped and stretched like the surface of a bubble about to burst. The cold bite of the void outside closed in, the cottage walls evaporating into nonexistence, the fire long dead, and the floor itself buckling as the nothingness clawed at reality. Luna’s horn flared, brilliant against the encroaching darkness, and then we were ripped away.

The world collapsed in on itself, and we were flying — no, hurtling — through a swirling void, surrounded by a sea of stars. My breath caught in my throat as I realized we were no longer in the cottage, no longer in that crumbling nightmare of a dream bubble. We were now in the greater Dreamscape, the expanse of space and starlight all around us, stretching endlessly in every direction.

Luna held me close, her magic forming a protective barrier around us, shielding us from the void outside. I could still feel the distant pull of the creature's presence behind us, like a dark shadow lingering at the edge of my consciousness. Its whispers were faint now, but the weight of its demand still clung to me.

The whispers surged again, frantic and angry, “Do not run, Sebastian Hilam. Do not run from me.”

But we were running. Luna was pulling us through the Dreamscape at a speed that made my head spin, the stars rushing past in a blur of light. I glanced at her, my heart still racing, her face set in a grim expression as she navigated us through the endless expanse.

Her wings flared, beating against the airless space as she guided us, her magic crackling in the air around us. “I can’t wake us up,” she said through gritted teeth, the strain evident in her voice. “That thing… it’s keeping us here.”

My grip tightened on Promise, the sword serving more as a lifeline of sorts rather than an actual blade in the midst of this chaos. "Then where are we going?"

Her eyes softened for a brief moment as they met mine, though her resolve didn’t waver. “Somewhere it can’t follow. The Tree of Harmony.”

Her words were reassuring, but a cold dread still gnawed at the back of my mind. Even here, in this sea of stars, I could still feel the creature's presence — a distant pull, like it was stretching reality itself, reaching for us.

Luna's magic pulsed again, and the stars around us began to take shape, their familiar constellations coming into view. I blinked, my heart calming slightly as I recognized the formations she had taught me during our nights together beneath the sky.

The stars. I knew these stars well.

Navigator. Guardian. Dreamweaver.

The stars were old friends, their light a guide as we fled through the endless void of the Dreamscape. I could feel Luna’s magic wrapping around us tighter, a barrier against the darkness that still hunted us.

But the voices… they wouldn’t stop.

“Do not run…”

Each repetition sent a shiver down my spine, the words creeping into my mind like a cold breath. The further we flew, the fainter the voice became, but it didn’t fade completely. It lingered, a phantom in the corners of my consciousness. The wrongness of it gnawed at me, the way it pulled at the very fabric of everything I knew.

The stars began to shift, and a new shape materialized in the vast sea of space. A floating mass of land, unlike anything I’d ever seen, drifted ahead of us. It was a sight both familiar and strange. In my time amongst the books of the castle library, I had read many a tale of the Tree of Harmony, but I never would’ve suspected it to be here — within the Dreamscape.

The massive crystal tree towered into the starry void, its branches stretching out as if they were holding up the very stars themselves. The light from the stars above caught on the crystalline surface, refracting into a kaleidoscope of colors that bathed the floating island in an ethereal glow. Beneath it, the land was dotted with countless weapons — polearms, swords, spears, and more — planted into the ground as though waiting for their wielders to return. Some bore Luna’s sigil, others Celestia’s, but it was Luna’s that caught my attention. They were more worn, more used. The signs of countless battles were etched into the steel, yet each weapon gleamed as if freshly polished and maintained.

I glanced at Luna, her face unreadable as we landed softly on the path that led toward the tree. Her wings folded neatly at her sides, and her horn still glowed faintly with residual magic. There was a tension in her posture, though, a readiness. She was calm, but not at ease.

We began to walk, side by side, up the winding path toward the base of the Tree of Harmony. The silence that surrounded us felt heavy, oppressive even, as if the very air here was thick with the weight of the recent events. My eyes kept flicking to the weapons, each one planted in the earth like a gravestone marking forgotten battles, forgotten struggles.

“Luna,” I said, my voice low, trying to break the silence. “Will we be safe here?”

She glanced at me, her expression serious. “For now,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “This place exists beyond the reach of that… thing. The Tree of Harmony’s magic protects us here.”

I nodded, but the unease still clung to me. Even now I could feel the presence of that creature, like a dark stain in the back of my mind. Its whispers had quieted some, but they hadn’t disappeared. I gripped Promise a little tighter, the weight of the sword in my hand bringing me some reassurance.

The path curved upward, and the closer we got to the tree, the more its light intensified. It was beautiful in a way that was hard to describe — otherworldly, yes, but also peaceful, serene. The kind of peace I only feel when I’m completely at ease, the kind of peace the thing had shattered only moments ago.

But even in this place, the memory of those eyes, those glowing gold and green eyes, lingered in my thoughts. The way they had seemed to stare through me, as if they saw more than just this plane of dreams. I couldn’t shake the feeling that even here, under the protection of the Tree of Harmony, I wasn’t safe.

“What was that thing?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Luna didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were focused ahead, on the tree, but I could see the flicker of concern in her gaze. She was thinking, weighing her words.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” She glanced at me, her expression darkening. “Its very touch unravels the Dreamscape. The fact that it reached you, in this way…”

I didn’t need her to finish the sentence. The implications were clear. Whatever it was, whatever that thing wanted — it wasn’t going to stop. It was relentless, and it had found me, again.

But why now? If it was as relentless as it seems then why did the thing wait this long to pursue me?

I had thought I had left the monster behind in the Crystal Mountains — to be handled once I grew stronger. I assumed since it had left me alone that I could take the time to grow stronger and prepare for our next meeting. But it was here, in the Dreamscape with us.

The voices, distant now but still present, whispered in the back of my mind again.

“Do not run…”

I swallowed hard, focusing on the path ahead, on the towering form of the Tree of Harmony. Its light grew brighter, more intense, the closer we came. It seemed to pulse in time with our steps, as if the tree itself was aware of our presence, as if it was welcoming us.

“We’ll be safe here,” Luna said again, more to herself than to me, her voice barely audible. She led the way, her eyes locked on the great tree. I followed, trying to ignore the weight that pressed against my chest, the nagging feeling that we were just biding time.

But as we walked, I could feel a slight tremor in the air — the faintest ripple in the Dreamscape, like the whisper of a distant storm.

And the creature’s words echoed again, low and ominous, barely more than a breath, but closer all the same.

“Do not run, Sebastian Hilam…”

The words slithered through my mind, their weight growing heavier with every step we took. I tried to focus on the Tree of Harmony ahead, its glow bathing the area in a light that should have been comforting, but the closer we got, the more it felt like the light was retreating.

My breath caught in my throat as the voice echoed again, closer, like it was breathing down my neck. The creature wasn’t following us — it was there, just beyond the edge of perception, a shadow looming over everything and nothing at all. And it was relentless. It wasn’t something I could fight with magic and blade or face with courage; it was something that had twisted its way into our dream, breaking it apart, unraveling the Dreamscape, and now it had me cornered. “I see you... inevitable... do not run…”

I gripped Promise tighter, the sword feeling foreign in my hands despite the familiarity of its weight. My knuckles turned white as we reached the base of the tree. Luna stopped beside me, her eyes fixed on the glowing branches above, as if she were trying to draw strength from the ancient magic of the Tree of Harmony itself.

But I couldn’t focus on that. My vision blurred, my breath quickening as the overwhelming dread clawed at my chest. The air felt thick, oppressive, like it was pressing in from all sides. The safety of the tree, Luna’s presence, all of it felt distant, unreachable.

I could feel myself unraveling, just like the Dreamscape around us was going to. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My heart pounded faster, hammering against my ribs as if it were trying to escape. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t breathe. The weight of everything — the thing’s voice, its pursuit, its damning presence — pressed down on me, harder and harder, until my legs buckled.

I dropped to my knees, gasping for air, trying to fight the tightness in my chest, but it was too much. Too heavy. Too suffocating. The ground beneath me felt like it was slipping away, like I was about to fall into nothingness.

I had faced threats that would’ve slain others. But this — this was different. This was hopeless. For the first time, I felt like there was no possibility of escape, no fight with odds of victory. No strategy, no spells, no weapons. Only dread. Only the crushing reality that I was not in control of my own fate… maybe I never was.

“Seb…” Luna’s voice broke through the haze, soft but firm. She knelt beside me, her wings folding protectively around us, cocooning me in the shadow of her presence. Her hooves touched my shoulders, solid and real in a realm that was soon to fall apart.

“You’re not alone,” she said gently, no magic, no force, just her words, her presence grounding me. “Breathe, Seb.”

I tried, but the panic clawed at me, threatening to pull me under.

“Breathe,” she repeated, her voice unwavering. Her touch was firm but reassuring, her eyes steady as she looked into mine. There was no pity in her gaze, just an understanding, a quiet patience that cut through the terror gripping me.

I tried again, closing my eyes, focusing on her voice. In. Out. One breath at a time. Her words, her closeness, helped push the panic back, inch by inch. The crushing weight lifted, not completely, but enough for me to take a full breath. My hands shook as I loosened my grip on Promise, the hilt slick with sweat. I hated how weak I felt, how the fear had overtaken me so easily.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, ashamed of my own weakness.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Luna said softly, her wings still wrapped around me. “It’s normal to feel fear, Sebastian. It’s ok. You are not alone in this.”

I nodded, though the knot of shame still twisted inside me. She had seen me at my worst, and yet she was still here, by my side. I took another shaky breath, the air still paradoxically thick and thin at the same time, but somehow bearable all the same.

We stayed like that for a moment, her warmth surrounding me, her presence steadying me against the terror that still whispered in the back of my mind. I could hear the creature’s voice again, closer now and persistent. It was still out there, approaching, watching.

“I can’t fight it, Luna,” I said, my voice trembling. “I don’t know how. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Luna looked at me, her expression serious. “We will find a way,” she said firmly. “You are stronger than you think.”

I wanted to believe her, but doubt gnawed at me. Before I could respond, the air around us shifted. The ground beneath us trembled, a ripple of cold washing over the land. Luna’s wings tightened around me as she stood up, her gaze snapping to the horizon.

I followed her gaze, my stomach twisting into knots.

A shape began to form at the edge of the floating land, just beyond the safety of the Tree of Harmony. The darkness gathered, coiling in on itself, and within that darkness, two glowing eyes appeared — gold encircled with green, hanging in the void.

The thing had found us. It didn’t need to say a word to affect me. Its presence alone was enough to send a chill down my spine, making the air feel colder, as reality itself recoiled from its touch.

It spoke, its voice low and full of certainty, like the tolling of a bell. A bell that tolled for me.

“Inevitable.”

The word hung in the air, filling the space between us. It was a promise, a claim. And no matter how hard we tried to escape, it would come for me.

Luna’s eyes narrowed, her stance shifting as she positioned herself between me and the creature.

But the weight of that single word, "inevitable," pressed down on me harder than anything else.

Because, deep down, a part of me knew it to be true.

I couldn’t look away from the creature floating just beyond the edge of the landmass. Its glowing eyes pierced through the dark void like twin beacons of dread. My breath quickened again, the fear I had just barely managed to contain threatened to resurface.

Luna stood firm at my side, her wings unfurling slightly as her horn began to glow. The air around us crackled with her magic, and the Tree of Harmony, towering above us, pulsed with a faint light, as if sensing the presence of the creature as well.

It began to move.

The creature’s form shifted, the darkness condensing, twisting into something vaguely humanoid. It wasn’t solid, not entirely. Its limbs seemed to stretch and warp like smoke, its edges fraying and curling as though reality itself struggled to contain it. There was something profoundly wrong about it — like it didn’t belong here, didn’t belong anywhere.

I tried to grasp my magic again… nothing.

My hands tightened around Promise in a rarely used two-handed grip. The blade hummed with a faint glow, ready, but ultimately useless against something of this caliber. I didn’t know what to do, and for the first time, I was terrified that there was nothing I could do. Luna glanced at me, her eyes hard but calm. I took solace in that glance, and tried to return what I hoped was a confident smile.

The creature drifted forward, closing the distance between itself and the boundary of the floating land. My heart pounded louder in my ears as it extended a dark, twisted mockery of a limb, hovering over the surface. Time seemed to slow as what I assumed to be a foot of that vague shape began to lower, making contact with the ground of our landmass.

And then — the Tree reacted.

A brilliant, searing beam of rainbow-colored light shot from its branches, the same radiant power I had seen once before from the Elements of Harmony themselves. It struck the creature before it could fully step onto the land, sending ripples of power coursing through the space around us. The force of it made me flinch, the sheer intensity of the light blinding me for a moment.

The creature recoiled, its form flickering wildly as the light engulfed it. The air was filled with a strange, distorted hum, like the fabric of the Dreamscape was protesting its presence. For a brief moment, it seemed like the light had overwhelmed it, forcing it back into the oblivion from which it came.

But then, the light dimmed.

The Tree’s radiant glow faltered, flickering as though drained of its strength. The rainbow beam sputtered out, and the crystalline branches above us dimmed. The Tree still stood, but it looked... weaker, as if it had spent too much energy repelling the creature. Luna took a step back, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the Tree.

The creature’s form, though weakened, remained. It flickered in and out, like a bad dream trying to cling to existence. Its eyes never left us. For a moment, I hoped that maybe the Tree had pushed it far enough away — that it wouldn’t return, or better yet: killed the damned thing.

But that hope was short-lived. The creature floated back to its original place, just beyond the edge of the landmass, the vague shape of its humanoid form still intact, though now more translucent, more formless.

It watched.

And then, it spoke again.

“The next time we meet, Sebastian Hilam, you will come to me.”

The voice was soft but carried an undeniable weight, as though the words themselves were a curse being etched into my very soul.

“It is... inevitable.”

The air around us chilled as the words hung there, filling the space with a heavy, oppressive silence. I swallowed, my throat tight, unable to respond. The creature didn’t move, didn’t advance. It simply remained, hovering at the edge of reality, watching, waiting.

Without any further communication, it started to drift back into the emptiness, its form blending in with the darkness. Its piercing eyes were the final thing to fade away, leaving behind a lingering feeling that we were not done yet. Not even close.

As soon as it vanished, the suffocating weight in the air lifted, and I could finally breathe unburdened. Luna exhaled too, her wings snapping back against her sides, though she didn’t fully relax. The thing might have retreated, but this wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.

The Tree of Harmony flickered weakly, its glow struggling to recover from whatever power it had spent forcing that thing away. I stood still, staring at the empty space where the creature had been, its words still twisting through my mind, each syllable sinking in deeper.

Inevitable.

What the hell was that thing? And why did it seem so damn sure I’d come to it?

I didn’t have the answers. But I knew one thing: there was no fucking chance I was going anywhere near it.

Luna turned to me, her expression clouded, her voice quiet but resolute. “We need to wake up,” she said. “Now.”

I could feel the tension in the void of the Dreamscape begin to ease with its departure, but there was no mistaking the strain on Luna’s face — or the subtle dimming of the Tree of Harmony behind us. Something about all of this had taken a toll on her, on me, on everything. Whatever that thing was, it had left its mark, and I could feel it like a stain on my very soul.

Luna's horn lit up, her magic weaving around us like delicate threads, pulling us out of the Dreamscape. The stars and constellations, the Dreamscape, the weakened Tree — all of it disappeared in an instant. Her magic wrapped around me, soft and insistent, guiding me toward consciousness. This time, there was no struggle, no oppressive force trying to trap us.

And then I was awake.

I blinked, disoriented, feeling the familiar comfort of Luna's bed beneath me. Sunlight filtered through her chamber, bathing everything in a soft, golden glow. The silken sheets wrapped around us, and I realized she hadn’t moved an inch. We were still nestled together, just as we had been before our Dreamscape date began. The cold dread that had gripped me moments ago was replaced by the comforting proximity of her body, her chest rising and falling gently against mine.

The fear had subsided, but the memory? That would stay.

For a long moment, silence wrapped around us, the world beyond the walls of Luna’s chamber distant, almost forgotten. I turned my head, catching her gaze already on me. The unreadable look she wore in the presence of that thing, that nothingness, was gone, replaced with something calmer... more open.

Luna smiled, a subtle curve of her lips that made the tightness in my chest ease. She didn’t say a word, but her presence alone was enough. Just being here, lying beside her, made the weight of everything from the dream seem... bearable. The chaos beyond her chambers could wait. We had this moment, and it felt like all we needed, even if only for now.

I didn’t even know how long we’d been lost in the Dreamscape — our date, the abomination’s intrusion, the desperate flight to the Tree of Harmony — it all blurred together like fragments of a nightmare. But this moment?

This felt solid. Real. Right.

Luna shifted beside me, her wing draping over me in a gentle, loose hold. “You’re safe,” she whispered, her voice like a soft breeze. “We’re safe.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach refused to fully loosen. The creature's presence lingered, a shadow at the edges of my mind. But with her here, I let myself believe her words. Maybe we were safe. For now.

“I’m sorry,” I rasped, my throat dry. “I... I panicked back there.”

Her eyes softened even further, and she shook her head. “No need to apologize, Sebastian. You faced something powerful. Fear is a part of survival. But you didn’t run. You stayed with me.” Her wing tightened slightly, a reassurance. “That is what matters.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing in on me. It wasn’t like the other times. That creature — its words, its presence — it had gotten into my head in a way nothing else ever had. “I just... I didn’t expect to feel so... fucking helpless.”

Her gaze held mine, steady, firm. “You are not alone,” she said softly, but there was an edge to her words — a promise. “We will face whatever comes together.”

A tired smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Together?”

She nodded, and the warmth in her eyes chipped away at the fear still clinging to me. “Together, my love.”

Her words were a balm to the rawness inside me, and I melted into her touch. I shifted, sliding an arm around her, pulling her close until her body was flush against mine. She didn’t resist — she never did — her wings tucked neatly at her sides as the quiet intimacy between us took over. The feel of her fur brushing against my skin, the warmth of her body, made everything else — every threat, every fear — feel distant.

Unreal, even.

I nodded, although a part of me still felt ashamed. I’d faced death before, more than once since arriving on Equis. I’d endured being ripped from my home and thrown into a world that wasn’t mine — in a body that wasn’t mine, survived my first encounter with the thing of nothingness on the Crystal Mountains, nearly died to the maws of a nine-headed hydra. But this… this was different. The terror that creature planted in me was like nothing else. It wasn’t just fear. It was hopelessness. A deep, gnawing sense of despair that I hadn’t felt with the Hydra’s fangs sinking into my shoulder or even when I first crossed paths with those accursed eyes.

Luna’s gentle touch brought me back. She had a way of doing that, capturing my focus, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. I let my focus drift back to this moment, to the feel of her heartbeat in sync with mine.

On her.

For a while, neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. Her mane, still rippling with the magic of the night, brushed softly against my skin as I held her, and for a fleeting time, the world beyond her bedchamber windows ceased to exist. It was peaceful here. Serene.

But as I stared past the open curtains, something caught my eye. The bright blue sky over Canterlot, which had been clear when we slipped into the Dreamscape, had changed. Thick clouds were rolling in — unnatural clouds, swirling, and ominous. But something was off. They weren’t gray. They weren’t white.

They were pink.

I blinked, sitting up slightly. “Luna, look.”

She turned, following my gaze to the window. Her expression shifted from serenity to confusion. “What on Equis—?”

Before she could finish, a thick drop of something brown and sticky hit the glass, followed by another.

We both stared, watching in disbelief as a steady stream of liquid splattered against the window, running down the glass in thick, viscous trails.

I squinted. “Is… is that... chocolate milk?”

Downpour

Aldin’s grave.

The headstone was still fresh and unweathered.

The words etched into it blurred together in my mind, though I’d memorized them hours ago. The evening air was cool, heavy with the promise of rain soon to come, the kind of storm that Canterlot’s weather teams brewed to compensate for lost time. A storm to make up for delays due to the shield spell keeping out opportunities for rain.

It was the kind of storm that Aldin loves… the kind of storm that Aldin loved.

Luna stood silently beside me, her presence a welcomed one. She had stood at my side since Aldin was lowered into the ground. She did not leave. Not even when Celestia and the others were long gone, their condolences trailing behind them in their wake. Luna hadn’t said much, but she didn’t need to. The quiet was enough. Her presence reminded me that I wasn’t entirely alone.

I shifted, the motion drawing my mind to the absence of my right arm. A phantom ache radiated from where it used to be, and I clenched the fingers of my remaining hand instinctively. The wind tugged at my cloak, which I’d draped over my missing arm to vainly attempt to avoid the stares I knew would come. Being human had made me used to stares, but I needed some time to get used to what I lost.

The graveyard was empty now, save for us. The city had already begun to move on. Streets bustled with workers hauling debris, guards patrolled the castle grounds, and ponies of every walk of life doing what they could to try to return their lives back to normal. Life continued, indifferent to what had been lost. To what I had lost.

The quiet here was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city beyond this place. Only the occasional rustling of leaves or the distant clatter of hooves broke it. I welcomed the stillness, though it did little to dull my thoughts.

“Sebastian,” Luna said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet like the first drop of rain of the storm soon to come.

I didn’t respond immediately. My gaze remained fixed on the grave. When I finally spoke, my voice sounded hollow to my own ears. “It’s going to rain soon.”

“Yes,” she said, her tone calm. She shifted slightly, her silver-shod hooves brushing against the grass. “The weather team informed us earlier. They plan to let it fall through the night.”

A long pause stretched between us. I wanted to say something more, to fill the silence, but the words tangled in my throat. The weight of everything — the attempted invasion, the memories, the pain, Aldin — pressed down too heavily.

“You’ve been here for hours,” she said eventually. There was no judgment in her voice, only a quiet sort of concern.

“I know.”

Another pause. Luna didn’t press me, though I could feel her watching, waiting.

I thought of Aldin — his sharp quips, his loyalty, his constant presence at my side. The emptiness left in his absence felt vast and all consuming through our nonexistent empathic link. My chest tightened, the ache spreading as I replayed his final moments over and over in my mind.

“I don’t…” The words came unbidden, rough and unfinished. I swallowed, trying again. “I don’t know what to do without him.”

Luna stepped closer, her shadow mingling with mine in the fading light. “You endure,” she said softly, as though speaking from some deep well of experience. “You carry his memory with you, even when it hurts.”

I closed my remaining eye, the sting behind it threatening to spill over. The memories came in flashes — the way Aldin would perch on my shoulder, his dry commentary cutting through tense moments, his constant presence through our empathic link. Now that link was severed. In his death he took with him a part of myself I wasn’t sure I could reclaim.

The first stars began to dot the sky, faint pinpricks of light against the encroaching clouds. Luna must have raised the moon while I was lost in thought, but I could've sworn she never moved. Celestia must've done it then.

The air shifted, cooler now, the storm inching ever closer.

“I’ll stay as long as you need,” Luna said, her voice steady.

I nodded faintly but said nothing. It was easier this way. Words felt inadequate, brittle in the face of grief.

Time passed, but it was hard to tell as I wasn’t keeping track. The light dimmed further, the sky painted in shades of indigo and slate. Far above, I caught sight of the weather team beginning their work. Pegasi darted across the sky, herding dark clouds into place.

The rain was coming.

I stayed rooted before his grave, awaiting the storm.

The first raindrops came lightly at first, small, cold pinpricks against my skin. The scent of wet earth rose as the droplets struck the grass around Aldin’s grave. I could feel Luna shift beside me, her presence steady, even as the temperature dropped.

The rain picked up quickly, going from a drizzle to a steady downpour in a matter of moments. It quickly soaked through my cloak and clothes, cold enough to bite but not enough to force me to move. Luna didn’t leave either. The rain darkened her coat and matted her mane, which clung to her neck and shoulders in wet tendrils. She didn’t seem to notice or care.

I closed my eye, letting the rain wash over me, and for the first time since she had found me in that hall, I spoke without being prompted. “You know,” I began, my voice rough from disuse, “the first time I really talked with Aldin was during a storm… just like this one.”

Luna’s ears swiveled toward me, but she didn’t interrupt.

“We were in my room at the castle,” I continued, opening my eye to watch the rain fall over Aldin’s grave. “It was raining hard — loud enough that it almost drowned out everything else. I didn’t even know Aldin could talk yet. I was just sitting at my workstation and had just finished inscribing some spells into my book. I had taken to staring out into the haze of that storm. Aldin said something then. Startled me half to death.”

I huffed a humorless laugh at the memory. “I asked him, ‘Hey, best-buddy, you enjoying the storm?’ And he said something like, ‘Enjoying? You could say that. You know how I feel about the rain, Seb.’”

The words caught in my throat for a moment, but I forced them out. “Then he hopped on my head and we stood out on the balcony together. I liked the rain, but I didn’t get it at first. Not really. Not like he did.”

Luna’s voice came softly, tentative. “What changed your mind?”

I tilted my head back, letting the rain streak down my face, mingling with the damp warmth of tears I did not bother to wipe away. “It was what he said after we stood in the rain for a while. He told me, ‘You know, Seb, there’s something about a storm that makes everything feel… realer. Like the rain washes away all the nonsense, leaves only what matters.’”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “That’s when I started to love the rain too. Because of him.”

The storm intensified, the rain coming down harder now, drumming against the ground and grave markers around us. Luna was quiet for a long time, her gaze steady on me. The rain had plastered her mane to her neck and shoulders, and she shivered faintly in the cold. But she didn’t move away.

“He was right,” she said eventually, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the pattering of the rain. “The rain has a way of stripping everything else away, doesn’t it? Leaving behind only what’s true.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak again. My remaining hand clenched at my side as I stared at the grave, the rain soaking me through. The cold didn’t matter. The storm didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the ache in my chest and the memories that I wanted to leave and stay in equal measures.

Luna stepped closer, her wing brushing against my side in a quiet gesture of comfort. I didn’t resist when she unfolded it, draping it around my shoulders. It didn’t make the cold go away, but it made standing there a little less unbearable.

Above us, the sky was dark now, heavy with clouds. Lightning flickered in the distance, followed by a low rumble of thunder that seemed to echo through the earth itself.

The storm settled into a rhythm, each drop a sharp patter against the ground. The weight of Luna's wing over my shoulder was steady and grounding, even as the cold seeped deeper into my bones. Her warmth was faint, but it was there — a quiet reassurance amidst the unrelenting rain.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The sound of the storm filled the silence between us, but it didn’t feel empty. It was as though the rain carried the words neither of us could quite manage to say.

“You’re freezing,” Luna finally said, her voice low but firm. “Sebastian, we must leave before you catch a cold. You have yet to be seen by the medical staff.”

I didn’t reply immediately. My gaze lingered on Aldin’s grave, the carved letters blurred by the rain running down the stone. The thought of leaving felt like an abandonment of sorts, but I knew she was right. I wasn’t in any condition to stay out here, no matter how much I wanted to. The aches in my body weren’t going away, and the cold was settling into my core.

“I will not push,” Luna continued, her wing tightening slightly around me. “But your wounds — what Meridin sealed — need to be examined. You may feel stable, but the damage you sustained cannot be ignored.”

“I know,” I murmured, my voice rasping. I tore my gaze from the grave to look at her, and for the first time, I really noticed the way the rain had changed her appearance. Her mane, usually flowing and ethereal, now clung to her face and neck, heavy and darkened with water. The storm had left her looking raw, almost unguarded. It suited her in a way I hadn’t expected.

“You look beautiful,” I said before I could stop myself.

Luna blinked, clearly surprised. “What?”

“With your hair down,” I clarified, shifting slightly under her wing. “You look… real.” The word felt inadequate, but it was the only one that came to mind. “Beautiful.”

She tilted her head, her eyes softening as she studied me. “You flatter me, even in your state. I would say you are incorrigible, but… thank you.”

A faint smile touched her lips, though it didn’t entirely hide the concern etched into her features. “Come,” she said gently, her wing urging me to move. “Let us leave this place. The storm will not relent, and neither will I until you are tended to.”

I hesitated for just a moment, casting one last glance at Aldin’s grave. The rain dripped from the edge of the stone, pooling in the freshly turned soil. Under my breath I spoke words that I prayed would never have to be spoken again, but I knew better than to believe in that.

“Until we meet again.”

Then, with Luna’s support, I turned and began walking. Each step was heavy, my body protesting the movement after standing still for so long, but I forced myself to keep going. Luna stayed close, her wing still draped over my shoulders as we made our way toward the graveyard’s exit.

The storm showed no signs of letting up. The rain continued to pour, cold and relentless, soaking us both. But there was something almost cleansing about it, as if it were trying to wash away the past few days.

As we passed through the iron gates of the graveyard, I glanced at Luna. Her mane clung to her face, water running down her cheeks like tears she refused to shed. Her resolve was clear in her every step she took, her presence unwavering.

Through the storm, the castle looming ahead, I felt it — a faint sensation, buried so deeply I’d thought it was gone forever.

Not hope, at least not as I remembered it.

But it was a start. It was the glint of what might become hope.

Blue

When Celestia had mentioned that she had enlisted someone to help me prepare for the upcoming summit, I did not expect it to be Prince Blueblood.

The last time I had seen the prince was during the Gala, when he used Rarity as a shield against a flying cake which resulted in Rarity strangling the prince half to death. I had not seen Blueblood since that night — and in all honesty — I forgot he even existed.

The castle gardens were quiet, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze was accompanied by the soft chirping of song birds. I sat at an ornate table set with the expected trappings of tea and light refreshments. This was the exact same table, and exact same place that I once had tea with Celestia, though those thoughts were fleeting as I barely glanced at the table or the tea. My thoughts churned, caught between skepticism and outright disbelief.

Prince Blueblood. Of all ponies. Really?

The memory of the last Gala flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Watching Twilight Sparkle’s friends completely crash the party had been one of the evening’s highlights. That pompous, preening stallion was to be my mentor in diplomacy?

I leaned back, folding my left arm across my chest. My Wizard’s Arm rested atop the table, detached for the moment. Its absence felt strange but not unwelcome. I’d grown used to constantly wearing the prosthetic, though it served as an uncomfortable reminder of Chrysalis and the price I’d paid.

A lot of things reminded me of that day.

The sharp clink of hooves on the garden’s stone path drew my attention. I turned to see a pristine white unicorn stallion approaching, his blonde mane perfectly coiffed and his attire immaculate. He wore a tailored royal blue waistcoat with gold embroidery, the ensemble practically screaming wealth and vanity.

Prince Blueblood.

His posture was as flawless as his attire, his nose tilted upward as if the very air offended him. When his gaze fell on me, he paused, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.

His expression shifted into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, you must be the infamous Consort of the Moon,” his voice was as polished as his appearance. “Sebastian, was it?”

I raised an eyebrow, deliberately not standing. “Prince Blueblood,” I said evenly, nodding in greeting.

He sniffed, his expression one of measured disdain. “I see Auntie Celestia was not exaggerating about your lack of decorum. No matter; I am accustomed to managing… raw material.”

I bit back the first response that came to mind. Luna’s voice echoed in my head. She had asked me to be patient with this nephew of hers.

Blueblood gestured to the seat across from me with an overly dramatic flourish. “May I?”

“By all means,” I replied with a gesture for him to sit across from me. “Who am I to deny you a seat?”

He seated himself with an exaggerated level of grace, his every movement calculated for maximum elegance. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Blueblood inspected the tea set with a critical eye, before finally pouring himself a cup.

“It is both my honor and my burden,” he began, his tone dripping with self-importance, “to impart upon you the fine art of diplomacy. A skill, I might add, that requires subtlety, tact, and a certain… finesse that I fear you may lack.”

“Good to know where I stand,” I said dryly, folding my left arm across my chest again.

He waved a hoof dismissively. “Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I relish a challenge. And you, my dear fellow, are undoubtedly a challenge.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at his audacity. “And what, exactly, will this ‘challenge’ entail?”

Blueblood sipped at his tea, his expression unchanging. “For a start, we will address your demeanor. Diplomacy is an art form. One that requires a delicate balance between strength and charm. It is paramount that you learn to command a room without raising your voice. With diplomacy you must bend others to your will with words alone.”

“And you think you can teach me that?”

He set his cup down with an audible clink, fixing me with a look that might have been intimidating if not for its theatricality. “I am Prince Blueblood, heir to one of the most illustrious lineages in Equestria — no, in all of Equis. In the matters of diplomacy, there are no finer tutors in the realm.”

I met his gaze evenly. “Alright, Prince. Teach me your ways.”

Blueblood’s lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. “Excellent. We shall start with the basics. Tell me, Sebastian, what is the first rule of diplomacy?”

I shrugged. “Don’t insult the other party?”

“Close,” he said, steepling his hooves. “The first rule is to listen. Only by understanding your adversary — or ally — can you hope to sway them.”

He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning almost conspiratorial. “Now, let us see if you can manage even that.”

And so, my first lesson in diplomacy began, under the tutelage of the most insufferable prince in Equestria.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The first week was an exercise in restraint.

Blueblood’s lessons began each morning with the same pompous flourish: a self-important proclamation of the day’s topic, often including a backhanded comment about my ‘rough edges.’ Whether we were seated in the gardens or pacing through one of the castle's lavish meeting chambers, his voice carried the same over the top theatrical lilt, as though he were addressing an audience of admirers rather than a single reluctant student.

"You must understand, Sebastian," he said on the third day, gesturing with a gold-tipped cane he’d just recently taken to carrying for dramatic effect, "diplomacy is as much about appearance as it is about words. A diplomat who slouches might as well grovel."

"Got it," I replied, adjusting my posture on the overly lavish chair. "Stand straight, don’t grovel. Life-changing advice."

He shot me a withering look, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. "Sarcasm, Sebastian, is a poor substitute for wit. Remember that."

I gave him the bird.

He looked confused by the gesture, and deigned to ignore it.

The second week introduced practical exercises, which, to Blueblood’s apparent delight, provided ample opportunity for further critique.

In one session, he orchestrated a mock negotiation, casting himself as a cunning noble entangled in a fictional land dispute. His portrayal was flawless, gliding effortlessly between syrupy persuasion and cutting dismissals. When it came time for my rebuttal, he interrupted me with a sharp crack of his cane against the floor.

"No, no, no! Your tone is all wrong," he announced with a theatrical sigh, his expression a mix of irritation and condescension. "You’re addressing a dignitary, not a tavern thug. Try again — with some sophistication, if you please."

"Of course, sophistication," I echoed, my tone deliberately neutral as I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Got it."

By the session's end, my patience with Blueblood was wearing thin. Despite my irritation, Blueblood seemed as invigorated as if he’d spent the day at a spa.

He was enjoying this, I thought, suppressing a groan. Probably far more than he was letting on.

By the middle of the second week, cracks had begun to form in his polished veneer. During an especially tedious discussion on the interpretation of body language, I caught him unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.

"Am I boring you, Prince?" I asked, unable to hide my amusement.

He straightened immediately, his expression indignant. "Not at all! I was merely… contemplating your progress. You’ve improved — marginally."

"Marginally? Oh my, such high praise," I replied with a smirk.

He didn’t respond immediately. He instead adjusted the lapels of his jacket. When he finally spoke, his tone was quieter, nearly begrudging. "You’re not as hopeless as I once feared."

"From you, I’ll take that as the highest of praises."

His lips twitched into something resembling a genuine smile, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

By the end of those two weeks our dynamic shifted slightly. Blueblood’s critiques, while still biting, were less frequent, and I found myself begrudgingly respecting his mastery of the craft. He, in turn, seemed to be warming to the challenge of shaping me into something resembling a diplomat.

As we wrapped up one of our last sessions that week, Blueblood leaned back in his chair, studying me with a contemplative expression.

"You know," he said, swirling the tea in his cup, "you have potential, Sebastian. Rough, unpolished, and maddeningly stubborn potential, but potential nonetheless."

"Thanks, I think," I replied, meeting his gaze.

He set his cup down, his expression uncharacteristically earnest. "The next two weeks will test your patience. But if you truly wish to represent Auntie Luna — and by extension, Equestria — you must persevere. Sebastian, diplomacy is a skill that demands constant refinement."

I nodded, taking his words to heart despite his usual flair for dramatics. "Then let’s see what the next week has in store."

His smile returned, this time with a hint of mischief. "Oh, you’ll see, Sebastian. You’ll see."

And so, as the second week drew to a close, I found myself strangely anticipating what the insufferable prince had planned next.

The third week began with an air of subdued tension. Blueblood, true to his theatrical nature, had declared it the ‘Week of Refinement.’ He greeted me in an empty meeting room with a sweeping bow and a knowing smirk.

"This week we will look at the principles of persuasion and manipulation in detail. Subtlety, dear Sebastian, is the key to shifting the balance in your favor without your adversary even noticing it.” He produced a folder full of documents, each document containing fictitious scenarios of diplomatic crises: trade disputes and their effects, border conflicts and internal rebellions. "Your task," he said, "is to come up with a solution to each problem and present it to me as though I were a foreign dignitary."

I skimmed the first scenario — a tariff disagreement between two neighboring regions. “Let me guess,” I said, glancing up at him. “You’ll be playing the dignitary?”

“Who else?” he replied with a flourish, settling into his chair as though it were a throne.

The exercises were grueling, not because of their complexity, but because of Blueblood’s relentless criticism. He interrupted often, pointing out flaws in my phrasing or demeanor. “No, no, no!” he exclaimed at one point, slapping the armrest of his chair. “You cannot simply demand compliance. Diplomacy is about guiding others to believe they want to agree with you. Try again.”

It was infuriating, yet by the end of the week, I began to see the method in his madness. His interruptions grew less frequent, his critiques more constructive. I even caught him nodding approvingly during one particularly heated exchange.

“You’re learning,” he said grudgingly after I concluded a mock negotiation. “Slowly, but you are learning.”

The fourth week brought a shift in focus. Blueblood introduced me to the art of reading a room. We spent hours in the castle’s great hall, observing the comings and goings of petitioners and nobles.

“Watch him,” Blueblood whispered, nodding toward a well-dressed stallion speaking with a group near the fountain. “Note how he keeps glancing at the exit. He’s eager to leave but doesn’t wish to appear rude.”

I followed his gaze, noting the subtle signs Blueblood had pointed out. “And her?” I asked, gesturing toward a mare who was gesturing animatedly with her wings.

“Ah, she’s dominating the conversation,” Blueblood replied. “Notice how the others lean slightly away? They’re intimidated.”

I was surprised by how engaging the lessons were, and I actually appreciate Blueblood’s take on things. Even still, his arrogance was pretty grating, but it was tempered by a genuine passion and skill for his craft.

As the days passed, our dynamic shifted further. Blueblood’s barbs became less pointed, his praise more frequent. I, in turn, began to see past his pompous exterior, recognizing the keen intellect and unwavering dedication to both Equestria, and his craft.

By the end of the month, we had fallen into an easy rhythm. I now find myself laughing more often than not at his dramatic proclamations, even if Blueblood’s ego is as overblown as ever. He seemed to relish the challenge of pushing me to my limits, and I always did enjoy a challenge.

On the final evening of my training, Blueblood invited me to join him on the castle’s west balcony. A bottle of fine wine and two glasses awaited us, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the city below.

“This,” he said, pouring the wine with practiced elegance, “is a momentous occasion. You’ve endured my tutelage and emerged… tolerable.”

“There’s that high praise again,” I said, smirking as I accepted the glass he offered. “If you’re not careful the other nobles might think you may like this ‘barbarian’.”

He smirked, and raised his own glass. His expression was uncharacteristically at ease. “To progress, and to the art of diplomacy.”

We clinked glasses, the sound ringing softly in the evening air.

Blueblood took a long sip of his wine, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where the first stars began to peek through the darkening sky. I leaned against the balcony railing, swirling the wine in my glass with my silver hand. The silence between us was comfortable, the kind that comes from two people who had sparred verbally enough to earn a mutual respect.

Still, there was something I’d been meaning to ask him. And considering this was our last scheduled evening of training, it felt like the right time.

“Blueblood,” I began, breaking the quiet.

“Yes?” he replied, not bothering to look away from the horizon.

“Why did you use Rarity as a shield against that cake?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Blueblood didn’t react at first, continuing to gaze out at the fading sunlight. Then, he chuckled, a low, sardonic sound that carried none of the usual grandeur in his tone.

“Ah, that,” he said, setting his glass down on the railing. “I wondered when someone would bring that up again.”

“I’ve been curious,” I admitted after draining some of my own wine. “It’s not every day you see a noble shove someone else into the line of fire, especially not someone like Rarity.”

Blueblood’s expression turned wry, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “You assume, of course, that my actions were driven by cowardice or selfishness.”

“Well… kinda, yeah,” I said bluntly.

That earned a bark of laughter from him.

“Fair enough,” he said, shaking his head. “But let me enlighten you, Sebastian. Rarity didn’t care about me. She cared about what I represented. A prince. Prestige. Influence. She didn’t see me. She saw a golden opportunity to elevate her own status. And she was quite determined to secure it.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at his candor. “So you’re saying she deserved it?”

“Not quite,” he replied, his tone lighter now. “Deserved is a strong word. Let’s just say I gave her an honest glimpse of what life with me would truly be like. It was a valuable lesson, one that she took to heart, judging by the delightful strangling that followed.”

Despite myself, I chuckled. “You’re really something, Blueblood.”

“Why, thank you,” he said, inclining his head as though I’d paid him the highest compliment. “But do you see my point? She wasn’t interested in me. She wanted the title. The power. The fairy tale. And I am under no obligation to humor those who see me as nothing more than a trophy.”

I considered his words, nodding slowly. “You might be an ass, but you’re not wrong.”

“An ass, perhaps,” he said with a smirk, “but a principled ass.”

We lapsed into silence again, the wine flowing as Celestia’s sun disappeared completely, leaving the sky awash in shades of deep indigo.

Blueblood took back up his wine, his gaze turned thoughtful as Luna’s moon rose, casting its silver glow over the city.

“Sebastian,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically earnest, “there’s something you should know.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

Blueblood took a measured sip of his wine, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the last rays of sunlight gave way to Luna’s ascending moon. When he spoke, his tone was deliberate, carrying the weight of what he intended to convey.

“Sebastian,” he began again, setting his glass down and folding his hooves atop the railing. “You are the consort to the Goddess of the Moon. That title alone places you in a league far above any of Equestria’s nobles. But it is not just the title that has them watching.”

I leaned back in my chair, swirling the wine in my glass. “This is about more than just the summit or diplomacy, isn’t it?”

He inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Astute. Yes, this is about perception, power, and pecking order. Let me explain.”

He stood, pacing a few steps toward the railing, his figure silhouetted against the rising moonlight. “You died, Sebastian. Died. And resurrected yourself. Whether that’s the truth or some embellished tale, it hardly matters. The world believes it, and that belief is power. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you subdued a changeling queen — Chrysalis herself. Do you have any idea what that makes you in their eyes?”

“A walking target?” I offered dryly, taking a sip of the wine.

Blueblood chuckled, a low, rich sound. “Partially correct. But more than that, it makes you second only to alicorns. A mortal who has not only survived the impossible but triumphed against it. That terrifies them. And when the nobles are terrified, they scheme.”

I arched an eyebrow. “They’ve been quiet enough so far.”

“Because they don’t yet know what to do with you,” he countered, turning to face me fully. “At first, they left you alone because you were an unknown quantity — and because they’re scared of Auntie Luna. Her reputation extends to you, as her consort. But now, you’re back on your feet, and soon you’ll be attending one of the most significant political events of our time. They will see this as their opportunity.”

“To do what? Use me? Undermine me?”

Blueblood’s expression hardened, his usual air of arrogance replaced by something sharper. “Both. You must understand, Sebastian, that your rise has been meteoric. Unprecedented. To the established order, you’re a disruptor, a wildcard. Some will seek to curry favor, hoping to ride your coattails to greater power. Others will see you as a threat to their influence and will look for ways to diminish you — or worse.”

I set my now empty glass down, a single silversheen finger tracing the rim of the glass. “So what’s your advice?”

Blueblood smirked, though it lacked his usual condescension. “Firstly, know your worth. You are not some pawn to be moved on their board. You are a player in your own right, and they must be made to see that. Secondly, understand the game they play. Diplomacy, my dear barbarian, is war by another name. It is fought with words, alliances, and leverage. You must be prepared to counter their moves before they make them.”

“And lastly?”

He stepped closer, his gaze steady and unflinching. “Do not underestimate them. These nobles may not wield swords or magic, but their weapons are no less dangerous. They have spent generations honing their craft, and they will exploit any weakness they perceive. Be vigilant, Sebastian. Always.”

I nodded slowly, his words settling over me like a weight. “You sound like you’re preparing me for battle.”

“In a sense, I am,” he replied, his smirk returning. “But don’t worry, I’ve trained you well. You’ll manage to stumble through without embarrassing us too badly.”

I chuckled, raising my glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

We refilled our glasses, then we clinked them again. For a moment, we stood watching as the moon climbed higher, its silvery light bathing the castle grounds.

“Blueblood,” I said after a while, my tone quieter, “why are you telling me all this? You didn’t have to.”

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Because, Sebastian, despite your flaws — and they are numerous — you’re not entirely insufferable. And because you’re family now, whether you like it or not. Luna chose you, and that means you matter to us.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. Before I could respond, he drained the last of his wine and set the glass down with a flourish.

“Now,” he said, his usual arrogance returning, “shall we adjourn before I say something sentimental? I have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

I laughed, following him back inside. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish that, would we?”

As we stepped into the warm glow of the castle corridors, I couldn’t help but let the earlier conversation tumble through my mind. One detail stuck out, though, refusing to let me move on. Blueblood’s casual mention of ‘delightful strangling’ nagged at me like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

“So,” I began as I slid my hands into my coat pockets, “about that ‘delightful strangling’.”

Blueblood paused mid-stride, his shoulders stiffening ever so slightly before he turned to face me. His expression was carefully neutral, but I caught the faintest flicker of… was that embarrassment?

“Ah, yes,” he said smoothly, his tone as light as if I’d asked him about the weather. “What of it?”

“Well,” I said, leaning against the wall, “it’s not exactly a phrase you hear every day. Care to elaborate?”

He gave me a thin smile, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Not particularly.”

I raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a grin. “Come on. You can’t just drop something like that and not explain it. Delightful strangling? Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Sebastian,” he said, his voice dripping with mock patience, “there are some things that are better left to the imagination. This, I assure you, is one of them.”

“Oh, I disagree,” I said, crossing my silver arm over my flesh one. “I think a little clarity would go a long way here. You’ve got me picturing all kinds of things, and none of them are—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, holding up a hoof. “Whatever your imagination is conjuring, I insist you put it back where it came from.”

I smirked, relishing his discomfort. “You’re not exactly helping your case, you know.”

Blueblood sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even bother with you?”

“Because I’m family now,” I said, grinning wider. “And because you think I’m tolerable, remember?”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Then, with a flourish, he straightened his collar and adjusted his posture.

“Well, this has been… enlightening,” he said, his tone breezy as he began walking again. “But alas, I have pressing matters to attend to. Far too pressing to continue indulging your absurd curiosity.”

I kept pace beside him, my tone teasing. “You know, dodging the question only makes it more suspicious.”

His glare could have frozen the sun. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”

But I couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Oh, come now — ‘Uncle Sebastian’ has a nice ring to it. Goodnight, Nephew.”

He didn’t dignify me with a response. Instead, he disappeared around the corner, his coattails flaring behind him like a dramatic exit on a theater stage.

I lingered for a moment, a grin tugging at my lips. “Absolutely priceless,” I muttered, shaking my head. “That one’s never going to get old.”

As I walked toward the throne room for Night Court, I made a note to bring it up again — preferably at the most inconvenient moment possible.

After all, that’s what family is for, isn’t it?

Hilam

Author's Note

Touched this one up too. The plot remains the same, but readability has been improved.

12/13/2024

Hilam

Thanks to some detailed directions provided by some helpful guards, I made my way to the library in good time. As it turns out, they have more to offer than just their best attempts at giving an imposing expression.

Navigating down a few hallways, I reached the library.

It was a surprisingly cozy library, with enough space and furnishing for maybe half a dozen ponies to comfortably sit and read at once. Bookshelves lined each wall, towering up to the ceiling, which easily reached twenty feet in height. A fireplace stood nearby, logs and tinder set neatly near it waiting for a colder period of time. The only connection to the outside world was a small window adjacent to the solitary table in the room. A chest was placed besides the table filled with blank scrolls, and pens and quills with ink wells.

The most surprising part about the place was that it was empty.

"Huh, we beat Princess Luna. What should we do to pass the time, best-buddy?" I asked Aldin.

Aldin surveyed the room from his perch on my shoulder before fluttering up to a ledge on one of the bookshelves. There, he settled in for a nap, and was fast asleep in moments.

"You're right! Let's see if we can find any interesting books while we wait."

Fortunately, all the books were written in common… or is it English? Or has my perception of language been warped somehow?

Eh, potato, potato.

Not wanting to get ahead of whatever was planned for the night, I decided against actually delving into any text until Luna arrived. Instead, I simply read some of the titles of different books that caught my eye.

“Oh god. ‘Gallop Through Geography’, ‘Trot Through Time’,” A snicker escaped me as I read the different titles. “No… ‘Bridle Gossip’!”

I had to stop reading titles before I started crying from laughter. Whoever chose these titles surely must have many funny bones in them. Outside, rain pattered against the window, creating a rather soothing ambiance.

After taking a moment to calm down, I found myself whispering, "Ah, this is some good reading weather."

"I agree," came a voice from behind me.

I let out a totally manly noise and jumped to my feet, only to find Princess Luna standing behind me with a mischievous grin. She was clearly amused by my reaction.

"You! How did you sneak up on me? You have hooves! The stone floor is loud as hell!" I exclaimed, feeling a bit embarrassed by my own surprise. "And where did your bruise go? I still have mine from those damned balls."

Luna seemed to be enjoying my reaction. She smirked and nodded as she replied with each point. "Trade secret. Alicorn biology."

"Fine, keep your secrets," I said while relaxing back into my chair. I gestured toward the bookshelves. "What will we be learning today, Princess?"

Luna’s expression softened slightly. "Sebastian, if you're going to be my apprentice, I must insist that you drop the 'Princess' title when addressing me. Just call me Luna."

I hesitated a moment before nodding. "Alright then... Luna. So, what's on the agenda for tonight?"

Luna gave a small, approving nod. "Tonight, we will study the history of Equestria, focusing on the civil war between my sister and Nightmare Moon up to modern times. Much has changed in my absence, and we’ll need to familiarize ourselves with these events."

"Sounds like a plan," I said, curious about what we'd uncover. Couldn’t be that bad.

Luna’s horn glowed, and a large tome floated off a shelve, landing softly on the table before us. "This volume chronicles the civil war and the years following it. Let’s begin."

As she opened the book, Luna’s voice took on a more somber tone. "The account begins with the onset of the civil war. It was a time of great strife and sorrow."

I leaned in, following along as she read. The text described the initial conflicts, the divisions among the populace, and the early battles. As we read, Luna’s expression grew increasingly troubled.

She paused, her eyes narrowing at a passage describing a particularly brutal battle. "I remember this one well. It… is difficult to read."

I could sense her agitation growing. "We can stop if you want. We can always pick this up at a later date." I offered, concerned by the tension that had crept into her voice.

Luna took a deep breath, then shook her head. "No. I’m fine. Please, continue reading for me, Sebastian.”

I took over, reading aloud about the major events of the war, the strategies employed by both sides, and the eventual turning points. Luna’s agitation became more pronounced with each word, with each turned page. Finally, I reached a section detailing the estimated total casualties.

I hesitated, glancing at Luna. I tried putting myself into her shoes. I tried imagining being the reason for this much death and destruction. But I couldn’t wrap my head around it. It was all just statistics to me, some numbers on pieces of paper, nothing more. I had no faces to put to the numbers, but Luna had been there. She was there to see the bodies piled high. To her they weren’t just numbers, but rather a tally of her sins.

I began to close the book, but I couldn’t. Luna had reached across the table and placed a hoof to the page, holding it open. Looking up, I matched her steely gaze with my own.

“Please, keep reading.” There was something akin to desperation in her voice. How could I say no?

I never took my eyes from hers, opting to speak entirely from memory. “The estimated minimum casualties for the civil war are... 45,000 killed in action, 80,000 wounded, and 75,000 missing.”

Luna seemed to deflate and retreat into herself. Her eyes turned distant and hollow before the enormity of the numbers. A silence spawned that stretched and uncomfortably filled the space between us.

"Luna, are you okay?" I asked softly, my concern growing with each passing second of silence.

Luna didn’t respond immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was grim, as though the words could not come so easily. "So many..."

I glanced down at the book, unsure of what exactly to say. “It was war. War is never clean.”

Luna shook her head slowly, her expression haunted. "I must speak with my sister," she spoke quickly, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

As she rose and left the library, I watched her go. A profound sense of unease curled within me. The history we had read together was more than just a series of events — it was a testament to the pain and loss that had scarred Equestria’s past, and my mentor was the primary cause for a significant amount of it.

I sat there for a moment, simply staring down at the book. I wasn’t reading anything in particular, and yet a single word stood out to me, 'thestrals'. It rang no bells, and had only just come up in the text as a footnote of sorts. No explanation, or context provided. Simply the word used in reference to a prior event that was not mentioned in this book. Strange.

I glanced up and caught Aldin watching me from his nap spot, concern radiating through our link. “Yeah, best-buddy,” I murmured, offering him a small smile. “I hate seeing people sad too.”

The rain outside persisted, its once-gentle cadence deepening into a wistful melody that matched the evening’s mood.

Deciding it was time for a distraction, I rummaged through the nearby chest and pulled out a few empty scrolls. Placing them on the desk alongside my spellbook, I flipped to the section containing first-level spells.

“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, best-buddy. Perfect time for a little scroll scribing,” I said, glancing toward Aldin.

The quiet work of crafting scrolls became its own reward. Each spell inscribed deepened my understanding of magic, the repetitive precision calming my thoughts.

By the time Celestia and Luna brought forth the dawn, two completed scrolls now rested on the desk. The rain had stopped, but the night’s quiet accomplishments remained.

Standing up, I scooped the pair of scrolls into a pouch and had myself a well-earned stretch. I glanced at Aldin and beckoned him over with a wave. “Come on, best-buddy, let's go jump off our balcony.”

Aldin perched comfortably on my right shoulder as we made our way back to our room. Along the corridor, we passed a few guards in gold, including a familiar face — Shining Armor.

“Morning, Sebastian,” he said, falling into step beside me. “What are you up to this morning?”

“Just wrapped up some scroll scribing,” I replied. “Figured I’d test one out — a Feather Fall scroll. Want to watch?”

Shining’s ears perked with interest. “Sure, I’ve got a bit of time. What does Feather Fall do?”

“It’s better if I show you. Follow me.”

When we arrived at my room, Aldin flitted to his nest without so much as a second glance. I made my way to the balcony, and stepped out into the morning air. Below, the streets stretched empty, with no pegasi in sight. A perfect stage for a demonstration.

“Sebastian, what—” Shining started, but I interrupted him by sitting on the railing of the balcony and holding up my index finger.

“Watch closely! If I fuck this up, I will only be able to show you this one time.” I then promptly leaned back before I could second guess myself, and allowed gravity to grab ahold of me.

I began plummeting towards the stone walkway below.

“What the buck! Sebastian!”

As the wind rushed around me, I reached the midpoint of my descent and invoked the words of power. The magic turned my freefall into a gentle glide, and I floated down to the ground laughing maniacally all the way. I could see why pegasi enjoy flight so much, albeit it’s probably more fun when it’s more than just magically controlled falling.

Shining shouted something from the balcony, but I was too caught up in my joyous laughter to make out his words. My back touched the ground and my laughter went on and on.

The city gradually stirred to life around me, echoing with the sounds of ponies beginning their day. Aldin landed on my chest, lightly tapping my forehead with a talon, as if urging me to rise from the ground. I obliged.

As I stood up, Shining Armor hurried around a nearby corner, followed closely by two solar guards carrying a stretcher between them.

“That was Feather Fall in action!” I exclaimed, trying to catch my breath.

He came to a sudden stop and looked me over with a concerned expression. “Why — in Celestia’s name — would you do that without telling me?”

I offered a weak shrug, and furrowed my brows. Why did I do that? “Sorry, I was worried I might hesitate if I talked about it beforehand.”

He looked like he wanted to scold me but held back. “Just don’t pull stunts like that out of the blue, alright? I don’t want to have to explain to everypony in Canterlot that you’re just testing a spell.”

“Deal.”

“Good.” Shining rubbed the ridge of his nose as he turned to his guards. “False alarm everypony! You can put the stretcher away.”

The pair grumbled in annoyance as they turned to put up the unneeded stretcher. Watching them go, I felt my stomach announce its hunger. I had not eaten in quite a few hours.

“I’m going to grab some breakfast. Want to come?” I offered.

He tapped his helmet. “No can do. Still on duty.”

“Ah, fair enough. Catch you later, Shining,” I replied with a friendly wave, already heading toward the castle’s cafeteria. “I’ll grab some breakfast before hitting the hay! Err — in the sleeping kind of way!”

Shining’s words were almost inaudible as I rounded a corner, “What other way is there to hit the hay?”

Aldin and I walked the halls of the castle. With a little help from a few of the castle’s staff, we found our way to the cafeteria doors in short order.

“This should be it,” I said to Aldin.

He blinked back at me, oozing owlish wisdom.

I pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the castle cafeteria, my curiosity was piqued as I stepped into the room. An aroma of numerous freshly baked pastries alongside a variety of other savory dishes filled the air. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach growl in hunger.

Surprisingly spacious and filled with long tables, the cafeteria was chalk full of various ponies that worked under the crown, each one enjoying their breakfast. As we made our way through the place, I couldn’t help but notice the curious glances and whispered words that followed in my wake. It would appear being the only human on the planet had its downsides. Doing my best to ignore the obvious stares and poorly hidden whispers, I made my way to the food line.

Aldin looked around from his perch on my shoulder as I took stock of the food set before us. There was an impressive array of food set out before us: fresh spiced breads, steamed vegetables, a few salads, and even some curious looking dishes I couldn't quite identify. My stomach growled again, urging me to hurry up so that I could reach the part where I feed it.

I grabbed a tray and started piling it high with anything that caught my eye. A few scoops of steamed vegetables here, and a couple of pastries there, soon found their home on my tray, and soon they'd find a better home in my belly. As I reached the end of the line, I spotted a bushel of apples. Absent-mindedly, I grabbed two and placed them on my tray.

"Apples, really?" I asked myself with a disbelieving shake of my head. Back on Earth, I couldn't stand them, but for some reason, they appeared far more appealing here.

I found an empty spot at one of the tables and sat down. Aldin hopped off my shoulder and settled next to me, eyeing my food with interest. After giving him an offering of roasted broccoli to play with, I took a bite of the sole remaining broccoli and sighed contentedly. The food here was amazing, far better than anything I had back on Earth.

But then again, my diet back on Earth consisted mainly of stove top ramen, fast food, and spaghetti. Perhaps, I am not the best of judges for what counts as good food.

As I ate, I couldn't help but ponder this strange new existence I found myself in. Everything on Equis was somehow very much different, while oddly very much familiar. The ponies around me were friendly enough, but their curious looks reminded me that I was indeed an anomaly.

I finished my meal and leaned back. I basked in the feeling of a good meal freshly eaten. I picked up one of the apples and studied it for a moment. What the hell? Why not give it a shot before continuing to hate the accursed fruit? I took a bite. The flavor was crisp and sweet, much better than any apple I had ever tasted on Earth, but the skin still bothered me. I grimaced and took the time to peel it off, tossing the skin to the tray before finishing the rest of the apple.

With a full stomach and two apples saved for later, I made my way back to my room. The halls were bustling with activity now, the castle gearing up for daytime activities. At this hour, the castle was practically the polar opposite of its nighttime hours.

As I walked, I thought about my encounter with Shining Armor earlier. Why didn’t I tell Shining Armor before jumping? A pit of guilt formed in my stomach. This kind of behavior wasn't typical of me.

And apples... I never used to like apples back on Earth, but for some reason, I couldn’t resist their allure here. I grabbed them from the cafeteria without a thought! I must admit that they tasted better than any Earth apples I've tried in the past, but I still despised their accursed skin, so logically speaking my taste buds haven’t changed too much. Have they?

When I got into bed that morning, the questions endlessly swirled around in my head. Deciding to let sleep help me with this strangeness, I stamped out the questions to allow sleep’s gentle embrace to wrap around me. The swirling questions were soothed by the salve of dreams.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Darkness enveloped me, pierced only by the faint glow of a magic circle.

Powdered cold iron lined the circle’s edges. A soft hum was audible, and a sort of spectral shimmer was being emitted. The room echoed with dissonant chanting performed by red-robed figures that fumbled through their incantations.

I was bound inside the circle of cold iron, wrists and ankles tightly secured in chains to a stone slab. Positioned such that kneeling was the only position I could maintain. Panic gripped at me as I instinctively struggled against the iron of my bonds, my mind raced to make sense of the absurdity of the situation I now found myself in. This could not possibly be real! But the fear and the resistance from my bindings felt all too genuine, the abyssal chanting a little too understandable for my liking.

Within the circle, I could make out two faces from the shadows. My parents. No, not my parents, Meridin’s parents. The significance of the nightmare reached me. This was Meridin's childhood, a moment of significance from his backstory that I had written so many years ago.

Now it was reality.

And now, I am very much screwed.

Mother strained in vain against her chains, her desperate pleas drowned by the discordant chants of the cultists. My father stood resolute in spite of his bindings. Meanwhile, I did everything I could to keep from panicking.

"Nice décor you've got here. Did you hire an interior designer, or is the whole 'sacrificial dungeon' vibe all natural talent?" I quipped, trying — and failing — to mask my growing terror with my poor attempt at humor.

The cultists deigned to ignore me, and their chants grew louder and more frantic. At the center of the circle, a swirling vortex of darkness began to form, pulsating with malevolent energy that some instinctive part of me knew to be from the Abyss. I recognized the shape forming from the darkness.

"Vrock," I muttered, feeling a chill run down my spine. “Why are you dumb asses calling a vrock?!”

Desperation clawed at me. "Hey, come on guys, there's got to be a better way to spend a night! Maybe a movie? Pizza?" I joked weakly, hoping against hope that something would change the inevitable.

One of the cultists, a young woman with wide, fearful eyes hesitated. Abyssal words, half spoken, tumbled from her shaking lips as she looked down at me, then at the swirling vortex, and back again. She broke rank from her fellow cultists and rushed toward me, fumbling at my restraints.

"We don't have to do this!" she whispered urgently. "We can stop this! There’s still time!"

Hope flared in my chest. "Thank you! Finally, someone with some sense!"

But the other cultists quickly overpowered her, dragging her away into the darkness beyond my vision. During that struggle, the cold iron that made up the circle was disturbed by a stray limb, breaking the magical circle’s containment.

It looks like there is no way to avoid this inevitability.

The vrock demon roared in glee as it was fully called into this plane, its wings unfurling as it stepped past my parents and I, and over the now broken-circle.

Panic spread through the room like wildfire. The demon turned its red, hate-filled eyes on the now fleeing cultists, tearing into them with a savage delight that was as captivating to witness as it was disturbing. Blood sprayed across the stone walls, and screams filled the air as the vrock butchered everything living in its path.

"Not good. Very, very not good," I muttered, any hints of my earlier bravado cast away and forgotten. I fought uselessly against my chains, but they refused to yield. “If I wake from this shit I will never write another edgy character ever again! Only happy ones with loving families and other sappy shit like that!”

The vrock's slaughter of robed cultists was complete, and it turned its gaze to us.

My father placed himself between my mother and I, and the demon. For his bravery he was rewarded with his head being relieved from its shoulders. My mother quickly followed father into the Boneyard via a savage spine shattering bite.

My fight or flight response kicked in, and I chose the third option: I froze.

The demon towered over me, I craned my neck back to see its face. It smiled down at me and with a casual stomp of a taloned foot, it cut through the links of my chains with profane ease.

For a brief moment I felt hope. For a moment, I had thought that perhaps it would spare me. He grabbed me and lifted me up so that I could be at his eye level, he held me aloft like one would a ragdoll.

"You are the last, little worm. I hear that humans your age enjoy games, so let us play one! If you survive this, I will even let you crawl away like the worm you are," it hissed into my mind, a voice more akin to poison than anything else.

I nodded, too terrified to speak.

The demon laughed, a horrible, grating sound, “I like your spirit, worm! Now hold still, I do not want you to bleed out too fast!”

It raised its clawed hand and sank its claws into my chest. Then it pulled its hand diagonally across my torso, from left shoulder to right hip. Agony exploded through me, and I screamed.

The world fell away into darkness and the echoing laughter of the demon.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

I jolted awake clutching at my left shoulder. I was gasping for breath with my body drenched in sweat and fear. The terror of the nightmare lingered even as I woke, but I forced myself to move through it. I stumbled to the bathroom mirror and stripped off my robes, needing to see.

There, across my torso, was the scar — three long, diagonal marks that perfectly matched the wound the vrock had given me in the nightmare. Or would it be more accurate to say the past?

I stared at my reflection, heart pounding in my ears. I could still feel those claws ripping through me. They ached with phantom pains. The body remembers.

A sigh escaped me as Aldin landed gently on my shoulder, rubbing his head against my cheek. Concern radiated through our link.

"Just a bad dream. I'm fine," I lied, trying to sound convincing. Truthfully, I was terrified. "Just a dream. Just a dream."

Splashing my face with some sink water, I glared at my own reflection. “Get it together!”

Aldin tapped me, drawing my attention to the balcony. The sun was already setting. “Damnit! Luna is going to skin me like an apple if I’m late!”

Hastily, I threw on some clothes, and booked it towards the library. As I hurried through the halls, I threw quick waves at the guards and castle staff who were busying themselves with their various tasks for the evening. Some of them even returned the gesture.

Bursting into the library, I found Luna already waiting. She glanced up with a hint of irritation. "Nice of you both to join me. I thought I’d be going at it alone tonight. Turns out jumping off balconies is not nearly as tiring as I originally thought."

Her words carried a sharp edge to them. Rubbing the back of my head, I found myself unable to meet her gaze. "Sorry! I… I don’t know what came over me."

She let me squirm under her scrutiny for a moment longer before sighing. "Sebastian, I don’t like being told that my apprentice jumped off a balcony."

I gathered my courage and met her eyes. "I’m sorry. It won’t happen again."

She scrutinized me for a minute before nodding. "Good. Now, tonight’s focus will be on your magic. You have more understanding of how your magic works than I do. How do you think we should proceed?"

Rubbing my thumb along a still burning ear, I considered our options. "Scribing spells to scrolls helped me remember some of the less commonly used arcane methods of spellcraft. I should be able to create and recreate spells from scratch, which should help me gain a greater understanding and experience with my magic. I’m not sure how far it will take us, or how long it will take to reach higher tiers of magic. But, it is a start!"

Luna nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps it’s best to start with recreating a simple spell that you are familiar with."

Snapping my fingers and taking up a studious tone, I began explaining the first spell that came to mind. "The Keep Watch spell. It's a simple spell that allows those under its effect to stay awake for eight hours without feeling any fatigue while still gaining the benefits of a full sleep. However, vigorous activities will cause the spell to break and it's off to sleep-land unless you recast the spell or sleep for the remainder of the spell’s intended duration."

"Don’t overuse that spell," Luna warned. "If your biology is anything similar to a pony’s, then you need to have real sleep at some point. I won’t have my first apprentice go mad from lack of sleep."

"I’ll sleep once a week," I offered.

"Twice a week," Luna countered firmly.

I let out an exaggerated groan. "Yes, mom."

Aldin let out an amused hoot as he watched us from in his roost above us. I settled in across from Luna, and flipped open the scroll chest. Pulling out the needed supplies, I delved into my spellcraft.

The Keep Watch spell is a first-level enchantment, straightforward enough. It should take a few days — most likely a week — to sort out this spell’s creation, and add it to my list of known spells in my spellbook. But as I transcribed the formula onto parchment, a feeling of unease crept over me.

My quill slipped from my fingers, and fell clattering to the desk.

"What's the matter, Sebastian?" Luna's voice broke through my thoughts, but her face remained buried still in her book.

I scowled down at the spell before me. Something felt off, and yet the arcane writings appeared to be flawless. It was perfect really, too perfect. Too perfect, far too soon.

"This shouldn't be possible..." I muttered, scrutinizing my work. "Creating spells like this should take days, if not weeks. Not just a few hours!"

I jabbed my finger at the offending spell, frustration boiling within me. "It's not right! I mean — it is right, perfect even!"

Luna set her book down, her attention fully on me as I found myself pacing the room. “I would have expected you to be thrilled by this sort of outcome. Why does it trouble you so?”

I froze, my gaze trying to burn holes into the papers adorned with intricate arcane symbols. A frown affixed to my face. I had tried to avoid this fear as best I could. Going as far as to try to not even think of it, but that was being proven impossible. Too many things had hooked onto the fear, and brought it up from the depths of my mind.

The acrophobia. The impulse. The apple. The nightmare. The scars. And now, the magic.

I could not avoid it. Nor could I throw some lame excuse at Luna. Not after these crazed mutterings and pacing. I have already shown my hand to her, and she has taken a good look at all my cards. She could probably guess what nagged at me if she wanted to. She’d probably get it right with just a handful of tries. But she didn’t press me. Instead, she waited for my response.

So I gave it.

“What if tomorrow I wake up, and I'm not... me?” I glanced up at the window, where a few clouds drifted lazily by in the twilight of night. “This body isn't even my original one after all. What if Meridin returns and I'm no longer myself? No longer here? Where would I even go?"

Aldin came down to stand atop my head, feeling my turmoil, he began to pat my head with a wing. Luna’s silence encouraged me to continue.

"I was never afraid of heights! Meridin was." I held up my trembling hands, clenching them into fists. "I was never impulsive back on Earth! Meridin would do whatever he wanted — without hesitation!"

A bitter laugh oozed from me. "And now, I dream of Meridin's childhood! Not my own, his! It’s all so vivid. All so real."

"I didn't even like apples until I arrived here," I spat out the words, feeling a surge of frustration.

Closing my eyes, I sank into my chair, a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying grew heavier. I could almost hear the vrock’s laughter, mocking me even now. I found myself spilling more than I wanted to. The desire to vent overwhelmed my caution.

"I didn’t tell you the whole truth," I admitted quietly, my voice heavy. "Meridin was never a hero. Not a real one anyway. He was a rude, spiteful, prideful bastard who sought only his own gain. He didn’t care about helping anyone. The only people he cared about were his few friends, and Aldin. He only sacrificed himself because he knew if he didn’t his friends would die trying."

In the stillness of the library, Luna's approach echoed softly against the stone floor, her presence drawing me from my thoughts. Part of me braced for rejection or punishment, expecting her to cast me out.

"Sebastian," she began, her voice carrying a warmth that proved my fears to be irrational, "your concerns are valid, and I understand the burden you carry. But you must realize, you are not this ‘Meridin.’ You are your own person, carving your own path and shaping your own destiny."

Her words offered a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty that had engulfed me so suddenly. She reached out to touch my trembling hand, and with her touch granted me a sense of stability.

"It is to be expected to feel overwhelmed in a new world," Luna continued, her tone surprisingly reassuring. "But know this, Sebastian: you are not alone. As your mentor, I am here to guide you, and to support you through the challenges that come your way."

A small smile found its way to her, further reassuring me with a faint sense of hope. "And as for your fear of losing yourself, remember the strength you've already shown. You're adapting to your new reality with remarkable courage, and I have every belief in your capability to navigate the unknown."

"In moments of doubt, remember who you are and the journey that has brought you here. And know that I will stand by your side, unwavering in my support." She paused, giving me a moment to absorb her words before adding, "And as for the apples, perhaps it's simply a matter of acquired taste. Sometimes, the things we least expect turn out to be the most delightful of surprises."

As Luna's hoof gently held my hand, I couldn't help but find solace in the warmth and comfort it offered. It was such a simple gesture, and yet with it she lifted that great unknown burden.

I wanted to thank her or make some kind of witty comment to lighten the mood, but instead, what came tumbling out of my fool mouth was: “You have nice hooves.”

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks as I realized how awkward my words must have sounded. To my surprise, she laughed. A soft laughter that filled the air, a melodic sound that washed away my self-consciousness.

"It is quite alright, Sebastian," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. "And thank you, I suppose, for noticing."

In that moment, as we sat together in quiet understanding, I couldn't help but feel a surge of an emotion foreign to me. I was captivated by the kindness and compassion she showed, even in the face of my doubts and awkwardness.

As Luna withdrew her hoof, a sense of loss replaced its presence, surprising me with its intensity. It was a side of myself I had not known to exist. It was a longing for connection that clashed with my self-image.

But I couldn't dwell on it. I need to hammer those feelings aside, and remind myself that I wasn't the type to get attached to anyone or anything so easily. With a bit of effort, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

"I think I’ll copy Keep Watch into my spellbook!" The words felt artificial and very much forced. That would be because they are. I turned and began to copy said spell into my spellbook.

Take your mind off it! Think about it when you can hear your thoughts over your own stupidity! Somehow, I just know that this was all Meridin’s fault! That cocky bastard had to be behind this in some way!

As I began transcribing the Keep Watch spell into my spellbook, I made a conscious effort to distract myself from lingering thoughts. Reciting mental commands to maintain attention, and I urged myself to concentrate on the task and to drown out distractions.

Soon enough, I had the spell added to my spellbook. It was ready for future preparation, and subsequent casting.

"Sebastian, how about for our next session we practice sparring in melee combat?" Luna's gentle yet firm tone cut through the air, her suggestion carrying the sense of inevitability. "It's only a matter of time before you'll have need of those skills. Starting sooner rather than later will be invaluable."

"Yeah, you make a good point," I replied, nodding along. "I'm game. Let's do it."

“Tomorrow at moonrise at the sparring grounds.”

“I’ll try to be on time.”

As Luna took her leave, she stopped in the doorway, “Oh, and if you continue having any more dreams that trouble you, come to me. Usually I would simply dreamwalk into your dreams however, we share the same schedule which complicates things some. Remember, one of my duties as Princess of the Night is to oversee the dreams of our subjects. You are one of our subjects, Sebastian.”

With that she was gone.

I took my time making my way back to my room. My mind wandered, and so did my feet. Fortunately, I had Aldin with me to keep me from being completely alone with my thoughts.

“You’ve always been a lonely guy,” I whispered to myself as my steps echoed off the stones. “You’re just latching on to the first sign of compassion a pretty lady shows you! Maybe this was all a mistake?”

A wry thought slipped into my consciousness, escaping through my lips, "Well, Meridin certainly didn't moon over anyone! Heh, moon!"

Aldin slapped a wing across the back of my head. Seems like he either disliked the pun, or he wanted to head back to our room.

Clearly it was the latter. No familiar of mine could ever hate puns.

Simply not possible!

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The moon hung high in the sky, casting out its lunar glow over the sparring grounds. The air was cool, carrying with it some sort of floral scent. I stood nervously, feeling the odd weight of the training sword in my hands. The castle grounds were quiet, except for the distant sounds of the city at night.

Aldin stood perched atop a nearby pony-shaped practice dummy, his eyes tracking each and every movement I made. Tonight was to be our first session of melee combat with Luna, and I was already well out of my depth. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself... I failed at that. I just knew I was about to get my shit pushed in, and Aldin had front row seats to see it all.

Luna circled me, she scanned my posture with a critical eye.

"First things first," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement, "your stance. It's the foundation that everything is built off of, whether that be in swordplay or in duels of magic."

With a fluid application of her magic, Luna adjusted my stance, guiding my feet into a more proper position for combat. "Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, evenly distributed weight is essential to maintain balance," she instructed, while with her magic she continued to correct my posture. "You need to maintain balance, and be ready to move in any direction at a moment's notice."

I nodded, trying my best to absorb her guidance. Luna then moved on to the grip, demonstrating the proper way to hold the training sword. "Firm, but not too tight," she explained, her magic adjusting my grip as she talked. "You want control, but you also want to conserve your energy. A death grip will only serve to tire you out faster."

Looking me over, Luna nodded in approval before stepping back, ordering me to take a few swings at the air. I swung the sword awkwardly, the movements clumsy, uncoordinated, and all together alien.

"Focus on fluidity, Sebastian," Luna encouraged, her voice calm and reassuring. "Let the motion flow naturally from one movement to the next. Don't think of it as swinging a sword, think of it as moving an extension of yourself."

I tried my best to internalize her words as I continued the drills. With each swing completed, I felt myself growing a little bit more familiar with the motions. With each swing, the movements became slightly more fluid and natural. Luna watched silently, her eyes keenly observing my progress.

After what felt like an eternity of practice, but was probably no more than an hour or two, Luna finally nodded in satisfaction. "You're improving," she said, with the faintest hint of pride coloring her voice. "But, there is still much to learn. Let's work on transitioning between openings and striking surfaces."

Luna reached out with her magic to grab her own practice sword from a nearby weapon rack. She demonstrated the drill to me, transitioning smoothly through a series of strikes and parries. I tried my best to follow her lead, struggling to keep up with her speed and skill even with Luna slowing down the motions for me to be able to follow at all. However, with each completed repetition, I felt myself growing more confident. The movements growing just a bit more natural with each practiced motion.

As the practice session drew to a close, Luna suggested we put our skills to the test in a friendly duel. A thought snuck into my mind, what if this was all a ploy so she could whale on me some more, but with a training sword this time instead of balls?

Luna wielded her training sword with her magic, her movements practically oozed a level of grace that told me that victory was very much an illusion. I felt akin to a training dummy with a practice sword poorly taped to it. However, I was foolishly determined to try to prove myself. I wanted to prove to her — and myself — that I could hold my own in the ways of swordplay, if only for just a fleeting moment.

A childish desire, but one that I couldn’t dislodge from my mind.

We circled each other, tension thick in the air. Luna eyed me as though waiting for me to make the first move. I hesitated for a moment, then lunged forward with a clumsy probing thrust.

Luna easily slapped away my attack, her parry was so measured and casual that it felt like she had anticipated my thrust long before I ever started it. Frustration started to build within me.

Luna easily slapped away my attack, her parry was so measured and casual that it felt like she had anticipated my thrust long before I ever started it. Instead of a riposte at the clear opening granted by her parry, she opted to wait and watch. So I tried again, and again.

Thrust high. Slash low. Lunge left. Cut right.

No matter how hard I tried, or what tactic I attempted to employ, I couldn't seem to even get close to landing the dream of a single blow. Luna was always multiple steps ahead, her defenses impenetrable. I grew more and more frustrated with each failed attempt, my swings grew wild and erratic.

With each miss, my frustration mounted, and the weight of the sword grew heavier in my grip. I could almost hear Luna's calm breathing, an easily heard difference compared to my own ragged gasps for air.

And then, in a moment of desperation, I thought I glimpsed the impossible: an opening. Luna's guard faltered for just a fraction of a second. I seized the opportunity, launching myself forward with all the speed and little skill I could muster.

It was a trap. Of course it was a trap.

With a circular motion of her sword and a sweep of her foreleg, Luna effortlessly sent my sword flying away and me sprawling to the ground with a resounding thud. I lay there, dazed and defeated. I stared up at the stars above as Luna offered me a hoof up with a knowing smile.

"Never let your guard down, Sebastian," her voice was gentle but firm, with the feeling of instruction laced throughout. "In combat, whether it be with blades or with magic, the smallest lapse in judgment can be your downfall. Do not let your emotions rule you."

I nodded as embarrassment washed over me. Accepting her hoof, she pulled me to my feet with a surprising level of ease. I dusted myself off and regained my composure. As I looked at Luna, I felt a newfound determination take root within me. The spirit of competition was born.

"Can we go again?" I asked, excitement bubbling up in spite of my weariness.

Luna's smile widened, her eyes alight with pride. "That's the spirit, my dear apprentice," she encouraged, her tone encouraging. "Keep pushing yourself, and you'll become a formidable warrior in no time."

The resolve in her voice added fuel to the determination that was budding in me. The challenge of the training, the encouragement from Luna — it all fueled the fires of an ambition within me that I never had before. Perhaps it was due to being in a new world, or it could be the new form I now inhabit. Maybe this drive was always there, but I just couldn’t truly harness it in my prior mundane life.

It could be a combination of all of it.

We squared off once more, my heart pounding with a mixture of determination and excitement. This time, I focused on my breathing, on the rhythm of our movements, and on staying calm. Luna might be an alicorn and a seasoned duelist, but I was determined to show her that I was more than just a fool with a stick.

I’m a determined fool with a stick!

As we clashed again, I felt a sense of clarity forming amidst the chaos. My swings were more measured, my steps more deliberate. This wasn't just about winning; it was about learning, growing, and proving to myself that I could keep up with Luna.

Despite my best efforts and newfound determination, I found myself once again outmatched by Luna's skill and finesse. Her movements were like poetry in motion, while mine still felt clumsy and awkward. Yet, strangely enough, I wasn't bothered by my inevitable defeat.

"Better than when we started," she said, her voice filled with genuine pride. "Remember, each defeat is just another step on the path of improvement."

I nodded, grateful for her encouragement. With Luna's guidance, I knew that I would continue to improve. The number of losses held no value besides to be proof of dedication to the endless path that is improvement. And so, without hesitation, I eagerly followed her lead as she ran me through more sword drills, each one pushing me to grow my comfort and experience with the use of blades.

But eventually, the time came for Luna to fulfill her princessly duties. With a fond smile, she bid me farewell, promising to continue our training another night. As she turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards her.

This entire session, I never once thought of my concerns — of my paranoia. It was nice to unwind and try to beat the shit out of each other.

As I watched her go, something inside me shifted. A new resolve, stronger and more intense than before, took root. I would become strong — no — the strongest! Then I wouldn’t have to worry about being alone or losing any friends or fearing any dickhead demons!

That morning, as I laid in my bed, I replayed the night's training in my mind. And although my body may have been sore, my spirit was invigorated. Each mistake, each correction, each bit of progress, served to teach me. I would learn from every defeat, and I would grow stronger. I have a very long life ahead of me, and with Luna's guidance and my determination, I knew I was on the right path to making this life a wonderful one.

But sleep? Fuck that!

I don’t want to risk running into Mr. Sadistic-Murder-Bird-Demon. And besides, I have spells to craft. I muttered the incantation for Keep Watch, and felt the magic wash over me. The spell would keep fatigue at bay and allow me to better focus. With a toothy grin, I sat up, feeling the surge of conditional energy that came with the spell.

"Alright, best-buddy," I said, looking at my ever-loyal familiar, who was comfortably nestled in his little nest on the bookshelf. "Time to get back on that spellcraft grind!"

Aldin hooted with a look that seemed to say: ‘You're crazy, but I’m here for it.’

First on the agenda: recreating the Alarm spell. I needed something to ensure I won't be taken by surprise. I gathered my materials and set to work, drawing runes and weaving magic in no time.

"Let’s see... abjuration… wards…" I muttered to myself, completely absorbed in my work.

After a couple of hours of tinkering, I finally managed a hopefully functioning ward. I took a step back and admired my work, a clean circle of arcane runes sat glowing faintly on the floor.

"Now for the test," I said with a completely necessary flourish. "Aldin, if you would do the honors?"

Aldin hopped off his perch and waddled adorably towards the circle. As soon as he crossed the boundary, a single mental ‘ping’ sounded. Despite knowing that the sound was coming, I flinched anyway.

"Success!" I declared with a laugh. "With a little modification I can set it to make some sort of noise for everyone to hear, or just keep it to myself."

Aldin blinked up at me, looking very much unimpressed.

"Hey, don’t give me that look," I said, pointing at him. "This is progress! These low-level spells are building blocks towards the crazier shit! Just wait best-buddy, before you know it I’ll start doing crazy shit."

He gave me a look, then returned to his roost.

"Well I think its cool," I said as he settled into his nest. "Besides, now we can’t be surprised as easily. You know, as long as they’re not ethereal or astral creatures, we’re solid!"

I settled back down, setting the groundwork for my next spell, Endure Elements. But hunger roared from my stomach, an annoyed sigh escaped from me. Forging spells was surprisingly fun, and normal mortal distractions such as hunger were taking me away from that fun.

"Alrighty, Aldin," I said, standing up and stretching. "We have a few hours left before the spell wears off, let's grab some grub. We've got more training to do, spells to craft, princesses to one day impress."

Aldin hooted in agreement, and together we tidied up the evidence of our nocturnal activities. As I looked over the now pristine room, I felt a surge of pride and accomplishment.

"Here’s to another step towards becoming stronger," I said, giving Aldin a fist-bump. Or is it a claw-bump? Talon-bump? Fist-to-claw-bump? Fuck it. Whatever it’s called.

Aldin gave a little chirp of approval, and I granted him his much owed pets for the hour.

Together we left the confines of our room, and left to face the day.

Worm

Four weeks.

In such little time, I found myself settled into a nocturnal routine of losing at sparring and studying both the magical and the mundane. The library had become a nightly sanctuary when I wasn’t getting the snot beat out of me in the sparring grounds. Each time I slept, the same nightmares of the vrock demon and bloody slaughter awaited me, but I couldn’t bring myself to burden Luna with that knowledge.

She already has enough to deal with. Adjusting to being freed after millennia of isolated banishment to the moon, guilt from crimes from many lifetimes ago, her duties as Princess of the Night, and training me.

What kind of asshole would I be to lump more issues onto her? Besides, I can handle a terrifying nightmare or two a week. Me and that demon bird get to throwing hands, and sometimes I even get to land a punch that doesn’t even phase the thing. Easy-peezy!

Tonight, the library was bathed in the soft glow of candle light. The silence was broken occasionally by the rustling of pages or Aldin’s soft hoots from his perch in the bookshelves.

Luna sat across from me, her usually vibrant eyes seemed duller tonight with bags of shadows under them, her movements more subdued and sluggish. A poor imitation of her usual self. She stared at her book but hadn’t turned the pages in some time. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, concern gnawing at me.

I closed the book I was studying — a tome on the various creatures of Equis — the gentle thud filled the stillness. Luna looked up, her eyes reflecting the moonlight, but the spark of enthusiasm I had come to admire since arriving was dim.

"Luna,” I began, before promptly stopping. I had prepared a whole speech for this moment, but under her attention I found myself unable to manifest my thoughts into words. So instead I dragged the words out painfully, slowly, "I’ve noticed you’ve been... different lately. Is everything alright?”

She gave a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I’m fine. Just tired.”

I pursed my lips, mulling over her words. I wanted to believe her. I wanted her to simply be ‘just tired’, but her eyes looked far too distant, far too hollow.

Resting my palms on the table, I leaned forward. "I don’t believe you. I may not the best at reading people, but even I can see through ‘just tired’. Something is bothering you. Please, let me help you.”

Her expression hardened for a moment, and in that moment I considered the possibility that I might have overstepped. Mentally, I prepared myself to be thrown out the window.

After a long pause, she sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. "You are perceptive, Sebastian. More than I give you credit for.”

“I think i’ll take that as a compliment.”

There was a lengthy pause. Finally, Luna matched my gaze, her’s holding a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "I did terrible things, Sebastian. I led my little ponies to war, caused immense suffering, and took countless lives. The lives I've taken. The destruction I've caused. I can't escape that, no matter how much time has passed."

Feeling the need to occupy my hands, I found myself idly tracing circles into the table as I spoke. "I won’t pretend to understand what you went through or the pain you carry. But that was a thousand years ago. You were consumed by darkness, not acting of your own free will. You've changed. You're not the same person you were a thousand years ago.”

Luna's eyes flashed with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Sebastian, you misunderstand. Nightmare Moon isn't some separate entity or parasite possessing me. It was still me, my desires, my anger, my jealousy — just with all my inhibitions stripped away. I did those terrible things because I wanted to. Because I believed I deserved more. Nothing forced me, it was simply me freed from regret and remorse."

I blinked, momentarily stunned. The idea of Luna’s actions being her own choices, her own desires, was quite the bitter pill to swallow. The books I’ve read that covered Nightmare Moon and the war implied my incorrect understanding of how Nightmare Moon functioned — as a separate entity of sorts.

Lies or simple historical inaccuracies? A move made by Celestia to cover up the past? How much of the books in the Castle Library could be trusted?

So many questions and no way to find a trustworthy answer without showing my hand.

Was the pursuit of the truth worth even pursuing in this case?

I know what I would do in Celestia’s place: twist history to make it easier for my sister’s return. It’s far easier to accept that one of your rulers was taken over by some kind of evil entity than… this.

As the shock subsided, I found myself glancing at the shelves of books nearby. "So you're saying Nightmare Moon was you, just without restraint? That it was your own darkness brought to the surface?"

She nodded, tears glistening her eyes threatening to spill over. "Yes. That is what makes this so hard to bear. I can't blame some external force; I have to live with the knowledge that those were my choices, my actions."

I hesitated, right now my concerns about the integrity of the library, historical accuracy, and the truth did not rank high on my tiers of importance.

Man, I hate seeing anyone sad.

I reached out and took a hold of one of her hooves. "It changes nothing. The fact that you recognize what you did and are tormented by it means you’re not that person anymore. You want to be better, and that desire is what makes you deserving of redemption."

Luna looked at me, a mix of disbelief and hope in her eyes. "Even knowing the truth, you still want to help me?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "Everyone has some form of a dark side to them. It’s life, everyone makes mistakes in life. What matters the most to me is that you want to be better, that you're working towards making amends and being better. What matters to me the most is what you do now. That is what defines who you are, not what you did some thousand years or so ago."

Her breath hitched, and I could see the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease. A fragile smile touched her lips, relief shone amidst the crushing weight of her guilt.

"Your faith in me is more than I deserve," her voice carried centuries worth of guilt and shame.

“Nah,” I said with a firm shake of my head. "It’s exactly what you deserve. You’re working to make up for the past, and that effort counts for something. That being said, you shouldn’t carry this burden of yours alone. No man is an island! Or in this case: No pony is an island!"

Luna studied my face intently, her gaze searching for any hint of insincerity or doubt. The silence stretched between us, heavy and contemplative. I held her gaze, allowing her the time she needed to process, hopefully to see the sincerity in my words.

She exhaled slowly, a tension lifted from her. "Perhaps you are right," she muttered with resignation tinging her voice. “I've carried this alone for too long."

"If there's anything I can do to help," I offered. “Please, don't hesitate to ask.”

She nodded, a faint smile of gratitude touching her lips. "Perhaps... it would be best to be more open about my struggles," she admitted quietly, almost to herself.

At her smile, a wave of relief washed over me.

"I'm here for you," I reassured her, squeezing her hoof once more. “As you were and are for me.”

The gesture seemed to lift her spirits. Her smile grew, and the shine I had come to admire began to return in her eyes. I couldn’t help but match her smile with my own.

“You have nice hands,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Her words took me by surprise and I found myself unable to stop the full-bellied laugh that escaped me and brought me to tears. Once my laughter subsided, I let go of her hoof and relaxed back into my chair.

“I have manly hands!”

“Sure you do.”

“Oh? So you have jokes now?”

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of our conversation settling around us. The airs of the library had lightened considerably. A sense of contentment filled me.

As the silence stretched, I couldn't help but reflect upon my own problems. The nightmares had become a torment every time I attempted to sleep more than a few hours, the same horrific scenes replaying in my mind. Much like Luna, I tried to shoulder the burden alone. I had convinced myself that it was my battle to fight alone. However, seeing Luna's willingness to open up about her own struggles, forced me to come to the realization of how hypocritical it would be for me to say nothing of my own struggles. How could I preach of sharing her burdens with me, when I hide away my own?

One of the few people I truly hate are hypocrites.

"Luna," I began hesitantly, breaking the silence. "There's something I need to tell you."

Her eyes met mine, concern etched on her features. "What is it, Sebastian?"

Taking a deep breath, I once again began tracing circles in the wood of the table as I spoke. "I've been having nightmares. Ever since I arrived in Equis. It’s always the same... the circle breaks, a demon butchers cultists, and then it kills my… Meridin’s parents before it turns its attention to me."

I could see her eyes widened in shock from the corner of my vision, and I continued before she could respond. "Every time I sleep, I relive those moments. It's like the nightmare is taunting me. Trying to break me down. I’m sorry. I didn't want to add to your problems, especially with everything you're going through, but I figured it would be pretty hypocritical of me to say nothing. You know… after saying all that stuff about ‘no one should handle stuff alone’."

Luna's expression softened, her empathy shining through. "Sebastian, you should have told me sooner. As I’ve told you before: one of my duties is to watch over the dreams of our subjects."

"I know," I admitted, feeling very much the fool. "I guess I was just trying to be strong, I didn’t want to add to your troubles."

"Your well-being is important to me," she said firmly. "As your mentor it is my duty to help you through this. We will face this nightmare together."

She stood up, her resolve evident. "You shall sleep now, so I may accompany you through this nightmare. Together, we will confront this nightmare and put an end to it."

"Now?" I asked with a mixture of relief and apprehension suddenly coursing through me. "B-but it’s so early in the night.”

"Yes, right now," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Quality sleep is essential for your well-being, and I need to see this nightmare for myself."

We left the library, making our way through the dimly lit halls to my room. The castle was quiet, the only sound was our footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

When we reached my room, Luna gently urged me towards the bed. "Lie down and try to relax. I'll be right by your side.”

I nodded, feeling a strange sense of comfort knowing she would be there. As I lay down, Luna sat beside me, her presence a reassuring anchor.

"Close your eyes,” she instructed softly. "Focus on your breathing. I will join you in the dream soon.”

I did as she said, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. I surprised myself with how quickly I slipped into sleep. My last thought before sleep claimed me was simple: I hope this is the last time I dream of asshole demons ever again.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

I found myself back in that familiar nightmare, the twisted echo of when Meridin's childhood met its end. The darkness of the room was punctuated by the faint glow of the magic circle, silver-gray powder lining its edges. The dissonant abyssal chanting of the red-robed cultists cut short at the claws of a wrathful demon.

The vrock demon loomed over me, its eyes burning with malevolent glee. Its beaked face smiled down at me and with a casual stomp of its taloned foot, it cut through the links of my chains with ease. Grabbing me, it lifted me up so that I could be at its eye level, holding me aloft like a ragdoll.

I nodded, too terrified to respond.

The demon laughed, a horrible, grating sound, "I like your spirit, worm! Now hold still, I do not want you to bleed out too fast!”

It raised its clawed hand and sank its claws into my chest. The now familiar pain of laceration blossomed shoulder to hip. I somehow managed to keep my screams to a pitiful whimper.

The demon dropped me. I hit the floor with a wet thud, my vision swimming from the pain. As I lay there, disoriented and gasping out for breath, a voice broke through the haze of agony.

"Sebastian! To me!"

It was Luna. Her voice was a beacon in the darkness, and I forced myself to move. I pushed myself up to my feet, ignoring the searing pain of my fresh wounds, and stumbled towards the sound of her voice. The demon roared behind me, enraged.

"You dare? Here I am showing you mercy — I was going to bring you with me as my pet! But now, I will hang you by your entrails!" the vrock bellowed, its heavy footsteps pounding the floor as it gave chase.

I hauled ass through the winding corridors of the nightmare. I was moving as fast as my younger legs could carry me. Luna's voice acted as my guide, leading me through the labyrinthine hallways of Meridin’s childhood home.

"Keep going, Sebastian! You're almost there!"

I rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. Before me, hovering in the air, was a sword. Its blade gleamed with an otherworldly light, and the pommel was pointed towards me. Engraved into the pommel was a crescent moon.

Instinctively, I reached out and took a hold of the sword.

The demon was upon me. It was leaping through the air with its claws and talons outstretched. In a panic, I placed the sword between myself and the demon, bracing for impact. The vrock's momentum carried it forward. The blade met its neck, severing its head in a single motion.

The demon's body fell to the floor with a heavy thud. The vulture like head putting some distance from its body. I stood there, shaking and panting, the sword still clutched in my trembling hands. The nightmare and the sword began to dissolve around me. The darkness around me lifted to reveal Luna standing beside me.

"It is done," she said with pride and relief filling her voice in equal measure.

The pain from the wound the demon had inflicted quickly began to fade. In its place came a warm, comforting sensation. I turned to Luna, the overwhelming stress of the ordeal still pressing down upon me. The demon’s dealings of death and desecration still fresh in my mind.

I threw my arms around her, holding her tightly. She stiffened for a moment before relaxing into the embrace, her wings wrapping around me like a comforting cocoon.

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Sebastian.”

Teaification

The morning sun bathed Canterlot’s garden in its golden light. The heat of a summer’s day making the air feel thick with the scents of blooming flowers and fresh-cut grass.

Today I found myself seated at a small, ornate table, with delicate china set out before that looked to me almost too pristine to touch. Across from me, Princess Celestia, with her ethereal mane flowing in the non-existent breeze, sat gracefully. Her presence was akin to the dawn itself — radiant, serene, and unfortunately impossible to ignore.

I took a moment to sip my tea, the hot liquid burning slightly on its way down. It wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t here for tea. Luna had asked me to spend this time with her sister, to get to know her, and maybe, in time, to trust her. But as I looked across the table at Celestia, her golden crown glinting in the sunlight, I couldn’t shake the unease that settled in my gut.

Celestia was an enigma, a ruler with over a millennium of experience, and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of schemes she might have woven over the centuries. Her outward kindness, her motherly demeanor — it all felt too polished, too perfect. Was it genuine, or just another layer of control? I’d seen enough of power and its corruption both back on Earth and in the stories of Golarion to know that those in control always had their own agendas.

But, I was not on Earth or even on Golarion. I was here on Equis, and for Luna’s sake, I was in the gardens of Canterlot Castle, trying to push down the paranoia that whispered warnings in my ear.

Celestia smiled warmly at me, her eyes holding kindness within them, but I had already noticed the way she studied me, as if she were trying to unravel the thoughts hidden within my mind. “Sebastian,” she began, her voice gentle, “I’m glad you accepted my invitation. It’s not often I get to share a quiet moment in the garden with company.”

I gave a small nod, not entirely trusting myself to say anything just yet. The sun heat felt good upon my skin, and the setting was almost too perfect — too staged. I could feel Aldin’s presence on my shoulder, his silent companionship a reminder of the few friends I had here.

I reached up and granted him his due pets.

“So,” Celestia continued, her tone light and conversational, “how are you finding Equestria so far? I understand it must be quite different from your own world.”

I looked her over, wondering how much she really knew about me and the world I’d come from. “It’s… peaceful,” I said carefully. “Equis is more peaceful than what I’m used to.”

“That is a good thing, I hope?” she asked, her smile never wavering.

“Yeah,” I nodded while my mind was elsewhere. Peace was good, but peace somehow also made me feel on edge; like I was waiting for something to shatter that fragile thing known as 'peace'. “Earth is just… different, from Equis I mean.”

Celestia nodded as if she understood. “Different isn’t always easy, but sometimes it brings opportunities we never could have expected.”

There it was again, that motherly tone and gentle guidance that felt more to me like subtle manipulation than a mother's care. I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely trying to connect with me or if she was steering me toward some purpose I couldn’t see yet. It made me uneasy.

But I remembered Luna’s request, the way she’d looked at me when she asked me to give her sister a chance. She trusted Celestia — loved her, even. And if Luna, who had her own issues to contend with, could trust her sister, then maybe I could too.

Or at least, I could try.

Celestia poured herself another cup of tea, the liquid steaming as it filled her delicate cup. “You know,” she said after a moment, “Luna speaks of you often.”

That caught my attention, and I met her gaze fully for the first time since we’d sat down. “She does?”

Celestia’s smile grew, a genuine warmth in her eyes that surprised me. “Yes. She values your friendship greatly. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her so connected to someone.”

Her words held weight, and I felt a pang of guilt for my earlier suspicions. Luna had been through so much, and if this connection between us meant something to her, then maybe I needed to stop looking for hidden motives and start trusting that not everyone here had some grand plan to control me.

But that didn’t mean I’d let my guard down completely.

For now, I would fight my instincts, my distrust, and accept the friendship Celestia was offering. If only for Luna’s sake.

"Say," I said after a while, using Prestidigitation to turn the piping hot tea cold. "Does tea taste different in hot water?"

Celestia's left eye twitched ever so slightly, and when she didn't respond fast enough, I kept going.

"Yeah, I thought for years that people put it in hot water to speed up the teaification process."

Celestia blinked, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she were fighting a smile. “Teaification…?”

I gave a casual shrug. “It’s a perfectly valid term.”

“I suppose it can be see as valid. From a certain perspective,” she began with hints of barely contained laughter in her voice, “but, I believe there is something to be said for tradition.”

“Well, tradition or not,” I replied, swirling the cold tea in my cup, “I find that I prefer it this way. No danger of a burnt tongue, and it’s just as refreshing as ‘traditional’ tea.”

Celestia finally allowed herself a small laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Perhaps there’s something to be learned from your approach, Sebastian. Though I must admit, I’ve never seen anyone take such a method to tea before.”

“Consider it a gift from my world,” I said with a smirk.

As Celestia chuckled softly, I found my wariness easing, just a bit. Maybe it didn’t matter if Celestia had ulterior motives. Maybe it didn’t matter if she was as calculating as I suspected. In the end, my goals remained the same: to protect those I cared about, and that included Luna.

And if Celestia was truly as genuine as she seemed, then she too would fall under my protection. I would fight my paranoia, my distrust, and for now, I would accept the friendship she offered.

If only for Luna’s sake.

Court

Canterlot Castle's dining hall was bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. The hall's stained-glass windows let through a kaleidoscope of colors. The intricate patterns of colors danced across the elaborately adorned table, throwing about an almost surreal glow over the room. The scene felt more like a moment from a dream than reality.

The initial shock of my new reality — and my new body — had gradually begun to ebb away, though the wonder of it all still caught me off guard at times.

I often felt out of place amidst Canterlot’s opulence. The memories of my simple Earth life clashed with the grandeur that now surrounded me. Yet, despite this, I found myself growing fond of my time among the ponies of Canterlot. My nocturnal habits, however, left little room for forging new friendships.

At least, that was the excuse I clung to for my introverted nature.

The truth was far simpler: I found comfort in the company of a select few close friends rather than spreading myself thin by trying to befriend everyone.

I already had the friends I needed — Luna, Celestia, Shining Armor, and Aldin. There was no reason to seek out more when these relationships brought me such fulfillment. If I made a new friend here and there along the way, then so be it.

I looked in the grand hall, trying to take in its splendor without looking too much like some wide-eyed tourist. My gaze eventually settled on a newly installed stained-glass window, depicting the two princesses standing side by side — a depiction of Luna’s return to the fold.

Perhaps I had been too quick to judge Celestia. Maybe, in my own paranoia, I had let my fears cloud my judgment. It was time to discard those doubts and give Celestia the benefit of the doubt. At least I hadn’t done anything too drastic in my suspicions — like booby-trapping my windows and doors.

Well, I almost did. I had started engraving an Incendiary Rune into the lockset of my door, but the mental image of some poor passerby accidentally triggering it — and being set ablaze — quickly shut down that insane plan. That, and Luna caught me in the act.

I had never seen her so disappointed.

For now, I’d settle for the Arcane Lock spell on the entry points. You know, for safety — mine, and that of others, and my future projects.

Aldin, who was perched silently on my shoulder, chose that moment to begin picking incessantly at my hair. I shot him a glare. “Can you not? The princesses are going to be here any moment.”

Just as I was about to launch into a heated debate with my familiar about proper grooming etiquette, the door to the dining hall swung open. Our scuffle was instantly forgotten as we made a hasty truce, pretending like nothing had ever happened.

"Good evening, Sebastian," Princess Celestia greeted warmly as she entered the hall, her presence like a beacon of light. "I trust you slept well?”

"Good evening, Your Royalness," I replied, giving a respectful nod. "Slept like a rock."

Luna followed closely behind, her midnight-blue mane flowing like a cascade of stars. She offered a polite smile.

"Evening, Sebastian," Luna greeted with a small nod.

"Evening, Luna," I responded, returning her nod with one of my own.

As we took our seats, the table practically groaned under the weight of the feast laid out before us. Roasted vegetables, fresh fruits, and an almost comical array of cakes and pastries made my mouth water. For a moment, the only sound was the clinking of silverware as we served ourselves, a peaceful silence settling over the room.

I steepled my fingers, scowling slightly at the grand display of food. Where to start? Fruits, perhaps? That croissant looks mighty fresh right now. Huh, there’s definitely far more cakes than anything else... How curious.

Celestia broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "Sebastian, you look like you're plotting something. Is there anything on your mind?"

"Just trying to decide where to start," I admitted, glancing over the spread and gesturing toward the food. "This all looks amazing, so many options."

Luna glanced at me, a playful glint in her eye. "I recommend the moon cakes. They are a personal favorite of mine."

"Ah, of course they are," I replied with a smirk, earning a small laugh from both sisters. I reached for one of the moon cakes and took a bite. "Wow! This is some serious gourmet stuff!"

"Indeed," Celestia said without missing a beat, a knowing smile on her lips. "Our chefs are quite talented. They pour their hearts into every dish."

Luna nodded, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I am glad you enjoy it, Sebastian. These dinners are the perfect opportunity for us to unwind and enjoy each other’s company."

Eating on, I couldn't ignore the rather impressive number of cakes accumulating in front of Celestia. "Celestia, I have to ask... is there a special occasion for all the cakes?"

Celestia chuckled, not at all fazed by my question. "I simply have a fondness for cakes. They are my little indulgence."

Luna leaned over with a teasing grin. "Little indulgence, sister? I believe the kitchen staff refers to it as 'the great cake exodus' whenever you sit for dinner."

Celestia feigned a look of shock. "Sister, you wound me! It is not that many."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone enjoy cakes this much."

Celestia gave a regal shrug, a mischievous glint in her eye. "One must enjoy the finer things in life, Sebastian. Perhaps one day you too, will develop a similar appreciation for the culinary arts."

"Perhaps one day," I said while taking another bite of the moon cake. "For now, I'll stick to these. They're amazing!”

Aldin, still perched on my shoulder, let out a soft hoot, as if to agree. The atmosphere was light and filled with laughter, a stark contrast to the weighty discussions of magic and history or intense sparring and drills that usually filled my evenings and nights.

As the meal continued, the conversation flowed easily. We talked about my training and studies, and my old life back on Earth. The princesses were genuinely curious about my world, and I found myself sharing as much as I could.

"You mean to tell us,” Celestia said, eyes wide with amusement, "that humans willingly strap themselves into metal tubes and with explosions, hurtle through the sky at breakneck speeds?”

"That's airplanes for you," I said with a shrug. "It's actually pretty safe and sometimes even relaxing, despite how it sounds. Usually… most of the time… if there isn’t any turbulence."

Luna leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "And this 'internet' you speak of, it connects humans from all over your world?"

Finishing my glass of wine, I nodded as I replied. "Yup, it's like a giant web of information and communication. It’s hard to imagine life without it now."

Aldin hooted softly, as if trying to contribute to the conversation, and Luna smiled at him. "Your familiar is quite adorable, Sebastian."

I set my now empty wine glass on the table and let out a dramatic gasp, scooping Aldin up from where he sat and pressing him to my chest like a prized possession. "How dare you, madam! Sir Aldin the First is not ‘adorable’! He embodies peak male performance! A man’s man! Sir Aldin is a gentleman among gentlemen, a scholar among scholars!”

Luna burst into laughter, shattering my mask of mock outrage. "I apologize, Sir Aldin," she said with a playful bow. "I didn’t mean to undermine your gravitas."

Aldin puffed up his feathers in response, hooting in a way that almost seemed dignified. I grinned, scratching him atop his feathered head. "There, there, Sir Aldin. Your reputation remains intact."

Luna’s laughter softened into a chuckle. "I must admit, you two make quite the pair."

"Yeah," I said with a grin. "Aldin is like a little brother I never knew I needed."

She leaned back, still smiling. "And he seems to have quite the personality. It’s not every day you meet such a distinguished owl."

"Definitely one of a kind," I replied, patting Aldin again. "I'm not sure what I’d do without him."

Aldin hooted again, and Luna raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Perhaps he has some wisdom to share with us tonight."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "If only. Most of his wisdom comes in the form of judgmental stares whenever I mess up."

"Sounds like a true friend," Luna said, her tone light and teasing.

"Yep," I replied, my grin widening. "When he starts talking, I’ll make sure you’re one of the first to know."

Luna's eyes shone with amusement. "I look forward to it, Sebastian."

With dinner's conclusion, Celestia excused herself to attend to some evening duties of hers, leaving Luna and I alone at the table. Moonlight began to pour through the tall windows, casting a lunar glow over the room. Luna turned to me with a thoughtful expression plastered on her face.

"Sebastian," Luna began, her voice as soft as the night breeze, "would you accompany me to tonight's Night Court?"

"Of course, Luna," I replied without a moment's hesitation. "I’d love to."

Luna’s smile lit up the dinning hall, causing my heart seemed to skip a beat. A strange sensation stirred within me, something that felt unfamiliar. I quickly dismissed it as my usual desire to bring joy to others, especially Luna, who had been there for me since I arrived into Equis.

Yes, that must be all it was.

"Good," she said, her excitement barely contained. "I shall raise the moon, and then we shall host Night Court!"

As Luna began her ritual, I found myself entranced, unable to look away. Her command over the moon was nothing short of mesmerizing — a blend of magic and artistry that felt almost divine. The moon obediently rose, casting its silver light across the sky, which now shimmered with constellations that seemed both familiar and alien. It was as if she were painting the night itself, each stroke of her magic adding depth and mystery to the heavens.

The castle transformed in the moonlight, its grand halls taking on an ethereal, dreamlike quality. Lanterns fueled by magic forged shadows that danced along the walls, and the moon’s light gave everything a soft, almost otherworldly glow as we made our way to the throne room where Night Court was held.

This would be my first time attending Night Court. I had always steered clear of Day Court, having heard too many of Shining Armor's horror stories about the childish demands and endless politics that the nobility played there. But the night... the night was different.

At this time of night the throne room was dimly lit, moonlight from Luna's moon poured in through the tall windows, casting long, elegant shadows. The atmosphere was surprisingly intimate, almost close to a cozy feel, in spite of the grandeur of the setting. It was also quiet — noticeably so. Few sought Luna's counsel during the day, and even fewer ventured here at night.

Even Aldin left, probably to hunt himself some dinner. Or cause chaos somewhere in the city.

Their loss, I suppose.

From the start of Night Court, the throne room remained eerily quiet, with hardly any visitors to break the monotony. Luna sat upon her throne, regal and composed, but I could see the subtle signs of boredom creeping in as the hours dragged on. Her gaze occasionally drifted toward the door, perhaps hoping for someone, anyone, who might need her guidance.

The sight tugged at my heart.

Here was Luna, in all her majesty, looking so isolated in this moment of duty. Despite her strength, she seemed almost lonely, and the thought of her spending these long hours in silence was more than I could bear. I wanted to do something, anything, to lift her spirits. An idea sparked in my mind — a simple spell that might bring a bit of lightness to the heavy atmosphere.

Luckily, I had two castings of Silent Image prepared tonight!

With a quick gesture, I conjured the visual figment of a small, cartoonish dragon, complete with a jester’s hat perched jauntily on its head. The illusion fluttered around the room, performing exaggerated tricks and playful antics. It breathed harmless plumes of fire, juggled imaginary balls, and flapped its tiny wings in an adorably clumsy fashion.

A shocked expression crossed her face before a genuine smile took over. "What is this?" she asked, amusement clear in her voice.

"Just a little something to keep us entertained," I replied, focusing intently on maintaining the spell. The dragon continued its performance, now balancing precariously on one clawed finger while tipping its hat with the other. "I’ve been practicing with illusions. You never know when a bit of flexibility might come in handy."

Luna chuckled, a light, musical sound that filled the empty room. Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself grinning as I manipulated the illusion further. Seeing her happy, even for a moment, was incredibly rewarding. For a brief moment, I entertained the thought of becoming a traveling magician if this whole apprenticeship thing didn’t pan out, but quickly dismissed it. That life would never align with my ambitions, and besides, I couldn’t leave Luna alone like this.

There were still so many things to create, so many things left to do.

As the night wore on and I ran out of antics for the dragon, I decided to change the scene. With a wave of my hand, the dragon vanished, and with another casting of Silent Image, I conjured a new illusion — a tranquil forest clearing, bathed in the soft glow of illusory fireflies that danced through the air, casting gentle reflections across Luna's face.

"This is beautiful," Luna said softly, her eyes shimmering in the ethereal light of the fireflies.

"It’s nothing," I mumbled, suddenly feeling a bit shy and not quite able to meet her gaze. It was strange to feel this way — bashful. I was usually more confident, especially when it came to magic.

Her smile widened a fraction, and Luna tilted her head slightly, as if she was seeing something in a new light. "That doesn’t sound like my confident apprentice. Is everything alright?"

I cleared my throat.

I fumbled with my concentration as I struggled to maintain the illusion while trying to regain my composure. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just... not used to getting such high praise for some little party tricks."

"Little party tricks?" Luna laughed softly, her voice warm and melodic. "What you’ve shown me tonight is far more than that. This is a gift. You should be proud of it, Sebastian."

The sincerity of her words took me off guard. They sent me stumbling through my mind to find an appropriate response. I scratched the back of my head, as though that would magically summon some sort of clear thought. "Well, I guess it’s just... nice to see you happy. You work so hard, and I thought you could use a little fun."

Luna’s expression softened further as she leaned in. Her presence was paradoxically comforting and overwhelming simultaneously. "I’m glad you decided to attend Court with me tonight. It would have been unbearably dull otherwise."

"I'm glad I could help," I whispered as I looked at her from out the corner of my eye.

For a moment we sat in comfortable silence, the moonlight and the illusion creating for us a moment of relaxation. I found solace in the simple joy that is her company, contentment settled within me due to just being in this moment.

Finally, Luna broke the silence. "Night Court is almost over. Would you like to join me for a walk through the gardens?"

I nodded, allowing the illusion to fade and dissipate. "Yeah, I'd like that."

We left the throne room and made our way out into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Luna. Her presence was a constant in my life, ever since the night she bested me with her spells and accepted me as her apprentice.

“What’s on your mind, my dear apprentice?” Luna asked as we passed a row of statues, her tone playful yet curious. “You have that look on your face when you’re deep in thought. I can practically hear the gears turning.”

I glanced at her, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Being here, experiencing all of this — it’s incredible. Sometimes it feels like I’m living in a dream.”

Luna returned my smile, her eyes reflecting the light of the stars. "I'm glad you feel that way. Equestria has much to offer. I find it fascinating to see how you see Equestria through your fresh eyes."

As we continued our walk, I felt a not unwelcomed sense of calm settle over me. There was something about her presence, her quiet understanding that made me feel at ease. It was as if all my worries could be set aside for the night.

Within the garden there was small pond that we stopped at. The water was granted a shimmer from the moonlight that danced across the surface like some liquid silver. Luna took on a thoughtful expression looking into the pool of water.

"For well over a thousand years, the night has always been my domain," she said whispered. "It’s a time of peace and introspection, but it can also be... lonely."

I nodded. I think I understand what she's getting at. "I suppose it can be, but it doesn’t have to be."

She turned to look at me with the faintest hint of surprise crossing her expression. "You're right. It doesn't."

For a bit of time we stood there. We basked in the serenity of the night. I found myself staring into my own reflection in that pool of water. Behind my reflection sat stars twinkling in the great expanse beyond the bounds of Equis like some distant memories just outside of reach.

"Sebastian... have you ever thought about finding a way back home?" Luna asked gently.

"I have, and maybe I could," I admitted, taking a moment to consider her question before continuing. "But I don’t care to return to Earth. Home has always been wherever I decide it to be.”

From the pond’s reflection, I could see Luna studying me closely. "What about your family? Friends?"

I shrugged, the motion almost instinctive. "I don’t really have much of a family, at least not any worth mentioning. And friends... well, they’ve either drifted away, passed on, or life just happened. It is what it is."

Luna’s expression softened with an emotion that looked like pity, which I was quick to dispel.

"Hey, don’t give me that look! I’m better off here with you anyway," I said, flashing her the best smile I could muster. "I feel more at home here than anywhere I’ve been before."

Luna's calculating gaze softened, and she nodded in quiet appreciation. "I'm pleased to hear that you find Equestria so welcoming."

We lingered by the pond a while longer, the night wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. There was a peace in the silence, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

"Come," Luna said eventually, turning back toward the garden’s exit. "It will soon be time for me to lower the moon."

By the time we returned to the castle dawn was beginning its march over the horizon. Luna paused at the entrance, turning to me with a small and sincere smile.

"Thank you for tonight, Sebastian. It has been... refreshing."

"Anytime," I replied, feeling a newfound confidence in my voice. "I'll see you tomorrow night? Library time?"

"Library time," she confirmed with a gentle nod.

"Sweet."

Leash

Aldin and I strolled through the vibrant streets of Canterlot, the city alive with the afternoon hustle and bustle. The heart of Equestria pulsed with energy, its marble spires reaching toward the heavens, glinting under the sun’s golden light.

With the Keep Watch spell active, I could savor the sights and sounds without sacrificing the precious rest I'd need before Luna’s next lesson in combat, which lately seemed more like an elaborate game of “How Many Times Can I Get Knocked on My Ass?”

Adapting to Luna's nocturnal rhythm had its perks, but daylight was no longer one of them. The sun, in all its unrelenting brilliance, had become a sworn adversary — a blazing orb that seemed intent on burning my eyes right out of their sockets.

Maybe Nightmare Moon had a point about the whole ‘eternal night’ shtick.

"I could always recreate the Penumbra cantrip," I muttered, squinting against the glare as I raised a hand to shield my face. "Though I’d probably look like some brooding villain. Then again, villains are usually the ones with all the cool shit. I’m getting close enough to tackle some wondrous item crafting. Maybe I’ll whip up a pair of enchanted shades. Or maybe a variant of—"

My musings were abruptly cut short as I spotted a familiar figure seated alone at a quaint patio diner. Shining Armor, Captain of the Solar Guard, was hunched over a small table, idly toying with a napkin. There was a nervous energy about him, the kind you’d see when someone is waiting for something or someone important. Curious, I nudged Aldin and inclined my head toward Shining before weaving through the crowd to join him.

Most of our encounters tended to be limited to hallway talk and the like. Brief moments of dialogue that usually were cut abruptly by either his work or my hunger for breakfast. Now was a rare moment of catching Shining both off the clock, and in daytime. It was as good of a time as any to catch up.

"Yo, Shining!" I called out as I approached, my voice cutting through the ambient noise of the city. "Mind if we join you?"

Shining looked up, and the tension in his shoulders melted away as recognition dawned on him. A small, relieved smile spread across his face. "Sebastian! Aldin! Please, have a seat." He gestured to the empty chair across from him.

Aldin fluttered down onto the back of the chair while I settled into the seat. "Waiting for someone special?" I asked, taking notice of the way his eyes darted to the streets nearby. That and there was the obvious fact that his chosen seating arrangement was a table for two.

"Yeah," he replied, his smile shifting over into something more genuine. "I’m waiting for Cadance. We’re having a late lunch together."

"Cadance, huh?" I said, my curiosity piqued. "You’ve mentioned her before, but I’ve never met the poor gal."

Shining’s face brightened, an almost dreamy expression overtaking his usual composed demeanor, despite my teasing. "She is incredible. Sebastian, I’m telling you, I still don’t believe how lucky I am! I’m living the dream!"

"Wow," I said with a grin. "Yep! Seems to me like our Captain is head over hooves in l-o-v-e."

"I am," he admitted with a slight blush beginning to tinge his cheeks. "She’s unlike anypony I’ve ever met."

Aldin hooted softly, and I patted his head, giving him the attention he sought. Shining wanted to speak about his lady friend, so I asked a question I knew he’d love to answer. "So, how did you two meet?"

Shining chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "It’s kind of a long story, but we met back when she was babysitting my little sister. We just... clicked. We’ve been close ever since."

"Little sister? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

He gave a small shrug. "It never came up, but you met her back in Ponyville.”

I stroked my chin, humming to myself as I connected the dots. "Aha! The marshmallow!”

"Yeah, Twilight — wait, marshmallow?”

Arms crossed, I nodded as if I’d known all along. "Ah, not Rarity then. Twilight Sparkle was going to be my next guess. But that’s not important! How does your sister feel about you smashing her babysitter?”

Shining blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "Huh?”

I held up a finger, a small smirk forming. "You know… bumping uglies!”

That only deepened his confusion. "Sebastian, what the buck are you talking about?”

Right, pony vocabulary. I tried again. "Getting one’s leg over?”

"...”

"Laying pipe? Doing the business?”

"We’re not starting a plumbing business if that’s what you’re asking.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Don’t worry about it, man. You don’t often hear about relationships that start from babysitting. Outside of certain... films.”

Shining nodded, the dreamy look returning to his eyes. "Yeah, she’s one of a kind. I’m really lucky to have her in my life."

Shining was so head over heels that it was like he was floating on air, practically up on cloud nine.

"So, what about you, Sebastian?" Shining asked, shifting the focus to me. "How's life as Luna's apprentice treating you?"

"Tons of studying and just as much sparring," I replied with a chuckle while rubbing at the back of my neck. "I’ve been quite busy since I started my apprenticeship under Luna. She does not hold back. Every session with her feels like she's testing my limits — physically and mentally. But, to be honest, I love the challenge. It’s tough, but I can feel myself growing a bit stronger every day. I her training might be turning me into a bit of a masochist," I added with a grin. “Nah. That’d be crazy.”

Shining mirrored my grin. "That's great to hear, not the masochist part... I think. But from what I hear from the guard and the castle staff, you're managing it all pretty well."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a swell of pride. "I'm giving it my all. My magic has been improving, my body is in the best shape I think it’s ever been, and I’ve been drinking plenty of milk."

We continued our little chat, swapping stories and banter to help with the passage of time. The more we talked, the more I felt a growing sense of contentment. A sense like I was right where I needed to be.

As the conversation went on, I noticed Shining glancing frequently toward the café entrance, his anticipation growing more evident with each passing minute. My man was clearly distracted, and it was starting to show.

Leaning back, I cradled the back of my head with my fingers, adopting a casual tone. "So, this 'Cadance' of yours... is she hot?"

Shining chuckled, shaking his head with a knowing smile. "You’ll see for yourself soon enough. She’s just running a bit late."

"Fair enough," I replied with a grin. "I’m looking forward to meeting her. Assuming she actually exists, of course..."

Shining’s tone turned incredulous. "Oh, she’s real all right! A lot more real than your marefriend, that’s for sure."

"I don’t have a marefriend."

"Yeah. That’s no surprise," Shining said with an overly exaggerated shake of his head. "You’ve got all the charm of vanilla ice cream. Just without the vanilla."

Shaking my head, I knew I had to clap back. "At least I can hold my own in a fight. I’ve heard your sparring tales, and let me tell you, I’ve heard of foals with better reflexes."

"Big talk coming from the guy who gets his tail handed to him by Princess Luna every other day," Shining shot back, grinning.

"Hey! I don’t have a tail! Also, she’s got a wicked right hook," I said, rubbing my jaw at the memory of our last bout. "Not that you’d know, since you’re always prancing around in that shiny gold armor of yours."

"That armor looks cool as buck," Shining retorted, giving me a playful jab in the chest. "Plus, Cadance has a thing for a stallion in armor. What’s your excuse?"

"Maybe she just likes you in spite of the armor," I teased, winking. "But hey, if I were as plain as you, I’d probably need the armor too."

"Plain, huh?" Shining laughed. "Better than being a glorified punching bag."

“This ‘punching bag’ has all the mares swooning!” I boasted.

“Sebastian, they’re swooning from all the nausea.”

"Touché," I raised my hands in the universal sign for mock surrender. "But just you wait! One of these days, I’m going to surprise everyone and actually win one of those matches."

"Sure buddy. I'll believe it when I see it," Shining said with a shake his head. "But hey, keep dreaming."

"My dreams are just the reality you haven’t woken up to yet!" I shot back, a confident smirk on my face.

"Sure, buddy," Shining replied with a roll of his eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

“I’ll have you know, I don’t sleep at night," I said, flipping him the bird for emphasis.

Shining nudged me, his playful grin widening. "Hey, there she is," he said, nodding toward the approaching figure. "And yeah, she's hot."

Following the trail of his gaze, I almost fell right out my chair. Approaching us was a pink alicorn with a flowing mane of violet, rose, and gold. She carried herself with a grace that seemed effortless, and her eyes settled on Shining Armor. As she made her way to our table a genuine smile grew across her face.

The fuck.

Wow. I thought Shining meant… I don’t know! A different Cadance, not the Princess Cadance.

"Wow," I was in awe and all together genuinely surprised. "How’ did you manage to trick her into dating you?"

Shining chuckled, puffing out his chest with pride. "No tricks needed! I’m just that awesome."

Cadance approached, greeting Shining Armor with a brief nuzzle and a kiss on the cheek. Her gaze then turned to me, conveying a blend of curiosity and warmth.

"Sebastian, this is Cadance," Shining introduced with a touch of pride in his voice. "Cadance, this is my friend Sebastian."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sebastian," Cadance said, extending a hoof. "Shining's mentioned you a few times."

"Likewise," I replied, shaking her hoof. "I've heard good things. Shining's been bragging nonstop about how beautiful and amazing you are!"

Cadance blushed slightly, her smile softening. "Oh, has he now?"

Shining shot me a grateful look before turning his attention back to Cadance. "Well, you know, I might have said a thing or two..."

A comfortable silence settled over us, filled only by the ambient noise of the city. It was clear to me that Shining and Cadance were eager to get on with their date.

"Well, I'll go ahead and leave you two lovebirds to it," I said while taking a stand and stretching. "I don’t want to be in a third wheel situation."

"Actually, before you go," Shining interjected, "how about joining me for a drink or two at the Golden Horseshoe later? It's a popular haunt for the Solar Guard, and we could use a night out."

I considered the offer for a moment, realizing I hadn’t really had much downtime with Shining. Why not? I gave him a nod. "Sounds like a plan. I'll see you there."

Cadance smiled amiably at me. "It was nice meeting you, Sebastian. Have a good evening."

"Same to you, Cadance," I said, giving them a nod before turning to leave.

As I walked away, a sense of satisfaction settled in. Despite the rough patches and the constant adjustments to life in Equestria, I had found a place here — and some good friends to share it with. A smile snuck onto me as I made my way back through the bustling streets of Canterlot, eager for the evening ahead.

Aldin fluttered from my shoulder to circle above me. I called up to him, "How about we liberate some food from the castle’s kitchen before we hit the bar? Don’t want to drink on an empty stomach!"

Aldin hooted back in agreement.

"You’re right! I do have the best plans," I said with a grin. "Glad you agree with me, best-buddy."

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The Golden Horseshoe.

A bar steeped in the evening's vibrant energy and filled the airs of good drinks and an even better time. The inviting glow of golden lamps threw about a cozy light over the bar’s crowd.

I found myself a quiet spot near the back, away from the rowdier patrons, and settled in. Aldin took up his favored position atop my shoulder. From his vantage point, Aldin surveyed the room, before ditching me to take flight to go hunt for his dinner. I watched him as he slipped out one of the bar’s open windows and vanished into the night.

Taking initiative, I flagged down the bartender and ordered a couple of drinks. Why not get a head start on refreshments while waiting for Shining to finally show? Before long the bar became filled with the welcoming sounds of clinking glasses and the low murmur of conversation. Every once in awhile a bursts of laughter cut through the aforementioned low hum of voices.

I must admit, Shining Armor had picked a great spot here.

A few sips later, Shining Armor arrived. It took him only a second to find me, sticking out like a sore thumb, at the back of the bar. A grin broke across his face as he made his way over. "Hey, Sebastian. Holding down the fort, I see."

"Of course," I replied, raising my glass in greeting. "And I secured us a prime spot too."

Shining slid into the seat across from me, signaling the bartender for another round. "So, how’d the rest of your day go? Anything exciting?"

"Not much," I admitted, leaning back in my chair. "Raided the kitchen, liberated a few of Celestia’s cakes. The usual.”

Shining chuckled, shaking his head. "I’m surprised you didn’t get lost on your way here."

"I have my ways," I said, smirking. "So, how long can you stay out tonight?"

Shining sighed but couldn’t hide the fond smile on his face. "Not too late. Cadance has me on a bit of a leash tonight. But it’s worth it. She’s amazing."

"No worries! I’ll make sure you get home to your girl," I vowed, raising my glass. "To Cadance."

"To Cadance," Shining echoed, clinking his glass against mine. We both took a long pull of our ciders. The alcohol already beginning to warming us from the inside out.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed freely and with it, so did the stories. Shining spun for me tales of his training days in the Solar Guard. In return I shared some of my more bizarre experiences in Canterlot. The drinks kept coming, and before long, we were both thoroughly tipsy.

"Y'know," Shining slurred, leaning heavily on the table, "you’re not so bad, Sebast-yawn. For a stallion who enjoys getting his ass kicked by Princess Luna on the regular."

"Thanks, I think," I giggled. "You’re not so bad yourself, for a guy who prances around in shiny armor all day."

The alcohol made everything far funnier than it probably was. Before long we burst into another fit of laughter. The bar was still lively, but time had begun to whittle down the crowd.

"S-Sebastian, buck, your name is too long," Shining struggled, trying to get my name out. "Seb? Seb! I have a secret! I’m not supposed to tell anypony, but you’re not a pony, so that makes it okay!"

I held up my hand, wiggling my fingers as if verifying his logic. "Yeah, that checks out."

Shining scooted closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Seb, can I tell you a secret?"

"I’m the best at keeping secrets," I said trying my damnedest to suppress my slurs. I am almost certain that I failed at it.

He took a deep breath, and took to glancing around to ensure sure no one was listening in on our conversation. "I got engaged a few days ago."

"Wow, congrats!" I exclaimed, genuinely thrilled for him. "Wait — to Cadance, right? Shining, if you fumble Cadance, I’m going to kill you. No one will find your body."

Shining jabbed me with his hoof. "I’m not fumbling anything!"

"I know," I said making sure to give just the right amount of shit over it. "Just making sure you know I’m not letting you screw this up." I raised my mug in toast. "To you and Cadance. May you have a lifetime of happiness together."

"Thanks, Seb," he said, clinking his mug against mine once more.

As we took another drink, I noticed a shift in Shining’s demeanor. He hesitated, then finally spoke up, his voice softer. "I haven’t told my little sister yet."

"Really? Why not?" I asked, surprised.

"I’m not sure," he admitted. "I guess I just haven’t found the right moment. She’s... special to me. I want to make sure I tell her in person."

I nodded, understanding. "Okay. I suppose that makes sense. Or that might just be the cider making me more agreeable. Anyways, I’m sure she will be thrilled when you finally get around to telling her."

"I hope so," he said as his tone took on a softer edge. "She has always been my little star. I just don’t know how she’ll react to the fact that I’m marrying her babysitter."

"Well, I’m sure it will all work out just fine. I’m sure your sister will be happy for you, but hey — if you ever need to fake your death, I’m your guy!"

Shining chuckled, taking another swig of his cider. "Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks, Seb."

We kept drinking, the conversation flowing easily as the night wore on. Aldin, having returned from his hunt, perched on my shoulder, occasionally pecking at my ear as if trying to remind me of something important. I absentmindedly scratched his head, focused more on the cider in front of me than anything else.

Shining Armor, already a few drinks in, was recounting a particularly hilarious story from his early days in the Guard, his laughter contagious. I found myself chuckling along. The alcohol had done a sublime job at dulling the edges of my usually sharp thoughts. The cider had a way of blurring things, making everything seem just a little less serious and just a little more manageable.

Shining leaned heavily on the table, his eyes half-lidded and a goofy grin adorned on his face. "You know, Seb," he slurred, "you’re... you’re alright. For a hooman? Human. I mean, not that I’ve met any other humans, but you’re... definitely the best one."

I laughed, spilling a bit of my drink in the process. "Thanks, Shiny. You’re not so bad yourself. For a pony."

He snorted, nearly choking on his cider. "A pony! That’s rich. You’re in Equestria, buddy. Ponies are the best there is! Why do you think the planet’s name is Equis? Bam!"

"Can’t argue with that," I said, wiping a tear of laughter from my eye. "Except maybe dragons. Or griffons. Or... I dunno, owls?" I glanced at Aldin, who blinked at me with disdain.

Shining Armor drunkenly slapped the table with a hoof. "Hey, don’t knock owls! They’re... they’re wise or something. Like, really wise."

"Yeah, Aldin’s got all the wisdom," I agreed, patting the little owl on the head. Aldin huffed and his feathers fluffed up. He was clearly unimpressed with our antics.

I shot a look at the clock hanging from the wall. It was nearing midnight. Oh no.

"Hey," I said, jabbing at Shining with an elbow of friendship. "It's getting late. We should probably get you home before Cadance comes looking for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Shining muttered, trying to stand up but wobbling like a newborn foal. "Just one more drink..."

"Come on, Shiny," I said clambering to my feet and helping him up. "Let's get you back to your fiancée."

Laughing and leaning on each other to not face plant. Shining and I stumbled our way out of the Golden Horseshoe. The cool night air provided a refreshing contrast to the bar's warmth, as the usually lively streets of Canterlot now lay hushed, save for the echoing sound of our footsteps in the quiet night.

Shining Armor draped a hoof over my shoulder, and we began our unsteady, drunken journey back to the castle. Aldin flew ahead, his silent wings cutting through the night as he led the way with a patience I could only admire.

"Hey, Seb," Shining mumbled as we navigated the darkened streets. "Did I ever tell you... 'bout the time I fought an alpha timberwolf?"

"Can’t say you have," I replied, doing my best to keep us both from toppling over. "But now’s as good a time as any."

"It was... it was huge," Shining said, stretching his hooves wide in a clumsy gesture. "Big wooden head, sharp teeth, and I was all like, ‘Not today, wolf!’ And it was like, ‘Roar!’ But I like, totally beat it."

"Wow," I said, grinning. "You’re a real hero, Shining. Quite the knight in ‘Shining Armor’!"

He puffed out his chest proudly, completely missing the pun. "Darn right. And you... you’re pretty awesome too. I mean, you’re a drunk on two legs! That’s... that’s something special."

I chuckled, slinging an arm around him to keep ourselves steady. "Thanks, man. Now, which way to Cadance’s room?"

Shining squinted down the corridor, swaying slightly as he tried to focus. "That way," he said with booze-fueled certainty, pointing a hoof directly at a nearby wall.

Aldin, ever the voice of reason, fluttered to my other shoulder, his weight a comforting presence as we navigated the castle’s labyrinthine halls. Every few steps, Shining would pause, squinting at his surroundings as if the walls might shift and guide him. I did my best to keep us on course. Despite my best efforts we occasionally would take detours into walls, columns, and once a rather startled guard who wisely chose not to comment.

Our laughter echoed through the thankfully empty hallways. After what felt like an eternity of drunken stumbling, we finally arrived at a set of double doors with the engravings of hearts covering its surfaces. Shining grinned, his expression becoming one of relief and triumph. "This is it! Cadance’s room."

I helped him steady himself, making a half-hearted attempt to smooth out his disheveled mane. "Alright, buddy. Time to see your girl."

The doors swung open, and there stood Cadance, her expression a mix of relief and amusement. "Shining, you're back," she said warmly.

"Cadance!" Shining exclaimed, staggering forward and nearly tripping over his own hooves. "Told you I’d be back."

She caught him with her magic, her smile softening into something more tender. "You certainly did. And who do I have to thank for bringing him back in one piece?"

"That would be me," I said, attempting a small, unsteady bow. "Just doing my duty as a friend."

Cadance laughed softly. "Well, thank you, Sebastian. I’ll take it from here."

As she guided Shining further into the room, I turned to leave. As I drunkenly fumbled with the door, I could hear Cadance’s voice drop to a sultry whisper. "You know, Shining, I’ve been waiting for you."

Oh… oh no.

I froze, glancing back just in time to see her leading him toward the bed, her intentions crystal clear, even through my alcohol-fogged mind. A leash floated beside her in her magical grip — and the room was notably devoid of any actual pets.

Shining’s eyes widened, his dopey grin returning as he followed her. "Really?"

"Really," she purred, pulling him closer to the bed.

Within my mind, I screamed.

A temporary bout of soberness blessed me with the steady hands and mind to find out how to get through the doorway. I quickly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind me just as the sounds of their overly passionate reunion began to spill out. I hurried down the hall, trying — and failing — to suppress a fit of drunken laughter that bubbled up from deep within me.

"Well, best-buddy," I slurred to Aldin, who responded with a soft hoot, "I’d say our mission is accomplished. Now, let's find our way back to our room without getting hopelessly lost."

The castle's labyrinthine halls seemed more winding than ever, my vision blurred as I wobbled forward. Trusting in Aldin’s sobriety to guide me, I followed his fluttering silhouette, trying to stay upright while the world tilted beneath my feet.

Everything around me seemed to spin, the ornate tapestries and polished stone blurring together as my footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet of night. Aldin flew ahead, his path steady while I stumbled and chuckled to myself about Shining Armor, Cadance, and leashes.

As I rounded a corner, lost in my own drunken thoughts, I nearly collided with a figure who seemed to materialize out of the shadows. Blinking to focus, I realized it was Luna.

"Sebastian," she said, her voice tinged with surprise. "Are you ok?"

"Luna!" I exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across my face. "Better than ok! I was just, uh, helping Shining Armor find his way back to Cadance. They’re... they’re fuckin’ right now!"

I snickered, unable to hold back my laughter.

Luna raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "I see. And it appears you've indulged in some drinks."

"Yup! The Golden Horseshoe," I said, nodding enthusiastically. "Great place. You should try drinking sometime! Bet you’d make a fantastic drunk!"

She chuckled softly. "Perhaps. But for now, I think you need to rest. You’re quite... inebriated."

"In-ebri... what now?" I slurred, leaning against the wall for support. "Oh, you mean drunk! Yep, definitely drunk."

Luna's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Indeed. It seems you could use some help finding your way back to your quarters."

"Probably," I admitted, swaying slightly. "These halls are... very twisty."

She stepped closer, her presence both calming and captivating. "Allow me to assist you, then."

I nodded ever grateful for her help in this drunken march. I must have drank more than I thought, because I found myself admiring her features far more than normal. Something about the way the moonlight accentuated her already stunning features. "You know, Luna," I said, words slurring slightly, "you’re really pretty. Like, really pretty."

She raised an eyebrow, a small smile adorning her. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," I continued, my drunken honesty in full swing. "You’re like... a goddess of the night or something. And you’re nice. And smart. And you smell good."

As she guided me through the halls, I kept rambling. "You know, Luna, you're... you're amazing. Like, really amazing. And your mane is... it's so shiny! And your eyes... wow."

Luna chuckled softly, a faint pink tinge coloring her cheeks. "Thank you, Sebastian. I appreciate your compliments."

"No problem," I said, nearly tripping over my own feet. "Anything for you."

We continued down the corridor, my drunken ramblings filling the silence. "You’re also really smart. And powerful. And just... really cool. Did I mention pretty? Because you’re really, really pretty."

"Yes, you mentioned that," she laughed, a melodious sound that made my heart feel lighter. "Thank you, Sebastian. That’s very kind of you to say."

"It’s true," I insisted, stumbling a bit and grabbing onto her for support. "And you’ve been really good to me. Helping me with... everything."

She steadied me, her touch gentle and reassuring. "It’s been my pleasure, Sebastian. You’ve proven to be a wonderful apprentice."

"You mean it?" I asked, my eyes wide and hopeful despite my slurred speech. "I just want to make you proud."

"You already have," Luna said softly. "You’ve come a long way in a short time."

"Really?" I asked, my eyes wide with surprise. "I suppose that makes sense. You’re like, the best mentor ever. And a great friend too."

Luna’s expression softened, and she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Thank you. I value our friendship as well."

"You know," I said, leaning a bit more on her for support, "we should hang out. Have some fun. Whatever you want to do. Doesn’t have to be sparring or magic stuff. Could be anything. Just... you and me, having a good ol’ time."

Luna’s expression softened, and she looked thoughtful for a moment. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Sebastian. I’d love that."

"Awesome," I said, grinning. "We can... go stargazing. Or... explore the castle. Whatever you want. Just something fun."

Luna chuckled softly. "We shall see. But for now, let’s get you to bed."

We finally reached my room, and Luna helped me fumble with the Arcane Locked door. As it swung open, I turned to her with a goofy grin. "Thanks for walking me back and putting up with me being... well, drunk. You’re a real saint."

"You're welcome, Sebastian," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Luna," I said, watching her leave before flopping onto my bed with a contented sigh. Aldin settled into his nest on the bookshelves, and I drifted off to sleep, a smile still on my face.

Dreams of leashes, alcohol, and winding hallways awaited me.

Strength

The castle grounds at twilight was a canvas of shifting shadows, the last vestiges of sunlight fading as the moon began its ascent. The cool evening air held a stillness that seemed to magnify every sound — the rustle of leaves, the distant clink of armor, the soft murmur of those who had gathered to watch.

In the early hours of dusk, the sparring grounds occasionally drew a small audience. The curious, the dutiful, and the ambitious — castle staff, a few Solar Guards on break, and the occasional noble hoping to curry favor with one of the princesses. They lingered for a time, perhaps entertained by the sight of the human trying to match Princess Luna in combat. But they always left before long, their interest waning, their duties calling, or simply too tired to witness another inevitable defeat.

It did not matter to me why they came or why they left, just that they left. Because that is when the real training begins. When the prying eyes were gone, leaving only Luna, Aldin, and I in the moonlit sparring grounds.

In our dance of wooden practice swords, I always tried to keep pace with her. I always fell short.

It wasn’t for lack of effort. I pushed myself with every ounce of will I could muster, but Luna was simply too much — faster, stronger, her movements a blur even when she held back. And she always held back. She tempered her power, giving me the space to learn, to improve, rather than reducing me to a mere punching bag.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale light over the sparring grounds. The shadows danced around us, flickering in time with the sharp, ringing clash of our practice swords. Luna’s magic held her blade with effortless precision, its movements controlled and deliberate, yet never reaching beyond what her physical form could achieve. She had imposed this handicap on herself to give me a fighting chance, but even then, it felt like I was battling a force of nature.

My breathing was ragged, my muscles protesting with every swing of my sword. Sweat dripped down my brow, stinging my eyes, but I kept my focus on Luna, refusing to yield. She moved with a grace and fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly, her dark mane flowing like a river of stars as she parried my attacks with ease.

“Your form has improved, Sebastian,” Luna said, her voice calm and measured, though there was a glint of something in her eyes — something like pride, or perhaps amusement. “But you still telegraph your movements. I can see your intentions before you act upon them.”

I gritted my teeth, trying to mask the frustration that threatened to surface. She was right of course. Every strike and feint I attempted was proof of it. With each swing of my practice sword I was met with counter after counter. The gap between us was so significant that it felt as though she could read me like a book.

“Thanks for the tip,” I muttered as I began circling her. I was searching in vain for an opening that I knew would never show. Although my body screamed out in protest, I refused to let that stop me from trying. I needed to find a way through her guard.

Luna’s smile was subtle, nearly playful. It was as if she was toying with me. “You have the spirit, Sebastian. I’ll give you that, but spirit alone does not win battles.”

I lunged forward, aiming a quick strike at her side, hoping to catch her off guard. But she moved with lightning speed, her practice sword meeting mine with a sharp crack that reverberated through the air. The force of her block sent a jolt up my arm, nearly knocking my weapon from my grip.

“Too slow,” she said almost teasingly.

The words stung. Not because they were meant to wound my pride or ego, but because they were true. I couldn’t hope to keep up with Luna. Not in speed, not in strength, and certainly not in skill. But I wouldn’t back down. Not yet.

I pivoted on my heel, swinging my sword in a wide arc, hoping to catch her off balance. Luna sidestepped effortlessly, her blade coming up to tap my shoulder with a quick, controlled strike. It wasn’t a hard hit — just enough to let me know she could have ended the fight right there if she wanted to.

“Focus, Sebastian,” Luna’s voice was firm, yet there was a note of something else in it — concern, perhaps? “You can not afford to be reckless.”

I nodded.

Swallowing down the frustration that bubbled up within me, I forced myself to refocus on the task at hand. Luna was teaching me to improve. I knew that of course. But there was something else in her tone, a subtle edge that I couldn’t quite place an edge that I never heard before. As though she didn’t want me to fail. As though she needed me to succeed.

We continued our dance, the sounds of our swords clashing filling the night air. Luna was relentless in her swordplay. Her strikes were coming faster now. Each swing of her blade pushed me ever closer to my limits. I could feel my strength beginning to wane as my movements were beginning to grow ever sluggish. But I was nowhere near close to wanting to stop.

There was something exhilarating about this. Fighting against an opponent who was so far above me that really got my blood flowing.

A part of me wondered if Luna was enjoying this like I am. There was a fire in her eyes that I had never seen before. A focus that bordered upon the obsessive. The way she moved, the way her eyes latched onto my own. It was as though she was pouring all of her stresses, her worries, into this moment of limited violence.

Luna’s sword whipped out and caught me well off my guard. The blow rang true and the impact knocked the wind out of me. I stumbled back thoroughly stunned and barely managing to keep my footing. She didn’t press her advantage. Instead, Luna stepped back and granted me a moment of reprieve.

I was panting heavily with my chest heaving with the effort of standing. I looked up, and found myself caught in her gaze. Her expression was absent of gloating or smugness. Just a calm, steady look that spoke of control — both over herself and over our fight. And yet, I could almost see something in her eyes. Something was there just beneath the surface of that calm exterior. I just couldn't quite put my finger on it.

“That will be enough for tonight,” Luna said finally, lowering her practice sword. Her tone was gentle, but there was an unspoken finality to it. “You have done well, but you must know when to rest.”

I nodded. I was simply too exhausted to argue. My limbs felt heavier than they should, and my breaths were coming in shallow gasps. I knew I was beaten. Although the sting of defeat was present there was a certain satisfaction I found in this loss. I had pushed myself, and though I had failed to land a single hit on her, I had learned, grown some hopefully. That was worth something.

Luna dismissed her practice sword with a flick of her magic, the blade disappearing into the ether as if it had never existed. She stepped closer to me, her expression softening as she looked me over, as if assessing the damage.

“You are improving, Sebastian,” she said quietly, her eyes locking onto mine. “But do not push yourself too hard. There is no shame in pacing oneself.”

I smiled wryly, brushing the sweat from my brow. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her gaze lingered affixed to me. I could see the shadow of worry there. It was fleeting, but it left me wondering. Before I could dwell on it, Luna’s expression shifted back to the playful calm I had grown accustomed to.

“I’m going to fetch some water. Care to join me?”

Luna nodded, falling into step beside me as we walked toward the small pavilion at the edge of the sparring grounds. The heat I had built up from our sparring was slowly being choked out from the cooling night air. I watched her from the corner of my eye. She carried herself with the same poise and control I had seen near the end of our bout. But there was a contentment about her that was new. She was satisfied.

“You’ve really good at this, you know,” I broke the silence as we reached the pavilion. I scooped up a ladle and filled a cup with water, handing it off to Luna before taking one for myself. “I mean, I know you’re a princess and all, so you got that alicorn boost going on. But you are an amazing fighter.”

Luna accepted the cup with a nod, a small smile playing on her lips. “It is not just a matter of skill, Sebastian. It is discipline, patience, and a willingness to learn from every encounter. I see those same qualities in you as well.”

I took a long pull, letting the cool water soothe my parched ass throat. “You're a good teacher, Luna. I never expected to learn so much.”

She seemed to mull over my words, her expression thoughtful. “It is… gratifying to know that my efforts are appreciated.” There was a brief pause before she added, “And that you have stayed.”

“Why wouldn’t I?" I frowned slightly, not entirely sure what she meant. "I mean, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Her eyes shifted away from me. She seemed to find something out in the night as better to look at. “Many would have given up. They would have chosen an easier path.”

There was something in her tone. A intensity of sorts that made me feel like there was more she wasn’t saying, some hidden layer of meaning I couldn't catch on to. I thought about asking, but the moment passed.

“You are more resilient than most,” she said, approval coating her voice.

I shrugged. A bit flustered by the praise. “Or just too stubborn to know when to quit.”

Luna’s smile widened at that and it seemed to lift her mood some. “Stubbornness can be a virtue, in moderation of course.”

A moment of silence fell upon us. Through the branches of some nearby trees outside the boundaries of the sparring ground, came the breeze. Moonlight from her moon graced the pavilion with a gentle glow. Long shadows stretched out across the ground, painting us in an almost monochrome light.

Luna’s voice broke the stillness. “I often wonder, Sebastian, what drives you to push yourself so hard. You are not like the warriors of old, those who sought glory and conquest. Your heart is different.”

That took me by surprise. I did not expect the moment to turn towards this. I began to respond with some terrible joke, but I stopped myself when my mind registered the earnestness that inlaid her words.

I took a moment, and turned my eyes toward the night sky. Naturally, my gaze became drawn to the moon as I gave my reply, "I want to be strong. Strong enough to protect those I care about. Back on Earth stories tend to follow a pattern. A villain rises, some tragedy occurs that needs to be overcome. And, well, back on Earth I used to be one of those who spun the stories. But now it almost feels like I'm living in one."

Luna’s gaze never left mine, her eyes dark and reflective as if absorbing every word. I continued, feeling the weight of my thoughts unraveling.

“This world, Equis… it’s so different from Earth. But at the same time it’s like all those stories I love. There’s magic, the possibility of danger, and—” I stopped. I wasn't sure if I should say it, but I found myself almost eager to share my thoughts with her. “And there is always a chance that something could go wrong. I want to be ready for that, to be strong enough to face whatever goes wrong. With my magic I feel that I can be strong enough that I don’t lose anyone.”

A small silence settled between us, the kind that felt heavier than spoken words. Luna’s expression softened at my words. There was something in her eyes, the fleeting shadow of… was it fear? But, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and was quickly replaced by her usual calm demeanor.

“Equis is a world of many possibilities, both wonderful and perilous,” she said, her voice gentle. “But strength alone is not always the answer. It is important, yes, but so is understanding, compassion, and the willingness to rely on others.”

I looked down at my hands. Calluses had begun forming from countless hours of training. “I know that. Or at least I’m trying to. But, it’s hard not to feel like I should handle everything myself. Sometimes I feel like I have to be the one who’s ready for when the time comes.”

Luna stepped closer, her presence warm in the cool night air. “You are not alone, Sebastian. You have me, and others who care for you. We have already agreed to be there for each other, have we not?”

I nodded in agreement. From deep in my core, arose a strange mixture of comfort and something that felt odd, but not unwelcomed. There was something about the way she said 'me' that felt almost possessive. I pushed the thought down and away. It must have been more exhausted than I first thought.

“I know,” I said, meeting her gaze again. “And I’m grateful for that. Really, I am. I just… sometimes it’s hard to let go of that need to be ready for anything.”

Luna’s expression remained soft, but there was an intensity in her eyes that made my breath catch for a moment. “You must remember, Sebastian, that readiness is not only about strength. It is also about trust. Trust in those around you and trust in yourself. You are stronger than you realize. Strong in the ways that may not seem apparent.”

I smiled a little, appreciating her words more than I could express. “Thanks, Luna. I’ll try to remember that.”

Bringing my cup to my lips, I pulled deep until my thirst was adequately quenched. Setting down my now empty cup beside the ladle, we stood there for a few moments more. The silence between us more comfortable now than before.

“So,” Luna’s voice broke the stillness again, but this time her tone was laced with mischief. “Do you remember what you said to me the other night? When you were very, very drunk?”

I hesitated, the memory blurred but not entirely lost. I scratched at the side of my head, trying to piece together the fragmented recollections. “I… vaguely remember some things. Why? What did I say?”

A playful grin spread across her face. “Oh, you were quite the charmer, my dear apprentice. You called me the ‘goddess of the night’ — quite the compliment coming from you.”

Heat rushed to my face, my cheeks deciding to betray me. “Did I really say that?”

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, her smile widening with amusement. “You also told me I was really nice and smart, that I smelled good, and that I was, quote, ‘really pretty. Like, really pretty.’”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Oh no… I was that drunk...”

“Indeed,” Luna replied, her tone teasing but still gentle. “You also mentioned that I was amazing, had a shiny mane, and beautiful eyes. Quite the list of compliments.”

Peeking at her through my fingers, I couldn’t shake off the lingering embarrassment. “Well, I guess alcohol makes me honest…”

Luna’s smile softened, a warmth in her eyes that put me a bit more at ease. “I appreciate your honesty, Sebastian. It’s one of your more endearing qualities.”

“Endearing, huh?” I said, lowering my hands and managing a sheepish smile. “I suppose there are worse things to be known for.”

"Honesty is a good trait, but that's not all you said."

I braced myself, curiosity and apprehension mixing in my chest. "Oh no… what else did I say?"

"You told me that you wanted to make me proud," she continued. Her voice dipping into a more tender tone. "And you have, you know."

Pride surged within me at her words, but I couldn’t help but chuckle. "I must have been really hammered to get that sappy."

"Perhaps," Luna teased, her voice laced with amusement, "or perhaps you were simply letting your true feelings show."

I shrugged, a lopsided grin sat upon my lips. "Could be. But I’m much more composed tonight."

Luna's mischief turned to curiosity. She tilted her head slightly, the moonlight catching the delicate strands of her mane as it flowed on its ethereal winds. I couldn't help but wonder what those strands felt like. "In that case, my dear apprentice, why don’t you show me how your magic is progressing? I’m curious to see how far your magic has come."

Aldin hooted softly from his perch on a nearby branch, his large amber eyes reflecting the moonlight. I could feel his excitement through our bond, Aldin enjoyed watching me throw magic around almost as much as I enjoyed casting.

“Alright,” I said, nodding as I turned to face the sparring grounds. A row of pony-shaped target dummies stood in the distance, their lifeless forms waiting to bear the brunt of my spells. “Let’s start with something simple.”

I extended my hand, focusing on the ground beneath my feet. The air around us seemed to hum with latent energy as I began to speak the necessary incantations and made the arcane motions with my right hand. I envisioned the spell in my mind — a Stone Discus, sharp and unyielding. The earth trembled slightly as the ground responded to my will, and with a sharp motion of my hand, a disc of solid stone rose from the earth.

The discus hovered in the air for a moment, suspended by my magic. With a flick of my wrist, I sent it hurtling toward the nearest target dummy. The stone spun rapidly, whistling through the night air before it collided with a dummy’s neck. The impact was brutal and my aim was true, the force of the discus decapitating the target in one clean motion. The dummy’s head tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, leaving the headless target swaying slightly in the aftermath.

Aldin flapped his wings, letting out an excited hoot as he watched the dummy lose its head. I could feel his pride, his satisfaction.

Note to self: Aldin is a fan of decapitations.

Luna, however, remained silent, her gaze intense as she studied the fallen dummy. She stepped closer, her hoofsteps soft against the grass, and I could see a flicker of something akin to surprise in her eyes. “Impressive, Sebastian. The precision, the control… most combat mages require years to reach this level of aptitude without it being their special talent.”

“Thanks,” I replied, trying to mask the joy that spread through my chest at her praise. “I suppose we could chalk it up to the differences in our magic?”

I turned my attention back to the decapitated dummy, its headless form still standing, though now it served as the perfect target for my next spell. The incantation for Scorching Ray flowed from my lips like molten lava, and I felt the heat building in my hand, gathering in the palm of my hand.

With one swift motion, I extended my hand and unleashed a searing beam of fire. The scorching ray streaked through the night air, carving a blazing trail before slamming into the dummy's chest. The impact was instantaneous — the torso erupted in flames, the straw and cloth consumed within seconds. Intense heat washed over me as the fire ravaged the target, leaving behind a charred, smoldering ruin.

Aldin let out another hoot, this one filled with an almost gleeful satisfaction. I could feel his exhilaration through our link.

Decapitation and immolation. Maybe Aldin just likes it when I destroy stuff?

Luna approached the burning dummy, her expression thoughtful as she watched the flames dance. The firelight danced in her eyes. After a moment, she turned to me, a smile gracing her lips. “Your magic is truly something to behold, Sebastian. There’s a strength within you that grows with each passing day.”

I could feel the flush of pride in my chest, but I forced myself to remain humble. Can’t let the power go to my head, inflated egos tend to lead to hubris. “What can I say? I have the best teacher,” I said, meeting her gaze.

She chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Perhaps. But it is your own free will and spirit that have brought you this far. I can only provide guidance. You must walk the path.”

I smiled. I found myself surprised at just how much her words meant to me. But before I could ponder further, I noticed a slight shift in her expression. Her attention drifted upward, toward the star-filled sky. She took up a thoughtful expression. As if some memory had surfaced unbidden, one that brought with it a cocktail of emotions.

“Sebastian,” Luna began, her voice almost hesitant, “do you remember what else you said to me when you were inebriated?”

I furrowed my brow. Trying my hardest to recall the haze that was that night. The night was a blur of fragmented conversation and fleeting moments of clarity. “I think… I think I might have mentioned something about wanting to do something fun with you? Stargazing, I think it was?”

Luna’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and she nodded. “Yes, you did. You suggested we go stargazing… or explore the castle, whichever I preferred.”

Aldin hooted quietly, as if urging me to agree. I couldn’t help but smile at that hazy memory. In spite of the embarrassment that came with it. “Well, I'm still for stargazing if you're offering.”

Luna’s eyes lit up with a spark of enthusiasm that warmed my heart. “Stargazing it is, then.”

Aldin fluttered to a nearby branch, his wings rustling softly as he found a comfortable perch. I watched him settle down, feeling a flicker of excitement within our bond. He was eager about something.

“Come,” Luna said, her voice soft but carrying a certain command. She led the way to a small clearing at the edge of the sparring grounds. There the grass grew thick and soft underfoot. It was the perfect spot for stargazing.

I followed her lead an odd mixture of nervousness and anticipation rising in my core. It was all so confusing, this was all just a friendly stargazing session after all. As we reached the clearing, Luna lowered herself onto the grass, her graceful form folding effortlessly. She looked up at me with a smile, her eyes reflecting the stars above. “Lie down beside me, Sebastian. The view is better from here.”

I hesitated for only a moment before joining her. I took up a spot beside her on the grass. The cool blades of grass felt oh so refreshing against my skin. I the earth was firm beneath me as I laid back and took in the open sky above us.

"Equis' night has so many more stars than Earth's," I said not even trying to hide my awe.

The night sky on Equis was different from anything I had known on Earth. The constellations were unfamiliar and far more abundant, their patterns foreign and wonderful. I felt like this was the first time I had ever truly seen the stars. Each pinprick of starlight felt like some sort of mystery waiting to be unraveled. I was fortunate to have someone who happened to know so much about them nearby.

Luna shifted beside me, her presence a comforting warmth in the cool night air. She pointed a hoof toward the sky, her voice soft and filled with a quiet joy. “Let me show you.”

I turned my head slightly to watch her, my gaze following the direction of her hoof. She pointed to a cluster of stars that formed a delicate, branching pattern. “That,” Luna began, “is the Tree of Harmony. It’s one of the most well known and revered constellations in Equestrian lore. It symbolizes balance and unity.”

I stared up at the constellations. I tried my best to take in their intricate designs. The stars pulsed with a gentle light, as if they were alive with the very same magic that flowed through Equis. “It’s beautiful,” I said as a sense of true awe wash over me.

Luna smiled at me, as it seemed that my words pleased her. “It is. The Tree of Harmony represents the harmony between all living beings. The constellation is a representation of that balance. It is a guiding light for those who seek to maintain peace and order.”

As she spoke, I felt a sense of connection to the land I had come to exist in. The constellations above seemed to tell stories that were woven into the very fabric of Equestria, stories that Luna knew by heart.

As Luna continued, her hoof moved slightly closer to me, her presence more tangible. “The stars have always been a comfort to me,” she admitted. “During my time on the moon, I was alone. The stars were my only companions then. I would speak to them, name them, and find solace in their light.”

My heart ached at those words. I very much disliked the idea of Luna experiencing loneliness. She rarely if ever spoke of her time on the moon, but I could tell it was not a pleasant time. That thought in this moment gave me an overwhelming desire to reach out to her. To let her know that I wouldn't let her slip into loneliness again.

But I was unsure of how or if I even could bridge that gap between us. Instead I focused on the stars in the sky above us. I tried to imagine what it must have been like for her to sit there on the moon with only these stars as company.

“The stars must have meant everything to you."

“They did,” Luna replied, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. “And they still do. But now, I no longer have to watch them alone.”

Luna continued to point out the various different constellations. Her voice took on a level of passion that I never heard before. I was captivated by the way she spoke of each constellation. A certain familiarity filled her voice. The Navigator, a guiding light for travelers; the Dreamweaver, known for bringing sweet dreams to those who slept under its light.

As Luna shared her knowledge of the stars, I noticed how she spoke of them. She spoke of the stars if each star held a piece of her heart. The more she spoke, the more I felt like I was seeing a side of her that she kept hidden. A side that was gentle, nurturing, and full of love for the night sky that was only hers.

“The Dreamweaver,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the delicate pattern of stars above us. “It is said that those who gaze upon it will have their wishes granted in their dreams. The Dreamweaver is one of my favorites.”

Her words hung in the air between us, and I found myself staring at the constellation she had pointed out. The stars seemed to shimmer with a faint glow, as if they were whispering secrets only Luna could hear.

“It’s… amazing. All of this. It feels like the stars are alive.”

“They are, in a way,” Luna replied, her voice soft. “Every star has a story. Every star holds in it a memory of the past. They watch over us, guiding us, and reminding us of the balance that must be maintained. That is why I cherish them so.”

Her words resonated with something deep within me. I found myself shifting closer to her. Her presence was comforting, and and the more I felt it the more I desired for more. The feathers of her wings almost tickled as they swept across my skin. I could feel the soft brush of her wing as it subtly, almost imperceptibly, touched my side. It was like a tiny slice of heaven.

“Sebastian,” Luna said suddenly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Have you ever felt… truly at peace? As if, in that moment, everything in the world was exactly as it should be?”

I blinked. Her question had caught me off guard. I thought for a moment, considering her words and what I should say back. “I’m not sure, but… if I ever have, I think it might be now.”

Luna turned her gaze from the stars to me with an unreadable expression set on her face. For a moment, we simply stared at each other. I could feel my heart beating faster, a foreign heat began to bubble up, through my chest, and throughout me. There was something about being here with her. Beside her under the vast expanse of her stars, that made me feel… happy. If that was even the right word for this. Like this was where I was meant to be.

Aldin hooted softly from his perch, the sound reminded me of his presence. I couldn’t help but smile. He was as at ease as I was, and through our link, I could feel his joy at being here with us.

“Stargazing,” Luna murmured, her voice thoughtful. “It is a simple pleasure, yet it brings such peace. Perhaps… we could make it a regular occurrence?”

I felt a strange flutter in my chest at her words. A new sensation I couldn’t quite name that felt almost addicting. “I’d like that,” I replied, my voice steady despite the unfamiliar feeling trying to throw a haze over my mind. “It’s nice. Being here with you.”

Luna’s eyes softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw something like relief flicker across her features. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It is.”

The world around us faded into obscurity as we laid side by side. The stars above twinkled brighter as we watched on. A comforting silence enveloped us then.

Luna shifted closer to me. Her wing brushed gently against my side. This time the touch was firmer, and more deliberate. My smile widened, and I leaned into it.

Some voice in the back of my mind questioned it all. Why did I feel so at ease with her? Why is this all so... perfect?

But those questions slipped into the void at Luna's presence. How could I ask those questions when there was the beauty of Luna's night sky to indulge in? Or the peace that had settled over us like some kind of warm blanket?

I allowed myself to truly enjoy the moment. I forgot about becoming stronger. I let go of my need to be ready. I dissolved my fears in the Luna's presence.

As the stars above shone their light for us to see, I could not help but think that maybe — just maybe — this was what true happiness felt like.

Wondrous

In theory, the process is straightforward: gather the necessary materials, shape said materials into a desired vessel for magic, hold the spell’s charge, and, over time, graft that charge into the vessel. Complications to this process typically only arise when a significant enough mistake is made, or for some reason I need to bypass a construction requirement or two. That's when things get a little complicated.

When I first mentioned my intention to craft magical items and detailed the process, Luna seemed surprised. According to her, it takes unicorns years of study and practice to reach the level of mastery required to create such items, and apparently the art of magical item creation was all the rage a thousand years ago. Before the end of the civil war marked the decline of the more militaristic needs of that era.

Luna insisted on bringing high-quality tools and materials into my room, even replacing my desk with a larger one, effectively transforming the space into a dedicated crafting station. With everything set up and the components carefully gathered, I felt a sense of inevitability as I began my work. What might seem complex to others unfolded with an almost effortless clarity, as if every step was a logical extension of the knowledge I had accumulated.

In reality, the process of crafting magical items felt like a combination of instinct and the natural progression of my growing arcane knowledge. Each step of the process was an almost natural feeling, almost like I'd done it before. An echo of Meridin? Or a side effect of countless hours of study? Or maybe… I'm just built different.

First of my creations was the Laurel of Vast Intelligence.

The laurel’s creation began with first recreating Fox's Cunning, a spell that would serve as the foundation for the laurel’s power. After hours of focused effort, the spell was perfected, its essence ready to be captured in the delicate silver leaves of the laurel. The following days were spent weaving this magic into the laurel, each leaf meticulously entwined with threads of arcane brilliance. By the end of the third night, the Laurel of Vast Intelligence was complete.

Next came the Belt of Physical Perfection.

This piece was a more complex endeavor, requiring the recreation of three distinct spells: Bear's Endurance, Bull's Strength, and Cat's Grace. I devoted an entire day to each spell, ensuring they were crafted with the precision demanded by such an intricate item. Once the spells were ready, I began the delicate process of weaving their combined strength into the belt. Each thread of power had to be perfectly balanced, the magic stable and harmonious. Time lost meaning as I labored, but finally, the Belt of Physical Perfection was completed, its power evident immediately upon it being worn.

The last item to be created was the Teashades of Night.

These violet lenses required the Darkvision spell to unlock their full potential. After a few hours of focused spellwork, I turned my attention to crafting the teashades themselves. The infusion of magic was a delicate process, each step demanding patience and care. The days slipped by unnoticed as I worked, and at last, the Teashades of Night were ready, their lenses foggy with arcane energy, granting a constant darkvision effect.

And most importantly: the Teashades of Night also function effectively as shades.

Get fucked sunlight.

Throughout this period of arcane creation, Luna was absorbed in her duties as a princess, leaving me to my own devices and her to an endless stream of paperwork, royal meetings with officials and delegates, and so on. My world shrank to the confines of my room and my new workstation, with Aldin's quiet companionship, and the steady rhythm of my crafting filling my nights and days.

Aldin’s gentle hoots and affectionate nips at my ear were a constant reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone, and that I shouldn’t forget to eat every once in a while. The hours stretched long, but the satisfaction of creating these wondrous items endlessly fueled my relentless determination, driving me to push through any fatigue or doubt.

With each item I crafted, with every spell I perfected, my understanding of the arcane deepened. I began to understand and appreciate how other wizards could isolate themselves for years, even decades, without ever growing bored.

Crafting isn’t just a pursuit; it’s catharsis, a passion.

I now stood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting my gear with unnecessary flares and shirtless flexing a little more than I’d care to admit. But, damn, did it feel good! These items weren’t just proof of my progress — they were a testament to the hours I’d spent honing my spellcraft.

And let’s be real — they looked absolutely baller.

This shit is next-level drip or drown, and right now? I’m floating.

With everything in place, a surge of excitement coursed through me. Luna had been so busy that she’d missed the unveiling of my creations, and I could barely contain my anticipation to show her what I’d accomplished. After tidying up my room and making sure everything was in order, I gathered my things. Aldin perched atop my shoulder, and I gave him a gentle pat.

"Ready to go find Luna, best-buddy?" I asked, my voice brimming with anticipation.

He let out a hoot, and bobbed his head. I took that as a resounding yes.

The castle halls were quiet and dimly lit, as per usual for this time of night. The laurel rested around my head, the belt sat snug around my waist, and the teashades perched on my nasal. I was excited to see Luna's reaction to my creations. Oh, how her eyes would light up! I could practically hear her voice in my mind, full of pride and excitement. Aldin, my ever-faithful companion, hooted softly from his perch on my shoulder, as if sharing in my anticipation.

I should get her to try them on. The thought carved a smile onto me.

I made my way toward the castle library, where Luna and I would often treat it as both an educational locale and a safe haven away from the noise and bustle of city living. Due to the endless streams of paperwork, meetings, and other princessly duties, Luna was thoroughly occupied as of late. For almost two whole weeks. I could only imagine how exhausted she must be. The thought made me even more eager to show her my work — a little something to brighten her day.

We rounded the corner to the library, its heavy wooden door slightly ajar. As I approached, I heard voices from within — familiar voices. I paused, curiosity getting the better of me. Luna and Celestia were deep in conversation, but their tones were far from the usual calm and measured exchanges I was accustomed to.

“We can’t just send him on these missions alone!" Luna’s voice was sharp, filled with a tension I wasn’t used to hearing. "He’s not ready yet. He hasn’t even seen the world beyond Canterlot, let alone faced the dangers out there."

Celestia’s voice was calm but insistent. “Luna, I understand your concerns, but Sebastian has shown great promise. These missions are important, and they require someone with his unique skills. He is capable, and this will be a valuable experience for him.”

“But it’s not just about skill!” Luna shot back. “He’s never been in real combat, never faced the kind of dangers that these missions will throw at him. What if something goes wrong? What if—”

“Luna,” Celestia interrupted gently, “I know you care for him deeply, but you cannot protect him from everything. He needs to face challenges, to grow. We cannot shelter him forever.”

There was a long pause. The tension between the two sent a chill creeping down my spine. I had never considered the possibility that Luna would not want me to go out on missions. I had thought that she would've been happy, proud even, to seen me off into the world to help. But... now I wasn't so sure.

“I can't to lose him, Tia,” Luna finally said, her voice the shadow of a whisper.

Celestia’s tone softened further. “You won’t lose him, Lulu. He’s stronger than you think, and he has you to guide him.”

I felt my chest tighten at Luna’s words. She didn’t want to lose me. It was a revelation that left me unsure of what to do. This was supposed to be a moment of triumph. A moment where Luna and I could share in my progress. A chance to show her how much I’d grown, and that I could do more.

Carefully, I peered inside.

Luna stood facing Celestia, her wings slightly flared in a show of agitation. Celestia’s expression was calm, but there was a hint of something in her eyes — worry, maybe? Or perhaps understanding.

Celestia let out a small sigh and placed a hoof on Luna’s shoulder. “Trust him, Luna. And trust yourself.”

Luna’s wings slowly folded back against her sides, and she nodded, though she still looked troubled. “I just… I don’t want him to be alone out there.”

“He won’t be,” Celestia assured her. “You’ll always be with him. Even if you are not by his side you will be in his heart.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt my heart twist. They were talking about me as if I were already gone, already on those missions. I didn’t want to leave Luna, not when things felt so… uncertain.

Celestia turned to leave, her gaze softening as she looked at her sister. “Take some time, Luna. You’ll know what’s best when the time comes.”

I silently retreated from the door, casting Vanish on myself as I pressed my back against a nearby wall. I waited, pressed against the wall, as Celestia stepped out of the library and walked down the corridor. My Vanish spell held just long enough for me to witness Celestia turn down a hallway and slip away out of sight.

Once I was sure that Celestia was gone I let out a deep breath. My heart was still rattling away in my chest. My mind sent racing with everything I had overheard. I needed to talk to Luna, but how could I? After hearing all that? That conversation between sisters had left me with more questions than could ever find answers. But I couldn't dwell on them now. I had come here for a reason after all. And there was no way in hell I'd let anything ruin that moment.

I straightened up, adjusted the laurel on my head, and took a deep breath before stepping into the library. The grand doors creaked softly as I pushed them open, revealing Luna standing by one of the large windows, her gaze distant as she looked out over the moonlit city. The tension from her argument with Celestia still clung to her, visible in the slight droop of her wings and the furrow in her brow.

“Luna?” I called softly, trying to keep my voice light, as if I hadn’t just heard her fears laid bare.

Luna turned at the sound of my voice, she relaxed some the moment she saw me. “Sebastian,” she greeted, a small smile gracing her lips. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I thought I’d swing by and check up on you,” I said, closing some of the distance between us. “You’ve been so busy lately. It's been hard to find a chance to even say 'hello'.”

Luna’s smile grew, but there was still a shadow in her eyes. “I apologize for my absence. There has been much to attend to.”

I waved off her apology with a gentle shake of my head. "No need to apologize. You’re ruling Equestria alongside Celestia — that’s no small feat! I’m just grateful we even have this small amount of time together. But I wanted to show you something. I’ve been working on a few things.”

That piqued her interest. The weariness in her gaze faded as she tilted her head slightly. “Oh? And what might those be?”

I couldn’t help but smile, the excitement from earlier returning in full force. “Three brand new magical items. My very own creations.” I gestured to the laurel on my head, the teashades on my nose, and the belt around my waist. “The Laurel of Vast Intelligence, the Teashades of Night, and the Belt of Physical Perfection.”

“You made these yourself?”

“Yep,” I said proudly, adjusting the teashades. “It took a little experimentation to figure it out, but I think I'm pretty good at this!”

Luna stepped closer, her interest clear as she examined the items more closely. “These are remarkable, Sebastian. You’ve truly outdone yourself.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my heart swelling with pride at her little compliments. “It took a bit of time, but it was worth it. Crafting these items has broadened my understanding of the arcane. I think I’m almost at the point where I can cast third-level spells.”

Her gaze twitched up to meet mine. There was surprise there. “Already?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a fast learner,” I said with a grin. “Reaching this new level of magic will be a real game-changer. Spells like Fireball, Fly, and others are almost within my grasp now. Not gonna lie, I’ve been looking forward to this for some time. I've always wanted to fly and shoot fireballs.”

Luna seemed to mull over my words. Her expression growing more contemplative the more she thought. “Sebastian, you have come a long way in such a short time. Once you’ve reached those third-level spells… then perhaps it will be time for you to take on some missions.”

My smile dulled a little at that. I knew what she was referring to — the missions Celestia had mentioned. The ones that would take me far from Canterlot, and far from Luna. There was a part of me that was eager to prove myself, to face real challenges and grow even stronger. But there was another part, that wasn’t ready to leave her side.

“I’ll be ready.” I promised.

Luna’s eyes lingered on me. For a moment I thought she might say something more, but instead she simply nodded. “I have no doubt that you will be.”

An awkward silence settled between us, filled with the things left unsaid. I shuffled my feet. My items suddenly felt just a little bit heaver than before.

“Would you like to try them on?” I asked, breaking the silence with a tentative smile. “I mean, you’ve got the whole Night Princess vibe going on. I think they’d suit you well.”

Luna blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in a little curiosity.”

I carefully removed the laurel, the silver leaves catching the light. "This is the Laurel of Vast Intelligence. The name pretty much says it all — it enhances the wearer’s intelligence. It’s simple but effective, and there’s plenty of room for upgrades. Here, give it a try."

Luna leaned forward, allowing me to place the laurel gently on her head. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, her expression shifting from surprise to awe. "I can feel the difference already. This is truly remarkable, Sebastian!"

A wide grin spread across my face as I moved on to the next item. With a bit of flair, I unbuckled my belt and handed it to her. "And this is the Belt of Physical Perfection. It’s the most basic version, but it enhances strength, dexterity, and constitution — plus, it’s a damn sturdy belt."

Luna stood, fastening the belt around her waist. She flexed her wings and limbs, testing the belt’s effects, and delight spread across her face. "Incredible! You’ve truly outdone yourself."

Finally, I handed her the teashades. "And last but not least, these are the Teashades of Night. They grant darkvision up to sixty feet. Not exactly a game-changer for someone like you, who can already see perfectly in the dark, but hey — they’ve got style, right?"

Luna struck a playful pose, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, how do I look?"

For a moment, I was utterly speechless. The combination of her playful demeanor and the way the silver laurel, sturdy belt, and dark-tinted teashades complemented her already regal presence left me dumbfounded. She looked… magnificent. No, the word hardly seemed sufficient. The teashades perched delicately on her muzzle, the laurel resting perfectly atop her flowing mane, and the belt cinched snugly around her waist — it was as if the items were made for her, accentuating her elegance in a way that made me forget myself.

"You… you look incredible," I finally managed to say, my voice betraying the awe I felt.

Luna’s laughter was soft and melodic as she struck another, more exaggerated pose, clearly enjoying the attention. The tension that had filled the room earlier was all but gone now, replaced by a lightheartedness that I wanted to cling to. I had never seen her this playful before, and it made me see her in a new light, one that was both exciting and terrifying.

As she moved, the silver leaves of the laurel caught the light, casting soft glimmers across her midnight-blue coat. Her ethereal mane flowed freely, seemingly unaffected by the items she wore, and the way her eyes sparkled behind the teashades — even partially obscured — was almost hypnotic. I found myself noticing every detail: the delicate curve of her muzzle, the grace with which she held herself, the way her wings unfurled ever so slightly as she settled into a more natural stance.

The longer I looked at her, the more I realized just how beautiful she truly was. It wasn’t just her physical appearance — though that alone was enough to leave me breathless — but the way she carried herself, the confidence mixed with the vulnerability, the wisdom that tempered her playful spirit. She was everything I had admired since arriving in Equestria, and yet, I was only just beginning to see her for who she truly was.

And that realization left me feeling both exhilarated and utterly terrified. I had never felt this way about anyone before, and the thought that these feelings might grow into something deeper was as thrilling as it was daunting. I wasn’t ready to admit it — not to her, and certainly not to myself — but the truth was undeniable. I was falling for her. Hard.

Luna must have noticed my silence because she took a step closer, her expression shifting to one of gentle concern. "Sebastian? Are you alright?"

I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. "Yeah, I’m fine," I replied, a little too quickly. "Just… you really do look amazing, Luna."

Her lips curled into a soft smile, and for a brief moment, there was a tenderness in her gaze that made my chest tighten. She lowered her head slightly, allowing me to see the silver laurel more clearly. "These items you’ve crafted are truly exceptional. You’ve done something quite extraordinary."

"Thanks," I said, my voice quieter now. The weight of my earlier thoughts still hung heavily in the air between us, but I pushed them aside, not wanting to dwell on them just yet. "I’m glad you like them."

With a graceful motion, Luna began to remove the items, starting with the teashades. She used her magic to lift them from her muzzle and gently placed them in my hand. The laurel followed next, its silver leaves catching the light as it left her head, and then the belt, which she unfastened with her hooves before floating it over to me. As each item returned to my possession, the room seemed to settle back into its usual stillness, the playful energy from moments ago now fading into something quieter, more introspective.

"I’ll make sure to upgrade them when I can," I said, carefully equipping the items. "But for now, these are the basics. They’re a decent start, I think."

"They are more than a decent start, my dear apprentice," Luna replied, her voice filled with a warmth that made my heart skip another beat. "You have a talent, one that will serve you well in the future."

I nodded, unsure of how to respond to the sincerity in her words. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t find the right words. Instead, I focused on securing the items, making sure they were properly in place on my person.

When I looked up again, Luna was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. It was as if she was searching for something, something that was hidden away just beyond sight.

"I should let you get back to your duties," I said finally, breaking the silence that had settled over us. "I know you need to lower the moon soon."

Luna nodded, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before she stepped back, her wings folding neatly at her sides. "Yes, the night’s end draws near. But thank you for this, Sebastian. You’ve given me something to smile about tonight."

I managed a small smile in return, I did enjoy giving her something to smile about. Her smiles are the best. "Anytime, Luna. I’m glad I could help."

With a final nod, I turned and headed for the door, my mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions. As I reached the threshold, I paused and glanced back at her. She was already moving toward the window, her silhouette bathed in the soft light of the moon she would soon lower. For a moment, I just watched her, struck once more by her beauty, her strength, and the deep sense of connection that I couldn’t quite explain.

Then, before I could let myself dwell on it any longer, and risk being trapped in that bout of reverie again, I stepped out of the library and closed the door softly behind me.

Rain

Rain hammered against my room’s windows. Each drop added to the rhythmic drumming that had filled my room. This storm was of the sort that reduced the world to a hazy blur. The world outside my room obscured in sheets of rain.

I sat at my desk. Before me sat my spellbook. Its pages still aglow from freshly inscribed spells. Fireball, Summon Monster III, and Fly — each one represented the new level of power I’ve reached, a new set of possibilities. But despite the excitement of reaching third-level spells, my thoughts were elsewhere.

Aldin, my ever-faithful owl companion, was perched on the back of my chair, his feathers slightly ruffled from the humidity in the room. He was unusually quiet, his large eyes focused on the rain outside. I understood the sentiment well. He loved the rain just as much as I do. And tonight the rain was coming down far harder than any other night we’ve had on Equis. It was a near torrential downpour at this point. The downpour made the castle feel like it was afloat in an endless sea of mist.

“Hey, best-buddy,” I said, breaking the silence, “you enjoying the storm?”

Aldin turned his head slowly towards me. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. It gave him the look of contemplation. He blinked once… twice... then made a low hoot. Then a series of clicks and trills flowed from him. All of that was well and good, but the part that threw me off was that it all was understandable. I understood him.

“‘Enjoying’? You could say that,” Aldin replied, his voice a mix of youthful energy and an underlying, almost ancient wisdom. His speech was an odd blend of hoots and clicks, but to me, it was as clear as if he’d spoken plain words. “You know how I feel about the rain, Seb.”

I froze, my quill hovering above the page. “Did you just — did you just talk?”

With a ruffle of feathers, Aldin shot me look that could only be described as amused. “Took you long enough to notice. What, you think I was just going to sit here and hoot all my life? Nah. I’ve got things to say.”

I blinked. I tried to wrap my head around the fact that my owl was having a normal conversation with me. “When did this — how did this—”

“Relax, Seb,” Aldin interrupted with a soft chuff that sounded almost like a laugh. “We both knew this was coming. Didn’t know when, but hey, here we are. I guess reaching those third-level spells gave me the nudge I needed.”

I leaned back in my chair. My mind still in the process of catching up to the situation. “So you’re saying that you have been waiting for this?”

Aldin bobbed his head. Through our link I felt a fluctuation of emotion: mischief. “Yep. It was only a matter of time. And now that I can talk, you better be ready. Because I have got a lot of strong opinions on matters.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The shock of the situation having worn off enough for me to start appreciating the humor of it all. “Of course you do. Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

“Damn right,” Aldin replied, fluffing his feathers in satisfaction. “And by the way, nice job on those spells. Fireball, Summon Monster III, and Fly. Not bad choices. Not bad at all. Although I will be honest, I’m more looking forward to seeing you actually cast them. Writing them down is one thing, but using them? That’s where the fun begins.”

I smiled. A swell of pride arose in my chest at his words. “Yeah, I’m pretty excited to throw spells about too. This was a long time coming. And I have been working hard to reach this point with my magic.”

“Hard work pays off,” Aldin said with a knowing hoot. “But don’t forget to enjoy it too. You’re always so serious, Seb. Lighten up a bit. Life is too short to spend it all with your nose buried in a book.”

“Coming from the owl who loves to watch me do just that,” I teased as I reached up to gently scratch at the top of his head.

Aldin leaned into the touch. For a moment he closed his eyes before opening them again to speak on. “Hey, someone’s got to make sure you don’t burn yourself out. Plus, I’ve grown fond of your ramblings about magic. It’s… comforting.”

There was a warmth in his voice that caught me off guard, a reminder of the bond we shared. I’d always known Aldin was more than just a companion, but hearing him speak like this brought it all into sharper focus.

“I appreciate that,” I said quietly, my hand lingering on his feathers. “I really do.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the rain filling the room. The significance of the past few days was bearing down on my mind. My growing feelings for Luna. My uncertainty of the future. This new development with Aldin. This was all a lot to take in.

“So,” Aldin said, breaking the silence with a soft hoot, “what’s next, Seb? You’ve got your third-level spells. You’ve got me, now with the gift of gab. What’s the plan?”

A sigh escaped me as I leaned back in my chair. My gaze wandered toward the rain-soaked world beyond the pane of glass that constituted my room's window. “I don’t know, best-buddy. There is so much going on. Luna… she might be sending me on missions soon. Dangerous ones. I’m not supposed to know, but I overheard her talking to Celestia.”

Aldin was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he processed what I’d said. “Missions, huh? Sounds like they’re ready to see what you’re made of. You worried?”

“Yeah,” I admitted in a hushed tone. “I am. Not about the missions themselves — I know I can handle those. But… leaving. Leaving her alone.”

Aldin tilted his head slightly. “You care about her a lot, don’t you?”

I nodded. The admission felt harder to admit than I expected. “Yeah. I do.”

Aldin let out a soft hoot. A comforting sound that made my tension ease just a little. “Then do what you’ve always done, Seb. Prepare. Get stronger. But don’t forget to be there for her too. You’re not just a wizard, you’re her friend. Maybe more than that. But that is for you two to figure out. Not me. I'm just an owl.”

I looked at him. A small smile on my face. “You’re a wise little owl, you know that?”

Aldin puffed out his chest, his tone teasing but with a note of sincerity. “Damn right I am. Now, how about we take a break from all this heavy talk and just enjoy the rain?”

I smiled, nodding as I turned my attention to the balcony, the storm outside raging on. “Sounds like a plan, best-buddy. Sounds like a plan.”

I pushed the balcony door open. The cool, damp outside air washed over us. With the door now ajar, the sound of rain intensified and the rhythmic drumming grew louder as the wind whipped through the now open space. From atop my head Aldin was momentarily buffeted by the breeze as we stepped out into that great downpour.

The rain was relentless in its intensity. Each drop was cold and sharp against my skin. I was soaked through my clothes immediately. Instead of retreating back into my room, I decided to embrace it. I tilted my head back to let the water cascade over my face. Aldin followed suite and spread his wings wide, allowing the rain to thoroughly drench his feathers. Through our link I could feel his joy, and I was sure that he could feel mine.

“This is what life’s all about, Seb,” Aldin spoke with a mix of contentment and something deeper that almost sounded like reverence. “Moments like these. Where everything else fades away, and it’s just you and the rain.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as I breathed in the fresh, earthy scent that always accompanied a heavy storm. “Yeah. I get that.”

We stood there for what felt like hours, though it could have been minutes or days for all I cared. The world was reduced to the sounds of the rain, the feel of it soaking us to the bone, and the occasional roll of distant thunder. The rain cleansed my mind. My worries and uncertainties were swept away by the downpour. Something akin to peace settled into me.

Aldin claws dug into my hair as he hunkered down against the winds. “You know, Seb, there’s something about a storm that makes everything feel… realer. Like the rain washes away all the nonsense, leaves only what matters.”

I opened my eyes. From our vantage point I could bear witness to the sheets of rain falling out in the haze. Canterlot was a blur of lights and shadows. Up here we were in a world apart. We were untouched by anything outside our little balcony.

“I think you’re right,” my words felt truer than I expected. “Sometimes you just need to get a little soaked to remember what is important.”

Aldin let out a soft hoot of agreement, and I could feel the contentment radiating from him. We stayed like that, the rain washing over us, until the cold began to creep into my bones and Aldin’s feathers started to droop from the weight of the water.

“Alright,” I said, finally pulling myself away from the edge of the balcony, “let’s get inside before we catch our death out here.”

Aldin fluttered off my shoulder and landed on the railing, giving himself a quick shake to rid his wings of excess water. “You’re no fun, Seb. But I guess you’re right. Let’s dry off.”

I stepped back inside, water pooling around my feet as I closed the doors behind us. Aldin flew in after me, perching on the back of a nearby chair as he fluffed out his damp feathers. I raised a hand, murmuring the words to a simple Prestidigitation cantrip, and with a wave of my fingers, the water evaporated from my clothes, leaving me dry and warm. Another quick flick, and Aldin was similarly dried off, his feathers regaining their usual fluffiness.

“Much better,” Aldin said with a satisfied hoot. “Now, how about we get comfortable and watch the rest of the storm from the inside?”

Can't argue with that.

I grabbed a couple of blankets from my bed. I wrapped one around myself, and tossed the other over to Aldin. He quickly set about nestling himself with a content hoot. We settled ourselves in front of the balcony window. The rain continued its downpour. The rain lashed out against the glass, but it was nothing compared to the warmth and coziness of our room.

We watched the storm continue its relentless assault. A deep sense of peace settle over me. The worries of tomorrow could wait.

For now, it was just me, my best-buddy, and the rain.

Promise

The delicate task at hand demanded my complete focus. Each bead of gold required precise imbuing with the essence of the Fireball spell. One significant enough of a mistake, and the bead could detonate, triggering a deadly chain reaction of Fireballs that would undoubtedly spell my end. Needless to say, all open flames were strictly prohibited from my room until every bead was safely attached to the Necklace of Fireballs.

Note to self: Develop an item that grants immunity to one or more energy types, preferably fire. Everyone loves throwing around fire.

The bead’s creation emitted a faint, flickering glow that cast dancing shadows on the walls, a mesmerizing display of arcane blues and fiery reds. Nearby, Aldin perched on his usual spot, watching me intently with his large, curious eyes.

“Careful there, Seb,” Aldin said, his voice a mix of teasing and genuine concern. “Wouldn’t want to blow us both to pieces just because your mind’s wandering off again.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I delicately applied the final touch of magic to the bead, sealing it with a whisper of arcane energy.

“My mind’s not wandering,” I lied, even though we both knew better. I focused on the bead, feeling the power settle into the gold with a faint hum. The truth was, my thoughts had been slipping away more often than not lately, and they always seemed to drift toward the same place — or rather, the same mare.

“Sure it’s not,” Aldin quipped, his tone as dry as the parchment scattered across my workbench. “I’ve seen you staring off into space more in the past week than I have in months. Let me guess, you’re thinking about a certain princess?”

I didn’t respond immediately, my fingers working to attach the bead to the necklace without setting off the volatile spell trapped within. The soft clink of gold on gold echoed in the quiet room.

When I was sure the bead was secure, I glanced over at Aldin, trying to deflect. “I’m just focused on this project, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Aldin said, the skepticism in his voice obvious. He tilted his head, his large eyes narrowing playfully. “And I’m just a regular owl. You’ve been moping around here like you’ve lost something, and I’m willing to bet it’s got something to do with the fact that you haven’t seen Luna in, what, a week?”

My hands stilled for a moment, his words hitting closer to home than I was willing to admit. A week since I last saw her. A week since I watched her try on my wonderous items. A week since I had felt this new gnawing sense of longing whenever I thought of her.

“I am not moping,” the words sounded hollow even to my own ears. I forced my attention back to the necklace, but it was no use. My mind was already drifting again, back to the memory of Luna’s smile, the way her eyes lit up when she tried on the laurel, the soft laugh she’d given when I handed her the teashades.

“Seb,” Aldin’s voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. “You’re doing it again.”

I sighed, and set down the necklace. I couldn't deny it anymore. Not to myself, and certainly not to Aldin. “Okay. Fine. I guess I am.”

Aldin hopped closer. His eyes filled with that odd mixture of wisdom and mischief that only he could consistently pull off. “You're down bad, don’t you? Never thought I would see the day when you — of all people started daydreaming about a mare.”

“I am not daydreaming — it's nighttime,” I grumbled but my heart wasn’t in it. I leaned back in my chair and took to staring up at the ceiling. “I just can’t stop thinking about her, Aldin. Every time I try to focus on something else, she’s there, in the back of my mind.”

“Sounds like love to me,” Aldin teased. But there was an undercurrent of seriousness that made my stomach twist.

Love.

What a daunting prospect. Love. I did not know if love was what I was feeling, or maybe I was just too afraid to face it. Love was something you read in books. Something reserved for others. I had never thought such a thing as 'love' wouldn't befall me. Not like this, not with someone like Luna.

“Maybe,” I muttered to myself. I could feel his eyes on me. But I kept my focus on the project laying before me. I tried my hardest to engross myself into the golden necklace. I failed.

“Why don’t you go see her?” Aldin suggested after a moment. “It’s not like she’s avoiding you, right?”

“No. It’s not that.” I shook my head. “She’s just busy. Running the kingdom, preparing for whatever missions she’s going to send me on. We both have a lot on our plates.”

“And that’s all the more reason to see her,” Aldin pressed. “If you’re really falling for her, don’t you think you should spend time together while you can? Before she sends you off to who-knows-where?”

His words sent a chill through me, a reminder of the conversation I’d overheard between Luna and Celestia. The missions. The dangerous, isolated places she would send me, far away from Canterlot, and far away from her. I hadn’t told Aldin what I’d overheard, and he didn’t know the full extent of what those missions could mean.

But he was right about one thing — if I was going to be sent away, I didn’t want to leave with things between us unfinished.

I considered his words. My consideration was interrupted by a sudden knock that echoed through the room. I glanced at the door, and my heart skipping a beat. Aldin gave me a curious look, but I was already on my feet. A strange mixture of anticipation and dread took root in me as I moved toward the door.

"Expecting someone, Seb?" Aldin asked, his tone light but edged with curiosity.

"No. But I think I know who it is."

As I reached the door, I felt the familiar hum of the Arcane Lock spell I’d cast over it react to my approach. It was a protective measure, ensuring no one could freely enter or leave. I knew of only one person who would come knocking at this hour of night.

I took a breath. Then I released the lock with a turn of the doorknob and opened the door.

Luna stood there in the doorway. There was something different in her eyes this time. A weight that had not been there before.

"Luna," I said while stepping aside to let her in. "Is everything alright?"

She hesitated for a moment before entering, her hooves silent against the floor. I closed the door behind her, the Arcane Lock automatically engaging and enhancing the already in-place lock.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice holding an unusual softness that caught me off guard. “I apologize for coming unannounced.”

“No need to apologize,” I replied as I watched her move further into my room. “You are always welcome here.”

She put on a smile that never reached her eyes. I couldn’t help but notice how tired Luna looked. She looked as if something had been weighing on her for days. Had she been this tired when I last saw her? Or was this something new?

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her gaze drifting to the nearly-finished Necklace of Fireballs on my workstation. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy, I see.”

I followed her gaze, shrugging slightly. “Just working on a project. Something with a little kick to it.”

Luna nodded. There was a distant look in her eyes. A distant look that said that she was only half-listening. After a moment she turned to face me fully with an unreadable expression masking her face. “I have something I need to discuss with you. Something important.”

The tone she used sent a shiver down my spine. I knew without her saying anything. This was about the missions. The ones I wasn’t supposed to know about. The ones I had overheard nonetheless.

“Of course. What is it?”

Luna took a deep breath as if she needed to steel herself for what she was about to say. “I have two missions that require your talents. The first is urgent and must be completed as soon as possible. A death worm has been sighted in the Badlands near Dodge City. It poses a significant threat to the nearby pony settlement. You must track it down and eliminate it before it can cause any harm.”

I nodded slowly, processing the gravity of her request. A death worm was no small threat — about fifteen feet long, easily a thousand pounds, capable of spitting both acid and electricity. It was a lethal force of nature, particularly to those unprepared or without the capacity for flight. As I compared the creature's capabilities to my own, confidence began to build within me. It would be a dangerous task, but I was certain I could handle it — probably without too much difficulty, provided it didn't catch me off guard.

I nodded, already calculating what I would need for such a task in the Badlands. “I can handle that. And the second?”

She hesitated a moment before continuing. “The second mission is more… delicate. I need you to go to the Crystal Mountains and locate a door made of ice and gems. You are to mark and verify its location, but under no circumstances are you to open it or attempt to pass through it or mention the door or its location to anyone.”

“A door of ice and gems?” I repeated, frowning slightly. “Why is it so important?”

Luna’s expression grew guarded, and she shook her head. “That is not for you to know at this time. Just… do as I ask, and report back to me once both missions are completed.”

There was something in her voice that made me uneasy. I pushed the feeling of trepidation aside. “Understood. Won’t mention the door to a soul. I will leave for Dodge City first thing in the morning.”

Luna nodded. But her eyes remained troubled. A part of me wanted to reach out through the tension, and reassure her that everything would be alright. Before I could act upon that desire, Luna's horn began to glow with the aura of her magic.

I watched on as the air around her shimmered. In an instant, a long and slender object materialized before her. Suspended in the air by her magic was a sword. The blade was a masterfully crafted longsword. It was sheathed in a dark ornate scabbard with a hilt wrapped in midnight-blue leather. The pommel bore a familiar mark. Luna's cutie mark. Her mark was intricately engraved into the pommel's metal.

My breath caught in my throat as memories surged unbidden. I knew this sword. It was the same longsword I had wielded in my last nightmare, the one I’d used to decapitate the vrock demon from Meridin’s childhood. The vividness of the sword had stayed with me, sparking curiosity in me at times, but I had always dismissed it as just a dream. But now, seeing the sword here, in the waking world, I realized that it had been something more. Something real.

“This sword…” I began, my voice taking a whispered tone as I stared at the weapon. “I’ve seen it before… in my dreams.”

Luna’s gaze softened, a hint of sorrow in her eyes as she floated the sword toward me. “This sword is not of this world alone. It exists in both the physical plane and the dream plane, as do many of my own weapons. It has served me well in the past, and now… I wish for it to serve you.”

I hesitated, my hand hovering over the sword’s hilt. The weight of her words, and the sword itself, felt immense. “Luna, I—”

“Please,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet pleading. “Take it, Sebastian. I cannot always be there to protect you, not in the dreaming or waking world. But with this, you will carry a part of me with you. It will guide you, shield you, as it once did for me.”

I hesitated for a moment. The significance of the moment settled upon me. This was more than just a magical weapon. It was a gift, a symbol of trust, and perhaps something deeper. I reached out and took the sword from her magical grasp. The sheath was cool to the touch. As my fingers enclosed around the hilt, I felt a surge of power, a connection of sorts to the blade that I couldn’t quite explain.

“I will keep it safe,” I vowed.

Luna stepped closer, her gaze intense. “You must do more than that, Sebastian. This sword is not just for protection — it is a reminder. A reminder that you are not alone. Even in the darkest of times you are not alone.”

I swallowed hard. “I understand.”

She held my gaze for a long moment as her eyes searched mine. “Then promise me something.”

“Anything,” I replied, almost without thinking.

“Promise me that you will return. No matter what happens on these missions, no matter how dangerous they may be, you will make it back to me.”

The earnestness in her voice, the unspoken plea beneath her words, hit me like a physical blow. There was no mistaking it. What had been lingering in her eyes was fear. Fear of losing me. It was not a fear that she held alone. I shared in that fear as well, though I had not fully acknowledged it until now, never fully tasted its bite.

“I promise,” I said, my voice steady, even as my heart raced. “I’ll come back. I’ll always come back.”

For a moment, the tension between us softened, replaced by a quiet understanding. Luna gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and I saw a flicker of relief cross her features. But it was fleeting, and soon her usual composure returned.

I looked down at the sword in my hand, running my thumb over the engraved cutie mark on the pommel. “What’s its name?” I asked, feeling that the sword, like all great weapons, deserved one.

Luna paused, her gaze distant for a moment as if searching for the right words. Then, with a small, almost wistful smile, she said, “Promise. The sword’s name is Promise.”

The name resonated within me, echoing the vow I had just made to her. It was fitting, in more ways than one.

“Promise,” I repeated softly, feeling the weight of that word, of everything it meant, as I looked into her eyes. “Perfect.”

Luna’s smile grew though it was tinged with sadness. “It is yours now, Sebastian. May it keep you safe… and may it guide you safely back to me.”

I nodded. I wanted to say more but I found myself unable to find the right words. A sense of resolve settle into me as I watched her. It was a burning desire to fulfill the promise I’d just made. I would complete this mission. I would do so and complete any others she needed me to undertake. I would return and not just because it was my duty, but because of her.

With one last lingering look, Luna turned and left the room. The door letting out a click as it closed behind her. I was left alone, the sword — Promise — still clutched in my hand.

And as I looked down at the pommel that carried her mark, I felt a renewed sense of purpose solidify within me.

I just have to make sure that I don't die.

That would make her cry.

I really hate it when people cry.

Badlands

Dodge City was a world apart from Canterlot. The polished marble towers and bustling streets of the capital seemed like a distant dream in this rugged frontier town. Here, the buildings were plain and practical, their wooden facades weathered by years of sun and sand. The desert heat wrapped around the settlement like a smothering blanket, but the Endure Elements spell kept the worst of it at bay. Under the relentless sun long shadows stretched out across the dusty streets of Dodge City. From the east came a faint breeze that carried with it the scent of dry earth and charred wood.

Aldin perched on my shoulder, his feathered body motionless except for the occasional tilt of his head as his sharp eyes scanned our surroundings. He didn’t speak, but his watchfulness said enough. The town moved at a subdued pace, the ponies here going about their day with an air of unease. The recent attacks had clearly left their mark, and I could feel the weight of wary gazes on me as I walked.

A human wandering into Dodge City was an uncommon sight, and the curious, uneasy stares of the townsfolk followed my every step. A group of ponies were gathered outside the town’s general store. Their conversation broke off as they noticed my approach. A tension of sorts sparked up around them, and their eyes widened as they took in my appearance fully.

“Excuse me,” I said while offering them what I hoped would be seen as a friendly smile. “I’m looking for the pony in charge of Dodge City. I heard there’s been trouble with a worm out in the Badlands, and I’m here to help.”

The ponies exchanged glances, their expressions uncertain. Finally, a stallion stepped forward. He wore a battered hat that shaded his weathered face, his stance steady but guarded. “You’ll be wantin’ Cherry Jubilee,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “She runs Cherry Hill Ranch. Been helpin’ keep the town together since all this started. Just head up the road, stranger.”

“Thanks,” I said, nodding. “I’ll find her.”

The stallion tipped his hat but didn’t relax, his gaze lingering as I turned to go. “Good luck out there,” he added. “We’ll need it.”

As I walked the road we passed row after row of cherry trees. The trees with their vibrant greenery stood out against the dry, cracked soil of the surrounding desert. The orchard stood as living proof of the resilience and determination of Dodge City’s residents. And the capabilities of earth pony magic. The ranch came into view — a cozy farmhouse with a wraparound porch painted in welcoming hues. A mare worked among the cherry trees near the entrance, her pale yellow coat and crimson-streaked mane catching the sunlight. Her grayish-crimson eyeshadow added a touch of elegance to her otherwise practical appearance.

“Miss Jubilee?” I called as I approached, careful not to startle her.

She straightened, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the sight of me. But her surprise faded quickly, replaced by a warm smile. “Well now, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she drawled, her voice carrying a pleasant Southern lilt. “Don’t reckon I’ve seen you ‘round these parts before. What brings you to Dodge City, sugar?”

I returned her smile, dipping my head in a polite bow. “Sebastian. I’m here from Canterlot to help with the recent attacks. I was told you’re the one I should speak to.”

Cherry’s smile softened, and she studied me for a moment. “Well now. It’s not every day we get a visitor from Canterlot. Let alone one who’s come to help us. I’m Cherry Jubilee by the way, owner of this here ranch. And might I say, it’s mighty kind of you to offer your assistance.”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Jubilee. This is a beautiful place you have here. I must admit, your cherry trees are impressive,” I said, genuinely admiring the vibrant orchard.

She perked up at the compliment, and she returned it with an appreciative nod. "Why, thank you, Sebastian. Out here we do our best to keep things thriving out here, even with the Badlands breathing down our necks. But let's not waste time on small talk. If you are here to help then we should get straight down to business."

She gestured for me to follow, and I fell into step beside her as she led the way. "The last attack wasn’t far from here," Her tone grew more serious with each step. "One of our storage buildings ended up burned to the ground, and several of our cherry trees were destroyed. It was a mess, I tell you. We’ve been on high alert ever since."

I nodded, listening intently. "Has anyone seen the creature responsible?"

“Not directly,” Cherry replied, her brow furrowing. “But the destruction is unlike anything we've encountered before. I’m certain it’s some kind of monstrous looking worm, and from what I’ve heard, you’re just the pony — er, person — for the job.”

Her words were filled with a mixture of hope and desperation. She was looking for some way to handle this threat. Not just her, but the town itself was too. I was ready. This was what I had been trained for. This was what Luna had prepared me for. I was confident that I could handle this.

Before long we were at the edge of the cherry orchard. The trees here were sparse and gave way to a wasteland of charred stumps and deep gouges in the earth. The winds shifted and I caught the scent of ash and something acrid. A trail of destruction led to and from the greater Badlands. A scar placed upon an otherwise untouched desert landscape.

Cherry looked at me, her expression a mix of worry and hope. “Be careful out there, Sebastian. The Badlands aren’t kind to travelers… and this creature, it’s not like anything we’ve dealt with before.”

I gave her a reassuring nod, my hand resting on the hilt of Promise. “I will. I’ll make sure this thing doesn’t threaten Dodge City again.”

Cherry hesitated for a moment, then stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it then. Just… come back safe, ya hear?”

“Don’t sweat it! I got this,” I replied, giving her my most confident smile.

With that, Cherry turned and began her walk back toward the ranch, leaving me at the edge of the Badlands. I watched her go, then turned my attention to the trail ahead. The path into the Badlands was rough and unwelcoming, but it would take more than rugged terrain and simple heat to deter me.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The Badlands stretched before us like a canvas of desolation, its cracked and barren earth painted in hues of rust and ash. The air was dry and acrid, carrying the faint, bitter tang of decay on a wind that howled intermittently across the vast emptiness. Above, the sky was a cauldron of fiery oranges and deep crimsons as the sun began its descent, casting jagged shadows that danced across the tortured landscape. We were far from Dodge Junction now, following the deep, gouged tracks left by the creature’s rampage, each step taking us deeper into its territory.

Aldin soared overhead, his wide arcs serving as a vigilant survey of the terrain. His sharp eyes scanned every crack and crevice for signs of movement, his unease palpable through our bond. This land was as alien to him as it was to me — a far cry from Canterlot’s ordered streets and familiar skies. Yet, despite the oppressive emptiness and the lurking danger, a strange calm settled over me. This was the proving ground Luna had prepared me for, the place where lessons honed in the safety of sparring grounds would be tested against raw reality.

I glanced down at the tracks in the dirt, their jagged edges indicating the sheer weight of the worm that had carved them. The trail was fresh, a recent mark of the beast’s destructive path. “How much further, do you think?” Aldin’s voice came from above, his tone edged with unease and a dash of teasing bravado. Ever since gaining the ability to speak, he’d made ample use of it, filling even the heaviest silences with his wit.

“Hard to say,” I replied, adjusting the strap of my pack and patting the reassuring weight of Promise at my hip. “But if it’s this bold, it won’t be hiding for long. We’re bound to find it — or it’ll find us.”

Aldin swooped down to perch on my shoulder, his talons gripping the fabric of my cloak lightly. “Great. Nothing like being hunted by a sand monster in the middle of nowhere. You sure this isn’t just a grand scheme to impress Luna?”

I smirked, shaking my head. “If it were, I’d have picked something less likely to eat us alive.” My gaze shifted to the horizon, where the sun dipped lower, bathing the land in an eerie twilight. “This is about protecting the ponies here — and proving to myself that I’m ready.”

Aldin ruffled his feathers, a subtle show of trust in the face of his lingering apprehension. “Fair enough, Seb. Just don’t expect me to bail you out if you go all hero and get in over your head.”

“Noted, best-buddy,” I said, the nickname earning a quiet huff of amusement from the owl.

We pressed on as the sun surrendered to night, the oppressive heat of the day giving way to a biting chill that would have been unbearable without the magic of Endure Elements. The landscape transformed under Luna’s moon, its pale light casting stark contrasts across the jagged rocks and shifting sands. By the time we stopped, the Badlands had become a study in darkness, broken only by the faint glimmer of starlight.

“This’ll do,” I said, halting near a rock formation that offered some protection from the wind. The flat ground here was ideal for a campsite, and though the terrain was unforgiving, it would suffice. “No fire tonight. We don’t need to announce our presence.”

Aldin hopped to a higher perch, his sharp gaze scanning the area as I worked. I cast Alarm first, its invisible threads weaving an unseen barrier around our camp. The spell would alert me to any intrusions, and with Keep Watch cast shortly after, I ensured I could stay alert through the night without succumbing to fatigue.

As I leaned against the rough surface of a boulder, Aldin fluttered down to rest on my shoulder again. “Sure you don’t want me keeping watch with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge softened.

“I’ve got this,” I assured him. “You rest. We’ll need you sharp tomorrow.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Seb. Just… don’t do anything reckless while I’m out.”

“Reckless? Me? Never,” I quipped with a grin. He gave a low, amused croak before settling into a comfortable position, his breathing soon evening out as he drifted to sleep.

The silence of the Badlands was oppressive. The oppressiveness was broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind across the surrounding desert landscape. My gaze turned upward. I found myself drawn to the vast expanse of stars that stretched endlessly across the night sky. The constellations Luna had shown me seemed sharper here, their patterns etched into the heavens like ancient guides. The Tree of Harmony, its branching lines a symbol of balance, stood out boldly, while the Navigator pointed true, its shape a beacon for wanderers.

I traced their shapes in the air with my finger, the motion comforting in its familiarity. My free hand found Promise’s pommel, my thumb brushing over the engraving of Luna’s cutie mark. The sword was more than a weapon—it was a connection to her, a symbol of the trust and care that had grown between us.

My gaze lingered on the Dreamweaver, its gentle curve cradling the night like a protective embrace. Luna had once told me it brought dreams to those who slept beneath its watchful glow. I wondered if she was gazing at these same stars, her thoughts perhaps wandering to me as mine wandered to her. The ache of longing was tempered by the quiet strength I drew from her presence in my life, even from afar.

I adjusted my position against the rock, my senses on high alert despite the stillness. The death worm was out there, lurking in the darkness, waiting for its moment. But I was ready. Luna’s training had prepared me for this, and I carried her lessons in my every movement, her words echoing in my mind.

With the moon above and the stars as my companions, I settled in for the long watch, my thoughts steady and my resolve firm. Whatever the Badlands had in store, I would face it head-on, knowing that I was not alone.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Death worms, for all their ferocity and capacity to deal out death, aren't particularly fast.

A few hours after dawn, we caught up to the beast. The massive furrows in the dirt led us to a jagged outcrop of rocks jutting from the arid landscape, a perfect spot for an ambush. But today, it was the worm that would be ambushed.

Aldin, perched atop my head, echoed my thoughts. “Tracks end here, Seb. It’s probably lying in wait for its next meal.”

“We won’t keep it waiting long,” I replied, already formulating a plan. Aldin’s excitement mirrored my own as we prepared for the confrontation. “Take the necklace. If things go sideways, drop as many Fireballs as needed until that thing stops moving.”

With a quick nod, Aldin took to the sky, the Necklace of Fireballs clutched securely in his talon. Meanwhile, I began my preparations: Mage Armor, Shield, Mirror Image, and Fly — just in case.

Once my defenses were in place, I summoned a celestial dire rat using Summon Monster I. The dog-sized rodent sat on its haunches, awaiting my directions. I pointed towards the likely location of the death worm, and it squeaked in response and began scurrying forward, unaware of the role it was about to play. Poor thing.

Next, I cast Summon Monster III, conjuring a lantern archon — a being of pure spiritual energy, its form a glowing orb of living light.

The archon’s voice echoed with an echoing and airy resonance. “Greetings, summoner. What is our plan of action?”

“Simple,” I said, pointing to the dire rat as it approached the rocks. “The bait will draw the death worm out. Then we strike. Keep it engaged long enough that it won’t think about trying to escape into the ground until it’s too late.”

The archon’s light flickered through a rainbow of colors as it silently fluttered around excitedly. Without warning, it brightened and landed atop my head for a moment, a surge of strength and resilience flowing through me.

“Aid. For the battle ahead,” it said before returning to its flight.

I nodded in acknowledgment, my focus narrowing to the bait as it neared the spot where the death worm would likely strike. My hand moved subtly, and I began to gather the arcane energies needed for my next spell: Fireball.

A small, swirling orb of flame materialized at my fingertip, its vibrant glow pulsing with barely restrained power. The magic within it hummed, eager to be released, but I held it back, knowing the moment wasn’t quite right. Timing was everything — soon the worm would show itself, and then it would learn the price of its hunger.

We didn’t have to wait long.

The earth trembled, a deep, bone-rattling vibration that sent pebbles dancing across the ground. A nearby rock shifted, rising slightly, revealing the telltale sign of the predator lurking beneath. Then, with a burst of ferocity, the death worm erupted from the ground in a shower of dirt and stone. It was a grotesque behemoth, all rippling muscle and armored scales, its maw a horrifying tunnel of endless, jagged teeth. In one swift motion, it snapped its jaws around the dire rat, which vanished in a burst of dissipating magical energy.

There — the opening we needed.

A slow, wicked smile crept across my face. The worm was too distant to reach me with its acid breath or crackling lightning, and in its momentary confusion over the disappearing prey, it hadn’t yet noticed me. Perfect.

I raised my hand, aiming it with the precision of a marksman, the Fireball poised like a bullet in the chamber. With a calm, quiet whisper, I uttered a single word: “Bang.”

The orb shot forth with blinding speed, expanding into a roaring inferno that consumed the worm in an explosion of searing heat and light. Its agonized roar echoed across the barren landscape, a sound of pure, primal fury. And then it turned, locking onto me with a rage that was as palpable as the heat of the fire that still clung to its scales.

The intensity of its response caught me off guard. I had expected hesitation, a precious second or two to create some distance. But the beast wasted no time, surging forward with a relentless, almost suicidal drive. Its maw yawned wide, spewing a corrosive torrent of acid in my direction.

I reacted instantly. With a thought, I activated Fly, and in the same breath, Shift — teleporting ten feet to the side. The acid splashed against the rocks where I had just stood, the stone hissing and melting into slag within moments. I didn’t pause, taking to the air as I cast Scorching Ray, launching a beam of concentrated fire that seared into the worm’s charging mass.

Above, my lantern archon glided through the air, easily keeping pace with the thrashing beast. It unleashed beams of pure, radiant light, each ray piercing the creature’s tough hide with surgical precision.

Fly gave me a significant advantage, allowing me to stay out of reach while still harrying the worm. But I had to be careful not to push it too far, too fast. If the creature decided to retreat underground, this worm hunt could turn into a lengthy endeavor.

The archon’s continuous barrage seemed to frustrate the worm, driving it to abandon its pursuit of me. With a violent twist of its massive head, it unleashed a bolt of crackling lightning that tore through the air, seeking to obliterate my summon. The force of the strike was staggering, the very air humming with its deadly energy. Had I been the target, only a lucky mirror image — or a really good dodge — could have saved me from a trip to the nearest hospital, or worse, the morgue.

But the worm’s desperate attack was for nothing. The archon, immune to the destructive electricity, simply absorbed the hit and continued its relentless assault. Watching the beast’s most powerful strike fizzle harmlessly against a ball of light was almost comical.

Seizing the opportunity, I unleashed another Scorching Ray, and the archon followed up with a final volley of light. The combination of fire and divine light drained the last of the worm’s strength. It convulsed violently, its once-mighty form now a smoking, charred ruin, before collapsing onto the scorched earth. The lantern archon fired two more rays, ensuring the creature was well and truly dead.

The death worm lay still at last, a hulking carcass of burnt flesh and toxic ichors. Its gaping maw sagged open, the last dregs of acid dripping uselessly to the ground. I hovered above the scene, my breathing steady, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away.

As I surveyed the aftermath, I couldn’t help but compare this battle to my sparring sessions. “Sparring with Luna makes this fight seem like a breeze,” I muttered, recalling the intensity and duration of our training. Her relentless tutelage had honed my skills to the point where even a formidable creature like this death worm felt almost trivial. Almost.

But it made sense. Sparring with Luna was controlled, focused, relentless. This was lethal combat, and while dangerous, it was also fleeting. On the tabletop, most battles that aren’t meat grinders tend to last only a few turns — three to five turns, usually. A turn lasts just six seconds, making most combats occurring in only eighteen to thirty seconds. Give or take a few seconds.

“Well, that was underwhelming,” Aldin remarked, as he held out the necklace.

I chuckled, accepting the Necklace of Fireballs back from him. “Yeah, it was. But underwhelming is good. Underwhelming means no one important got hurt, and we get to leave this forsaken land.”

The lantern archon flashed an assortment of colors as it wished us luck just before the duration of my spell ended, returning it to its home plane.

“Come on, best-buddy. Let’s get started on heading back to town. We’ve got some distance to cover. And the faster we catch a train, the faster we get to finding that door, the faster we get back home.”

Bogg

The sun hung high in the sky as Aldin and I arrived at the edge of Froggy Bottom Bogg, where the swamp sprawled out like a dark, stagnant sea that swallowed the horizon.

Luna had ordered guards to place warning signs along the Everfree Forest and the Bogg, urging ponies to keep far away from Froggy Bottom Bogg until the threat was eliminated. This gave us a battlefield free from interruptions, but it also meant the weight of responsibility was fully on us.

The bog was a fetid wasteland of stagnant water, dotted with dense clusters of mangrove trees. Their twisted, gnarled roots rose above the murky surface, forming a tangled lattice of natural bridges and hidden lairs for whatever creatures might be lurking within. The thick foliage of the mangroves cast long, eerie shadows, obscuring whatever dangers lurked beneath the dark waters.

I flicked my fingers to adjust my teashades, shielding my eyes from the noon sun’s harsh glare. “Damn, the sun is almost as brutal out here as it was in the Badlands.”

Aldin hooted in agreement from his perch on my shoulder. “Couldn’t we have waited until nightfall?”

“Not this time, best-buddy,” I replied, checking my gear with practiced precision. “This hydra’s not going to wait around for us. If we leave it alone, it might grow more heads or worse — reproduce.”

Hydras aren’t particularly difficult to put down if you know what you're doing. Their main threat lies in their rapid healing coupled with their head regeneration if you make a mistake. Fortunately, this one should be manageable — it only had four heads. Fewer heads typically means slower healing and less overall strength.

This should be a cakewalk, just like the death worm. And this one can’t even burrow, shoot electricity, or breathe acid.

Satisfied with my preparations, I mentally ticked through my arsenal one last time. Mage Armor shimmered faintly over my skin, the Necklace of Fireballs rested heavily against my chest, and Promise hung securely at my hip. My spellbook was primed with hydra-slaying spells, each ready to unleash the moment it was needed. I wasn’t wasting any of my precious spell slots unless I had to — combat in a bog like this demanded precision.

"Alright, best-buddy," I said, scanning the swamp for any sign of movement. “Let’s find some tracks or a trail. Think Badlands, but with extra swamp funk, ankle-deep sludge, and—” I slapped at a mosquito biting through my sleeve. “—fucking bloodsuckers.”

Aldin chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. "Got it, Seb. I’ll take the high ground."

With a rustle of wings, he took off, his sharp eyes darting over the soggy landscape. I followed on foot, each step a squelching reminder of how inhospitable the bog was. The muck sucked at my boots, and unseen creatures splashed and croaked in the murky water, their cries echoing through the oppressive stillness.

The stench of the place hit like a punch: sulfur, rot, and decay blended into a noxious miasma that clung to every breath. It wasn’t just the bog that reeked. Something bigger, something predatory, lingered here.

My thoughts drifted to Luna. Her voice had been calm but firm when she’d made me promise to return. It wasn’t an empty request; I could feel the weight of her worry. Promising her had been easy. Keeping that promise, however, depended on surviving this place.

"Seb! Over here!" Aldin’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. He perched on a low-hanging mangrove branch, his feathers ruffled and his tone urgent. I slogged toward him, the water rising to my knees in some places, every step a battle against the bog’s relentless grasp.

As I neared, the smell shifted — stronger, fouler, almost metallic. The sight ahead twisted my stomach.

The mangroves were draped with carcasses. Animals of all sizes hung lifeless, their bodies broken and torn. The remains swung lazily in the humid breeze, like grotesque ornaments in nature’s cruel display. Deep gashes marked their flesh, limbs were missing, and their lifeless eyes stared into the void.

A manticore, half-eaten and grotesquely displayed, dominated the grim tableau. Its lion head hung limply to one side, eyes frozen in a haunting rictus of terror. The once-mighty wings were now nothing more than jagged stumps, tendons dangling like macabre streamers. Its scorpion tail swayed lifelessly in the humid air, the poisonous barb dulled by death. Around it, the broken bodies of smaller creatures — crocodiles, snakes, even hulking frogs — littered the mire in varying states of mutilation. Blood seeped into the swamp water, painting the muck in streaks of deep red.

“These kills are fresh,” Aldin murmured, his voice tight with unease. His keen eyes darted from one corpse to the next before locking onto mine. “A few days old. It’s close.”

I nodded, my chest tightening under the weight of his words. The swamp felt suddenly alive with malice, the air suffocating as it pressed down, thick with heat and decay. Each breath tasted of rot and sulfur, clinging to the back of my throat. My gaze swept the shadowed mangroves, searching for movement, for anything that betrayed the predator that called this nightmare home.

And then it came — the sound that froze every muscle in my body. Wet. Deliberate. A visceral ripping, unmistakable and obscene: flesh tearing from bone.

Aldin’s talons dug into my shoulder, his feathers bristling. Through our link, I felt a flash of terror so sharp it mirrored my own. His voice, low and taut, broke the tense silence. "It's feeding."

I nodded again, my grip tightening on Promise’s hilt. "Time to move."

We advanced with agonizing care, every step a gamble against the squelching muck beneath my boots betraying our presence. The grotesque symphony of butchery grew louder as we pressed on, the wet crunch of sinew and bone reverberating through the mangroves. Their roots wove a twisted labyrinth around us, forming both barriers and fragile cover as we inched forward. The swamp's suffocating stillness only amplified the sounds ahead, each one a grim reminder of what awaited us.

The closer we got, the clearer the grisly scene became. The trees above sagged under the weight of decaying carcasses, their vacant eyes and shredded flesh a testament to the predator's wrath. Flies swarmed in thick, buzzing clouds, their frenzied movement the only contrast to the oppressive stillness. The air grew heavier, a putrid cocktail of blood and rot clawing at my senses, threatening to overwhelm.

Aldin’s sharp talons pressed into my shoulder again, grounding me in the moment. His unease bled into our bond, and I could feel his fear — raw and unfiltered. He’d only been this terrified once before: the day we arrived in Equis, disoriented and vulnerable.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered, the words more for myself than him. My thumb traced Promise’s pommel, the engraved crescent moon cool against my skin. It wasn’t much, but it steadied me as we crept closer, the grotesque sounds of the hydra’s feast growing louder with every step.

And then, through the tangled mangroves, I saw it.

The clearing opened like a wound in the swamp, revealing a scene that would haunt my nightmares. The water here deepened, dark and opaque, hiding whatever lay beneath its surface. Mangrove roots jutted upward like gnarled bones. Each root working together to form a jagged perimeter around the hydra’s lair. The air was thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood, and there was an oppressive silence that was broken only by the wet, rhythmic sounds of flesh being torn apart.

I froze as my eyes locked onto the monstrous form. Luna’s letter had spoke of a hydra with four heads.

It had nine.

Nine serpentine necks writhed and twisted above its massive body, each head moving with a precision that was both mesmerizing and terrifying. Their eyes were abyssal black, voids that reflected nothing but hunger. Rows of serrated teeth ripped through the remains of another manticore — this one far less intact than the first. Its shredded carcass was barely recognizable, chunks of flesh and bone disappearing into the hydra’s ravenous maws. Blood pooled around the beast, staining the swamp in a nauseating swirl of red and black.

The hydra’s scales were a deep, mottled green, a perfect camouflage against the murky waters and foliage. Its massive body heaved with each gulp, muscles rippling beneath its thick hide. Each of the nine heads moved independently but with eerie synchronicity, tearing apart their kill in grotesque harmony. The wet, sucking sound of flesh being devoured filled the air, punctuated by the occasional crunch of bone.

I counted again, my mind desperately clinging to the possibility of error. But the truth was inescapable. Nine heads. Luna’s intelligence had been wrong. Or perhaps something had changed. My eyes flicked back to the mangled remains of the manticores. Had their failed attack triggered the hydra’s regenerative abilities? If so, the abundance of food had only exacerbated its growth, fueling its monstrous transformation.

And now, that problem belonged to me.

My stomach churned with a mix of fear and determination. With this many heads, I’d need to sever some of the heads while preventing regeneration, or the beast will simply heal through my damage. But cutting off that many heads without taking a bite or two in the process would be no easy feat.

For a fleeting moment, the thought of retreating crossed my mind, abandoning this monstrosity for someone else to handle. But what would that say about my resolve? How could I claim to be able and willing to protect those I care for if I couldn’t face such a threat now? Could I live with myself if I ran now? Could I return to Luna with my tail between my legs, knowing I didn’t even try?

No.

I must succeed.

I need to kill this thing.

At least it wasn’t a cryohydra or a pyrohydra. It lacked any form of ranged attacks, making it a manageable foe.

The hydra was engrossed in its meal, oblivious to our presence. Despite the daunting odds, we had the element of surprise. Yet the beast’s sheer size and its nine heads presented a formidable challenge. With all my defensive spells active, I should be able to hold my own. But if the hydra managed to land a solid bite or two, I might find myself in the Boneyard far sooner than I’d like.

“Oh, so that’s what a hydra looks like,” Aldin whispered, awe and fear mingling in his voice.

I nodded, with each word my confidence returned. “Yeah, it’s a nine-headed hydra. I was hoping for the four-headed one, but that doesn’t matter now. Its weaknesses are the same. It will die the same.”

Aldin nuzzled my cheek, his feathers soft against my skin. “We can do it, Seb. I believe in you.”

“Thanks, best-buddy.” I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the battle ahead. “Let’s move before it finishes its meal.”

The hydra’s feast continued. All nine of the heads were blissfully unaware of the danger creeping closer. The swamp was filled with the eerie sounds of tearing flesh and the occasional snap of bones. Red blood colored the waters of the swamp painting a gruesome contrast against the dark, muddy swamp.

With no time to waste, I began casting spells.

First came the Shield spell, forming a protective barrier of force shaped like a shield around my left forearm. Then, I cast Fly, granting myself magical flight to hover a few feet above the water. I checked to ensure the beast was still distracted.

It was nearly finished with its meal. Almost time then.

“Aldin, take the Necklace of Fireballs and fly above the hydra. When I give the signal, pick off the smallest bead and drop it on the fucker. Can you do that?”

Aldin gave a wing-salute, “I’ve got your back, Seb!”

Necklace in talon, Aldin flew high above the feasting hydra, ready to act on my command.

With Aldin in position, I used another spell slot to summon the Lantern Archon. The familiar glowing orb of spiritual energy appeared before me, its light pulsing gently.

“Greetings again,” the Lantern Archon’s airy voice echoed out. “How may I assist?”

“Wait until I charge,” I instructed. “And can you repeat my commands to the elementals?”

The archon bobbed and agreed, its light flickering in excitement as it took in the sight of the hydra.

Next, I used my second to last third-level spell and I managed to summon three Small Water Elementals. Their fluid forms shimmered as they appeared, reveling in their new watery environment.

“Wait until the summoner charges,” the Lantern repeated, and the elementals rippled in understanding, their blueish watery shapes shimmering in a clear contrast to the muck of the bog.

With my final third-level spell, I cast Haste on my summons and I, feeling the surge of speed and agility flow through me was encouraging. Finally, I cast Stunning Barrier on myself, a shimmering aura enveloping me, ready to attempt to stun the hydra if it landed a blow. With all preparations complete, I took a deep breath and nodded to my summons.

“Lantern, cast Aid on me, please.”

The Lantern Archon glowed brighter for a moment and lightly brushed the top of my head. I felt a surge of strength and resilience. With everything in place, I took a deep breath, unsheathed Promise, and launched myself into the air.

The combined effects of Fly and Haste propelled me above the water, charging straight for the hydra. All nine heads were focused on squabbling over the remaining scraps of the manticore, giving me the perfect opening.

With momentum on my side, I swung Promise, slicing clean through one of the hydra’s heads. The now severed head fell into the bog with a satisfying splash. The remaining eight heads let out a deafening roar of pain and outrage.

The three Water Elementals surged forward, crashing into the hydra’s massive body repeatedly. Their watery forms slammed into the beast, causing it to thrash about in fury and confusion.

The Lantern Archon’s light flickered in a pattern of reds and golds, hovering close enough to bombard the beast with its rays of light.

Two of the hydra’s heads whipped around before I could get out of its reach. I managed to dodge one, but the other sank its teeth into my right leg. The impact was jarring, but the boost of endurance from the Lantern Archon’s Aid spell absorbed the totality of the damage. The hydra’s retaliatory bite triggered the Stunning Barrier, momentarily stunning the beast.

Recognizing this moment as a prime opportunity, I swung Promise again, severing the offending head and sending it to join the other head, splashing into the murky waters below.

Now cut down to seven, the hydra flailed about wildly. The combined assault from the Water Elementals, the Lantern Archon’s light rays, and my own attacks was momentarily overwhelming the beast. The bog rang out with the sounds of battle, the viscera filled waters churning as the hydra struggled to defend itself in its own lair.

“Strike it down, summoner!” the Lantern Archon cheered, its light intensifying with each successful strike.

Taking advantage of the chaos, I extended my left hand and cast Burning Hands. Flames erupted from my fingertips, fanning out in a searing cone that engulfed the hydra’s pulsating stumps. The fire cauterized the wounds, preventing the heads from splitting and regenerating.

Now permanently down two heads, the hydra redirected its fury towards the three Water Elementals.

It tore into their fluid forms with a storm of furious bites. Despite their best efforts, the elementals were no match for the hydra’s sheer ferocity and flurry of fangs, and one by one, they were destroyed, their watery bodies evaporating back to the Water Plane from whence they came.

With the seven remaining heads occupied, I saw my chance and charged in, flying just above the swampy waters. The Lantern Archon’s Aid spell and my own Haste still fortified me, giving me the strength and speed I needed. Twice I swung Promise, and thanks to Luna’s relentless sparring sessions and being amped up on a combination of Haste and Aid, I managed to sever two more heads from the beast.

The hydra, now down to five active heads, went into a frenzy. With the elementals gone, only the Lantern Archon and I remained targets for its fury. Unfortunately for the monster, it couldn’t fly.

The Lantern Archon continued its relentless assault from above, and I rose higher to join it. But just as I ascended, two of the hydra’s heads swung toward me once again. Before those fangs could rend me to pieces, I managed to Shift ten feet higher, barely teleporting out of their snapping jaws. The hydra’s bites met nothing but air.

Seeing that it couldn’t reach us, I called out, “Toss one, Aldin!”

From the skies above, a tiny golden speck descended. It landed between the two fresh stumps, expanding into a brilliant ball of fire. The hydra now had four permanent stumps and five active heads.

All according to plan.

With only five heads remaining, the hydra’s fast healing was far slower, thus making it a viable strategy to kill it from the safety of distance. Not the most honorable of victory, but honor was the last thing on my mind. I’ll leave the honor for the paladins.

Victory seemed within reach. The hydra’s bite on my leg left no wounds, and the lantern is still here, firing endless rays of light upon the monster below us. This fight, although not as I had hoped when I first read Luna’s letter, was going surprisingly well.

Easy even — almost… too easy.

And that was when fate decided to piss all over everything.

As I prepared to cast Stone Discus to lop off another head from the beast from the safety of our aerial vantage point, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Tilting my head a few inches, I look more fully towards that motion. A pit formed in my stomach.

Three fillies emerged from the dense foliage from the north end of the bog, I recognized only one. Sweetie Belle, along with a yellow earth pony sporting a big ass pink bow and an orange pegasus with wings that seemed too small for her age. The trio of kids were steadily approaching the enraged hydra.

You have to be fucking with me right now.

“What the hell are they doing here?” I muttered, panic rising in my chest. Luna had assured me the area would be clear. How had they even gotten here? Through the Everfree? Why? How? Can’t they read signs? Are they fucking illiterate?!

“Aldin, stay above the hydra! Lantern, keep it distracted!” I commanded, hoping the fillies hadn’t yet been spotted. I flew closer, trying to get their attention without alerting the hydra. “Hey! You three! You need to leave, now!”

Sweetie Belle looked up, eyes wide with recognition. “Mister Sebastian?”

“Yes, it’s me! Now get the fuck out of here! It’s not safe!” I stabbed Promise toward the direction they’d come from, but it was too late. Far too late.

The hydra noticed them and let out a furious roar, charging through the swamp sending water and muck flying in all directions. Mangrove trees acting as little more than speed bumps on its path of death.

“Dammit!” I cursed, adrenaline surging through me.

I had to act fast.

Using a combination of my hastened flight and Shift, I teleported between the hydra and the fillies just as one of the heads lunged forward to bite. The force of my sudden appearance knocked the fillies back, but I couldn’t afford to spare a second to look in their direction to see where they had gone.

The beast was already upon me.

There was no time to think — only to act.

Raising my left arm, I deflected the head’s bite away with my shield of force, though the impact nearly buckled my arm and sent me back a few inches.

The heads reared back, momentarily confused by my sudden arrival. I stood my ground, Promise in my right hand, a spell already forming within my mind and my left hand already making the necessary motions to cast it. I couldn’t risk any sudden maneuvers that might put the fillies in harm’s way.

No Shift or flight — at least, not yet. Not until I can confirm their location.

Despite the circumstances I now find myself in, a strange sense of calm washed over me. Memories flashed through my mind: countless nights of sparring with Luna, huddled together over books and scrolls, walks in the castle’s moonlit gardens, dinners with Luna and Celestia, and… her smile. Gods… what I would give to see that smile one more time.

I promised her I’d make it back.

I can’t leave her alone.

She’s been alone for far too long.

I can do this.

I will do this.

I must do this.

The first head lunged as I completed the incantation for Stone Discus. With a twist of my left hand, a razor-sharp disc of stone materialized, spinning as I lined up my shot. I rewarded the beast's aggression by sending the disc slicing cleanly through its neck, severing the head and sending it flying into the bog behind me with a sickening splash.

The second head struck almost immediately, exploiting the opening my extended arm left. Its fangs sank deep into my left shoulder, piercing through muscle and trapping my arm in its maw. I gritted my teeth, stifling a scream as searing pain shot through me.

Then the third head came, angling to deliver a mirrored strike. I waited, timing it perfectly until the jaws were mere inches from me. In an instant, I Shifted ten feet into the air, narrowly evading the likely fatal bite. The third head plunged into the swamp, snapping shut on nothing but water and mud.

Now hovering above the hydra, I could see what occupied the last two heads. My lantern summon was being bitten repeatedly by two of the heads, but the hydra’s teeth were struggling to find purchase on the lantern.

I cast another Stone Discus and hurled it with lethal precision, decapitating the head that had been clamped around my shoulder just a few seconds earlier. The stumps of both severed heads began to writhe, muscles twitching as they split and started to regenerate.

Damnit.

From my new elevated view, I scanned the battlefield. Two heads remained focused on killing me, while the other two were preoccupied with the Lantern Archon darting through the air. Off in the distance, the fillies had managed to put some distance between themselves and the hydra — a narrow window of opportunity to finish this fight had opened.

Good kids.

"Throw it all," I bellowed up to Aldin, dodging two more snapping jaws.

I glanced up just in time to see the Necklace of Fireballs plummeting toward the hydra. The chain and beads caught the sunlight, gleaming like a gift from the divine. A wicked grin split my face as I Shifted even higher into the sky.

The hydra's roars were abruptly cut short as the necklace detonated, a series of Fireballs exploding in rapid succession. The shockwave of heat struck me as the blasts tore through the creature's body, consuming it in a fiery inferno.

The Necklace of Fireballs had done its job perfectly.

It incinerated.

All that remained of the multi-headed dickhead was a scorched mass of flesh and bone, still smoldering from the relentless barrage. The acrid stench of charred meat filled the air, a grim testament to the battle's conclusion.

As the flames continued to consume the hydra's corpse, the adrenaline that had kept me moving began to fade, allowing the first inklings of pain to creep forward. Every movement brought out more pain from my lacerated shoulder, the wound feeling — and looking — as though a shark had tried to rip my arm off. Blood poured from the ragged gashes, soaking the tattered remnants of my shirt and cloak.

To make matters worse, my medical pack was gone, likely lost to the bog during the fight. A quick search revealed nothing — just the vast, murky expanse of the swamp.

“Heh, looks like you bit off more than you could chew,” I muttered with a weak chuckle at my own joke as I glanced down at the now very much roasted hydra.

My clothes were thoroughly shredded, soaked with blood — my own and sprays from the multiple decapitations. It was a mess, and I needed to clean up. A quick Prestidigitation spell did the trick, wiping away the blood and grime as though it was never there. I would need to bandage the wounds quickly or else blood loss would become a problem.

Returning Promise to its scabbard, I turned away from the hydra’s corpse and floated down to where the three fillies were huddled together, trembling like leaves in a storm. They were covered in muck from the swamp, but thankfully, they seemed unharmed. A wave of relief washed over me. I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself if they had come to harm.

“Hey, kids,” I said, dropping to one knee to meet their eyes, trying to sound as soothing as possible. “You three were very brave. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you all get home safe and sound.”

They stared at me with wide, terrified eyes. I could see it clear as day — they were scared out of their minds. And rightfully so! But how to calm them?

Just then, Aldin chose to land on my good shoulder, his presence a small comfort. “Tell them they can pet me!” He suggested.

“Who wants to pet the best owl in Equis?” I asked, as Aldin took it upon himself to hop onto Sweetie Belle’s head and fluff out his feathers.

The fillies hesitated, then slowly reached out to pet my now thoroughly attention-drunk familiar. Their fear seemed to ease, at least a little.

Looking up, I saw the Lantern Archon weakly floating toward us, its voice filled with concern. “Noble One, are they okay?”

Noble One? That’s a new one.

I glanced back at the fillies. They were still petting Aldin, and their terror was starting to subside. I think the one with the bow is even smiling.

“They’re unharmed,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thanks to you, Lantern.”

The archon’s light pulsed softly as it spoke, “Please, call me Eldarael. Until we meet again…”

With that, the summoning spell sustaining Eldarael expired, and the archon vanished from this plane.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the pain that was becoming harder to ignore. But there was no time to wallow in it — not with these kids needing to be taken to safety. Just need to put something on this wound first.

Sighing softly, I set aside my torn cloak and reached up to tear a strip from my shirt. The already damaged fabric ripped easily, and I began wrapping it around my shoulder, trying to ignore the sting as I bound the wound.

Once the makeshift bandage was secure, I stood up, rolling my shoulder experimentally and wincing at the dull throb that followed. It will hold for now. I quickly tossed back on my cloak, and cast another Prestidigitation to make myself more presentable.

I approached the fillies, who were still huddled together, their eyes wide with lingering fear. “Hey there, little ones. You’re safe now. That hydra won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

Sweetie Belle was the first to speak, her eyes brightening with a mix of relief and surprise. “Mister Sebastian? You saved us!”

“Well, of course I did,” I said, flashing a confident smile despite the pain. “I couldn’t let some kids get gobbled up by some musty hydra. I’d never hear the end of it.”

The other two fillies exchanged glances before the yellow earth pony stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Ah’m Apple Bloom,” she said. “And this here’s Scootaloo,” she added, nodding toward the orange pegasus with wings too small for her age.

“Nice to meet you, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo,” I said, giving them each a reassuring nod. “But what are three brave fillies like you doing out here in the bog? This is no place for kids.”

“We saw a sign about a hydra and thought maybe we could get our cutie marks by looking at dangerous creatures,” Scootaloo explained, her voice trembling slightly. “But we didn’t know it would be so… terrifying.”

Oh my god, these fillies are going to be the death of me. Their poor parents…

“Yeah, well, sometimes the best adventures are the scariest,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “But let’s save the dangerous stuff for when you’re a bit older, okay?”

Apple Bloom nodded vigorously. “Yeah, Ah think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“Good call,” I said, managing a warm smile despite the searing pain. “How about we get moving? Stay close to me, and don’t you worry. We’ll get you back to your families soon.”

Not a single one argued against that. They fell into step beside me, as I guided them towards the Everfree and away from the hydra’s corpse.

As we emerged from the swampy waters of the bog and ventured into the depths of the Everfree Forest, I paused to cast Prestidigitation, removing the grime and stench of the bog from us all. The fillies’ eyes widened with fascination at the magic, their earlier fear momentarily forgotten. To amplify their awe, I summoned four glowing orbs with Dancing Lights. They floated around us like gentle will-o'-wisps, casting an illuminating and reassuring glow that pushed back the encroaching shadows of the forest, making our path less foreboding.

The fillies huddled together, their initial fear softened by the lights’ comforting presence. Their nervous whispers and glances gradually shifted to a mixture of curiosity and wonder as they watched the orbs dance. Aldin, ever the attention seeker, flitted between their shoulders, encouraging them to pet him. His soothing presence offered them a small measure of comfort, and his soft hoots seemed to reassure them.

A genuine smile broke through my pain. These children who were about to die just a few minutes ago, are now smiling and petting away at Aldin as though they were out for a field trip to a petting zoo. Ah, the innocence of youth.

My senses remained sharp, my thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pommel of Promise whenever the pain in my shoulder flared up. It was a small gesture that helped keep me focused despite the discomfort.

Navigating through the Everfree Forest was challenging. The foliage was dense and occasionally the terrain became a little unpredictable, but the glow of the Dancing Lights proved to be a steady guide, and Aldin and I were able to see far into the darkness of the forest. The fillies’ fear had transformed into cautious curiosity, their wide eyes taking in the forest with a mix of apprehension and wonder as we made our way through the twisting paths.

“Mister Sebastian, how did you fight the hydra all by yourself?” Scootaloo asked, her voice filled with awe.

“I didn’t. I had some help,” I said with a grin, nodding towards Aldin and thinking of the now-dispersed summons. “And a bit of magic.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. “Magic like these lights?”

“Exactly,” I said, letting a small smile grow on my face. “Magic can do many things, but I’d say it has been my training under the best princess that let me fight the hydra like that.”

“But, Mister Sebastian,” Sweetie Belle spoke up while petting Aldin. “I thought Princess Celestia only had one student?”

I looked at Aldin and spoke to him in our shared language so that the fillies could not understand us, “It was a mistake to save all of them.”

Aldin shot me a look, "If they weren't so cute, I'd agree."

“Wait a second!” Scootaloo interjected, her little wings fluttering with excitement. “You mean Princess Luna, don’t you? She’s the coolest!”

“No way!” Apple Bloom countered, poking a hoof towards Scootaloo. “Mister Sebastian means Princess Celestia.”

“I don’t know, girls,” Sweetie Belle said, trying to mediate. “Maybe it doesn’t matter which princess he means. Can we just focus on getting home?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle through my pain as I watched them argue. This distraction was perfect. They were so caught up in their argument that they didn’t even notice the ominous surroundings of the Everfree Forest. Their bickering filled the eerie silence, making the trek back to Ponyville more lively than it had any right to be.

Aldin, now perched on Scootaloo’s shoulder, turned his head toward me. “Can I keep one?” he asked, with his best puppy eyes equipped.

“Sorry, best-buddy,” I replied, still speaking in our shared language. “They have families waiting for them, and I’m not kidnapping anyone.”

“But look at them! They’re adorable!” Aldin protested, nuzzling Scootaloo’s cheek. She giggled, oblivious to our topic of discussion.

“They are,” I agreed, “but they belong in Ponyville. You know, with their parents.”

Aldin let out a pouting sight and relented.

The path through the Everfree became less treacherous as we neared the edge of the forest. The fillies continued their spirited debate, with Sweetie Belle occasionally trying to calm things down.

“You’re both missing the point,” Sweetie Belle said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “Mister Sebastian said ‘best princess,’ not ‘most powerful’ or ‘coolest.’ Maybe he means Princess Luna, his sword has her cutie mark on it!”

Both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo fell silent, considering Sweetie Belle’s words. I smiled, appreciating Sweetie Belle’s insight. She was right, after all.

We continued onward, I hid my discomfort while the fillies kept up with my pace.

“Mister Sebastian,” Scootaloo piped up, her tiny voice brimming with the kind of innocent curiosity that only a child could wield so effortlessly. “What does ‘fuck’ mean?”

Oh… Oh no…

I could feel Aldin’s joy bubbling up through our link, and from him a mischievous hoot rang out. Thanks, best-buddy, being real helpful right now.

“You know what,” I started, carefully mulling over my word choice, “why don’t you ask your families when you get home?”

The trio exchanged glances, clearly unsatisfied but willing to drop it — for now. Crisis averted!

Or so I thought.

“Mister Sebastian,” Apple Bloom’s voice cut through the silence, tinged with the kind of hesitation that made my heart sink. Another question, and this one sounded like it could spell trouble. Please, not something that’ll get me skinned alive. Please, don't ask me where babies come from!

“Do you think they’ll be mad at us?”

Relief washed over me. This one I could handle.

“Yes,” I answered, pausing just long enough to watch their expressions tighten with worry before I continued, “but they’ll be a lot happier to see you alive and well. If you want my advice, apologize — mean it — and tell them that you’re sorry and that you love them. Trust me, that works every time.”

Aldin let off another amused noise, but for once, he kept his comments to himself.

They fell silent, absorbing my words with the kind of serious contemplation only children facing potential scolding could muster. Then, as if on cue, they began rehearsing their apologies like they were preparing for a school play. Their earnestness would’ve been amusing if it weren’t for the dull, persistent throb in my shoulder reminding me of the day’s events.

By the time we reached the edge of the Everfree, they had their lines down pat, running through their apologies in whispers. As we emerged from the shadowy forest, the sight of their families waiting anxiously just beyond the treeline brought an immediate end to their practice. Relief washed over their faces, quickly replaced by joy as they spotted their loved ones.

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity cried, dashing forward and scooping her sister into a tight hug. “I was so worried!”

“Apple Bloom, thank Celestia you’re safe!” Applejack’s voice was thick with emotion as she pulled her little sister close.

“Scootaloo, you’re okay!” Rainbow Dash swooped in, ruffling the filly’s mane with a mix of affection and relief.

I hung back in the treeline, watching the scene unfold from a distance. It felt good to see them safe, back where they belonged, surrounded by those who loved them. The adrenaline that had kept me going during the fight had long since faded, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and a sharp, persistent pain that flared with every breath. I winced as I adjusted my grip on Promise’s pommel, the motion sending a fresh wave of agony through my lacerated shoulder.

The thought of going to the hospital flickered briefly in my mind, but as I watched the emotional reunions before me, my thoughts drifted to Luna. The families were wrapped up in their relief and happiness, so much so that they probably wouldn’t notice if I quietly slipped away. A genuine smile tugged at my lips, despite the pain.

I didn’t wait for goodbyes or any formalities. The fillies were where they needed to be, and that was all that mattered.

With Aldin perched on my uninjured shoulder, we made our way toward the train station. I could handle these wounds myself. I just needed to borrow some first aid supplies and sneak into my room to stitch myself up.

Then I could see that wonderful smile again.

Scars

For the first time since the days of their creation, my wondrous items sat resting atop my room’s workstation.

The silver of the laurel leaves gleamed in the dim light of the setting sun, casting faint, delicate reflections as the evening glow slipped between the cracks of the balcony’s curtains. My teashades were neatly folded atop the coils of my belt. Somewhere on the floor, my tattered shirt lay discarded alongside my cloak, forgotten in favor of tending to more pressing concerns.

I laid out the medical supplies before me on my workstation, which I had borrowed from the first aid kit at the train station. Thanks to a quick use of the Vanish spell, lifting them had been almost absurdly easy. Popping a few painkillers, I prepared myself for further pain.

My shoulder throbbed with a relentless, sharp ache. Each pulse of pain was a flash in my mind, each flash an image of the hydra's maw. The pain was a constant, burning presence, a visceral reminder of just how close I had come to death. Cleaning the wound had been a bitch, but I knew it was better to endure the agony now than to gamble with infection later.

I had studied several medical books on wound care and first aid during my hours of time in the library, absorbing their detailed instructions in preparation for situations such as this. In theory, it all seemed straightforward — nothing more than a methodical process of treating and suturing. I knew that cleaning the wounds would suck, but I had assumed stitching myself up wouldn’t be too difficult.

I was wrong.

The wounds on my chest had been manageable, albeit with a few moments of sharp discomfort. But the real challenge lay in the lacerations on my back and left shoulder. Reaching them with mundane means was next to impossible, so I improvised with a hand mirror and a touch of magic. I angled a hand mirror on the table to catch the reflection of my shoulder and cast Mage Hand. The ethereal hand hovered before me, shakily holding the needle and thread. It did not inspire confidence.

“Let’s get this over with,” The first stitch went in, and a sharp twinge shot through my shoulder. “Shit! I should’ve spent more time practicing with this thing!”

Aldin had left sometime ago, claiming to be off on a hunt for his dinner. Just as I started to make some semblance of progress, a knock on my door startled me causing me to prick myself.

“Fuck! Who the hell…?” I grumbled, setting the mirror down with a frustrated sigh.

My eyes darted towards Promise, resting against the wall near the head of my bed. Ever since Luna had gifted it to me, it had become a constant companion. It took conscious effort to leave the blade where it lay.

With a weary sigh, I commanded the Mage Hand to place the needle and thread down, and I opened the door. The Arcane Lock recognized me, allowing me to open the magically locked door with just a simple turn of the knob.

The door creaked open, and to my surprise, Luna stepped inside, her gaze immediately falling on my partially stitched wounds. I had a sinking suspicion that Aldin had led her here.

That little traitor.

“Sebastian,” Luna said, her voice a mixture of concern and incredulity. “What are you doing?”

“Just patching up a little wound,” I replied, trying to sound casual despite the throbbing pain in my shoulder.

Her eyes narrowed as she approached, her tone dropping dangerously low. “A little wound? You’re practically butchering yourself in here! Why didn’t you go to the hospital? Or come to me for help?”

I averted my gaze, finding it impossible to meet the fire in her gaze. “I didn’t want to worry you. It’s not that bad, really. ‘Tis but a flesh wound!”

“Not that bad? Flesh wound?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly with incredulity at each word. My poor choice of words has come to bite me. “Sebastian, that is the worst wound you’ve ever had. Sit down, now.”

There was no arguing with her when she used that tone. I moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. A contradictory mix of relief and anxiety settled into me as Luna sat behind me and began examining my wound.

Her magic flared softly, the cool blue glow inspecting the stitches I had managed to complete on my chest. Her touch was light but firm, each probe making me wince. “The stitching on your chest is adequate, but I’ll take care of the rest.”

I nodded, grimacing as she found a particularly tender spot. “Thank you.”

Her tone softened, though frustration still lingered. “Why didn’t you come to me? You know I am here for you.”

I took a deep breath, scouring my mind for the right words. “I know. I just… I didn’t want to seem weak.”

Luna’s magic paused for a moment, the soft glow of her horn casting shadows across the room. Her eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of something — hurt, maybe — before she masked it with a composed expression. “Weakness isn’t something you should be ashamed of, Sebastian,” she said quietly, her voice gentle yet firm. “Especially not with me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I let my eyes fall to my hands. The stress of everything that had happened. The missions, the endless hunt for the door, that thing in the mountains, the hydra… It all seemed to crash down on me at once.

Luna resumed her work, her magic manipulating the needle and thread to stitch shut the wound on my shoulder with a level of precision that spoke of years of experience. The pain made itself well known. A dull throbbing sensation that pulsed in time with my heartbeat, but that pain wasn't comparable to the turmoil within my mind.

She worked on in silence. Luna's focus was unwavering as she weaved the stitches to piece together my torn flesh. But there was a weight in the air between us. A sort of tension that I could not ignore.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice gentle yet firm. “Sebastian, tell me what happened out there.”

I hesitated, temporarily at a loss of words. The concern in her eyes, the way she looked at me as if she could see through every wall I’d built, made it impossible to keep the truth hidden. So, I began to speak, slowly at first, then faster as the memories flooded back.

I told her everything — of the Badlands and the death worm, of the Crystal Mountains and the endless, maddening search for the door. I spoke of the creature that knew my name, its horrific voice constituted from a thousand echoes of the same person, and of the nine-headed hydra that should have been four. Then, I told her about the trio of insane, illiterate fillies — how I’d almost died protecting them.

Luna remained silent throughout my ramblings, her magic never faltering as she continued her work. She just listened, her presence steady and unyielding, as if she knew this was something I needed to get out.

I stopped abruptly. The words that spilled free suddenly seemed impossible to bring forth. A raw sensation stabbed through my chest. Luna reached out, and with a gentle hoof, cupped my chin and turned my face towards hers.

“Go on,” she urged. Her tone taking up a soft and coaxing nature.

I took a shaky breath, forcing the next words out. “I put myself between the children and the hydra, but it was all too fast. Before it bit me, all I could think about was… was you.”

Her eyes widened as she searched mine. “Me?”

I nodded. The confession has slipped out before I could second-guess myself. I pushed on. "I thought I was going to die. But all I could think about was that you'd be alone again. I... I never want you to feel alone again." My voice trembled, the emotion I’d been holding back leaking through. “I came straight here because I couldn’t waste time in some hospital, and I figured I could handle the wounds myself. Then I could see you again. I needed to see you again.”

Her expression morphed into one far more tender. An expression that wrung out an ache from my heart that was equal parts painful and beautiful. Leaning in close, she began to stroke my cheek with a hoof. Her breath was warm waves as she spoke. You’re not weak, Sebastian. But you don’t have handle everything on your own. I’m here.”

I swallowed hard. Her words were invaluable, and I found myself not wanting to move. “I just wanted to see your smile again. That’s what kept me going.”

She smiled then, a small, genuine smile that lit up her entire face, a sight that made everything I’d been through worth it. “You’ve done more than that, my dear apprentice.” Her voice a whisper, thick with emotion. “You kept your promise. You came back to me.”

A profound sense of relief filled me. She cared — no, she loved me. I could see it in the way she looked at me and held me.

“I’ll always come back,” each spoken word steadier than the last. “I’ll always find my way back.”

A small, tender smile touched her lips, and she nodded, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I know you will, Sebastian. I know."

She leaned back, nodding slightly as a small smile touched her lips. “Now hold still. I’m nearly done.”

Luna’s soft smile lingered as she finished securing the last stitch. Her magic gently tugged at the thread, making sure the wound was closed properly. The pain persisted as a dull thing that pulled on my nerves. That pain was soothed by Luna's presence and care.

Luna finished and secured the final stitch, sealing my wounds. I couldn't help but to admire her skill with the needle. She had sewed shut my wounds with such finesse that it piqued my curiosity.

“Where did you learn to stitch like that?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

She paused, her magic returning the needle and thread to the kit on the workstation as she looked at me. There was a flash of something distant in her eyes. Memories long buried that could never be forgotten. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, and I nearly began to take back my question. But she began speaking before I could.

“I had to learn,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand years. “When I was… her… I couldn’t trust anyone. Couldn’t let them see that even a nightmare could bleed.”

She was staring at my stitched shoulder now, as though they carried all the answers to questions unasked. I watched her closely, noticing the way her jaw tightened, the way her eyes grew just a bit more distant. She wasn’t looking at me anymore; she was looking inward, at scars far deeper than the ones of flesh.

Biting back signs of pain, I reached out with my right hand, placing it gently over her hoof. She looked down at our joined limbs — hoof and hand — then back up at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. I squeezed her hoof lightly, trying to offer her some comfort, some assurance that she was not alone.

“Luna,” I began, my voice soft, careful, “you don’t have to hide anything from me. I’m here, and I want to be here. With you.”

For a moment she hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded. She turned her attention back to me. “There is something I want to share with you, Sebastian,” her voice carrying the same kind of tenderness that had soothed me during the worst of my pain, but it was tinged with trepidation. “But it.. is not easy for me.”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don't want to,” I said. A mixture of anticipation and fear creeping into me. I wanted to truly know Luna, to understand her in a way that no one else could. But, at the same time, I also don't want to push her into needlessly reliving memories that brought her pain.

She gave a small, sad smile. “I want to share this with you. You are important to me.”

With a slow and delicate motion, she grasped my right hand with her hoof and guided it towards her chest. She pressed my palm against the soft fur there. I could feel the warmth emanating from her body, the rhythmic thrums of her heart, and underneath the silky coat, I could feel something else.

A scar.

"This one," she spoke with a steadiness tinged with sorrow, "is from my sister. From the last battle we fought before she banished me to the moon. It nearly ended me."

A shaky breath escaped me. Her words sank deep as my fingers traced the line of the remnant of the ancient wound. Under her fur the scar was well-hidden, but now that I had touched it I knew that I could never unfeel it. The thought of her being so close to death, that she had borne this wound alone, made my chest tighten with something fierce and protective.

“I had to do it myself,” she continued, guiding my hand to another scar, this one on her side — across her ribs. “I was Nightmare Moon, driven by rage and pain. But when the fighting was over… the rage left, and I was alone. But the pain was still there. I couldn’t let anyone see.”

Her voice wavered, but she continued, guiding my hand to her back where I traced another scar, long and jagged. “I stitched every wound myself,” she admitted, her tone heavy with a past pain. “No one could know that Nightmare Moon was vulnerable, that I could ever be hurt.”

I closed my eyes, imagining the torment she must have endured — not just the physical agony but the crushing loneliness that drove her to such lengths. As my thumb brushed lightly over the scar, I felt a faint shiver pass through her.

“I’m here,” I whispered, my voice firm with determination. “And I won’t let anything happen to you. Not now, not ever.”

Her hoof guided my hand back to her chest, just over her heart, as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against my ear. “I know,” she murmured, her voice soft as a secret shared in the dead of night. “That’s why I’m showing you this, Sebastian. Because I… I trust you. And I don’t want to hide from you anymore.”

A thousand words formed and died — without ever being spoken. Her words and the true intimacy of this perfect moment pressed upon my heart and mind. My right hand stayed there, just above her scarred heart. I could feel it... the reassuring rhythm of her heart under my palm. It spoke to me. Strength. Resilience. Love found through the darkness of the past.

Luna's other hoof rose to rest atop my hand. She pressed my hand to her heart with an intensity that told me to never let go. Our eyes locked, and in hers I could see a depth of emotion long hidden and buried. Perhaps hidden and buried out of fear, or some need to shield herself from the scars of the past. The room felt smaller. It was as though the room itself was drawing closer and forcing us to confront the truth that had been simmering between us for some time.

My heart pounded away in my chest like some great war drum. Warmth radiated from Luna. Her proximity banished the chill in the air. The gentle beating of her heart under my palm was steady and strong. Each pulse drawing every ounce of my focus to this moment. To her.

"Luna..." I began, my voice thick with emotion, "I... I love you."

Before I could consider the consequences and catch my words, they had slipped free. Her eyes widened. For a heart wrenching moment fear crossed her face. A shadow of her ever tormenting past seemed to threaten her.

"Sebastian," she whispered. Her hoof trembled against my hand. In those eyes was a battle she was waging within. "You don't understand.. I'm not a good pony." Her eyes darted away from mine. "I'm not worthy of your love. Not after everything I’ve done.”

Her words shook me, but it was the pain and how much she believed those words that truly crushed me. She was punished herself, even now after everything. She was reliving the agony of a thousand years worth of regret and self-loathing. She was a mare who had seen, done, and endured too much. In her eyes she was truly believed she did not deserve love.

“No,” my voice was harder than I intended and the word slipping out like some defiant challenge. “Don’t say that. You are so much more than your past. You have shown me the stars. Guided me when I was lost. Helped me find strength I never knew I had. You are brave, and kind, and... and…” I trailed off. I searched for the right words to say, but every word that came to me were all so woefully inadequate. Then, I found them in her eyes. “I love you, Luna. I love every part of you.”

She blinked. A look of true surprise crossed her features alongside unshed tears. For a moment neither of us moved. My shoulder throbbed with its dull aches of fresh stitches, but I ignored it. This was too important, too fragile, to let go.

Slowly Luna leaned closer, her breath warm against my lips. My room faded to obscurity. The only thing worth attention was the beautiful mare before me. Just a hair's breadth away from me she hesitated. Her eyes searching my own for any sign of doubt, any hesitation at all.

There was none.

I closed the distance, capturing her lips with mine. The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, as though we were both afraid of breaking this fragile moment. But then it deepened, fueled by emotions long buried. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of pain, of love denied.

The taste of her was intoxicating, a heady mix of moonlight and something uniquely her. I could feel the tension in her body slowly melting away as she gave in to the kiss, her hooves tightening slightly around my hand. Her heart beating ever faster in the palm of my hand. My free arm instinctively moved to pull her closer, but the sharp pain in my shoulder made me wince, my injury interrupting the moment. I grimaced, but Luna was already pulling back, concern etched into her features.

"Sebastian," she murmured, her voice laced with worry as her eyes darted to my shoulder. "Your stitches…"

I shook my head. The pain could wait.

“It’s nothing,” I tried to mask the pain from showing in my voice. But the throbbing in my shoulder was making it rather difficult. “This… this is more important.”

Luna’s frown deepened at my words. Her eyes searching mine, and I could see the concern lingering there. She sighed softly, her breath brushing against my cheek as she leaned in, pressing her forehead against mine. The gentle contact was surprisingly comforting.

“My dear apprentice,” her voice was tinged with a sadness that made my heart ache. “You’re always so stubborn.”

A soft chuckle escaped my lips, though it was tinged with a wince as my shoulder protested the movement. “I learned from the best,” I replied.

Luna’s lips curved into a faint smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. With a tenderness that surprised me, she shifted her position, careful not to jostle my raw shoulder. Her hooves were gentle as she guided me to lie down on the bed. I hesitated for a moment. I did not want to surrender to the pain. In my stubbornness and greed I wanted more. More of Luna's kisses, more of her affection, but the look in her eyes brook no room for argument.

Reluctantly, I allowed myself to sink into the mattress. Luna settled beside me, her body a warm presence that pressed against mine. She was careful, her movements deliberate and cautious as she nestled in close. Her head found the crook of my uninjured shoulder and rested there. I could feel the warmth of her breath tickling my neck, and the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Her closeness was addicting. It was a comfort once tasted became a need. The simple act of being close to Luna captured my focus, and made the pains of my freshly stitched shoulder become something minor in comparison. Her mane draped over my chest like some silken curtain. A rising storm of emotion swirled within me, but it was calmed by the welcomed thrum of her heartbeat that reverberated against my side.

Neither of us spoke. We were content to simply bask in each other's presence. The silence was not an uncomfortable one. It was one filled with a new unspoken understanding of one another that required no words yet. I once again felt that happiness I once felt when Luna first spoke to me of her stars above. A small smile grew on me. It had been more than happiness back then.

Luna's hoof traced small, soothing circles above my heart. Her touch sent shivers through me. I closed my eyes and found myself wishing that this would never end.

“Sebastian,” she whispered after a while, her voice while quiet, was crystal clear in the stillness of my room. I opened my eyes, and turned my head so that I could better see her. Her eyes met mine. In spite of my room's dim lighting I could see the shine of tears gathering in her eyes. “I’ve hurt so many… lost so much… I did not think I could ever find happiness again. I did not think I deserved it.”

My heart clenched at her words. A pain within me that sparked at the pain that laced every syllable she spoke. I wanted to argue with her. To tell her that she was wrong, and that she deserved to be happy. More than that, I wanted her to have all the happiness in the world. But the look in her eyes, the raw vulnerability there, stopped me. This was something she needed to say. This was something she needed to face.

“I was afraid,” she continued, but now her voice trembled ever so slightly. “Afraid that if I let myself care for you, then I’d only bring you pain. I was afraid that I would lose you, like I have lost so many before.”

It was a truth she had carried for far too long. I could see there, in her eyes. Fear. Self-doubt. Guilt. They had clung to her since before her banishment to the moon centuries ago. But, beneath all of that was something more. A beacon that shone with hope.

“I thought,” she whispered, “that I could keep my distance. That, somehow, I could protect you by keeping my heart locked away.”

She paused. Her eyes searching my own for something. Perhaps she saw reassurance there. Perhaps she saw understanding. I hope she did, because that is what I felt. Regardless, whatever she saw was enough to give her the strength to continue.

“You’ve shown me that there is more to life than the shadows of the past. That there is light even in the darkest of places.” Her hoof moved to cup my cheek. “You have given me what I thought I could never have again. Something I thought... I convinced myself that I didn’t deserve.”

She swallowed hard. Her eyes shimmered with tears yet unshed. “You’ve given me love, Sebastian. And I… I love you too.”

Her words hung between us. They were delicate threads that connected our hearts. A rush of emotions came to me. Too many to name, but all of them centered around the mare lying beside me. An intensity had settled into her that left me breathless.

“I love you,” she repeated. Her voice broke as tears spilled over tracing wet paths down her cheeks. “I love you so much that it scares me.”

I reached up. Ignoring the flares of pain from my shoulder I gently wiped away her tears. “Luna,” my voice was now thick with emotion, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A shaky breath escaped her as she closed her eyes and leaned into my touch. Through my hands I could feel her tremble. But she never pulled away. Instead, she pressed closer. Luna buried her face into the crook of my neck. Her tears dampening my skin.

I held her close. My hand resting on the back of her head. My fingers gently tangling in her mane. The pain in my shoulder had become a faint memory. The memory long since eclipsed by Luna. Eclipsed by the warmth of her body against mine, and by the love that filled every corner of my being.

We laid together and let the world melt away. Within that embrace nothing else mattered except for the sounds of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart, and the warmth of her love enveloping me like a cocoon.

Within that embrace I reached an epiphany.

No matter what the future held, or whatever challenges may come, I had found something worth fighting for. She was worth holding on to with everything I had.

I had found love.

It was the most beautiful, terrifying, and precious thing I had ever known.

Rest

The first sensation pulling me from sleep was the warmth of Luna beside me, a steady presence that softened the edges of waking. My arm rested over her, her head nestled against my chest, her mane a cascade of midnight blue spreading across the sheets. Each quiet breath she took sent a tickle along my skin, a gentle reminder that this moment, fragile and fleeting, was real.

The room was cloaked in shadows. The light filtering through heavy curtains was dim at best. Outside the sun lingered just below the horizon, making it the hour before sunset — a time of transition between day and night. It was a cherished time for us, an unspoken pause before duty called us to rise.

I hesitated, reluctant to disturb the peace of her presence. The world beyond this room could wait, I reasoned, but only for so long. My fingers brushed against her mane, the silky strands slipping between them like water. “Luna,” I murmured, my voice quiet yet insistent. “It’s time to wake.”

She stirred faintly, a sleepy murmur escaping her lips as her hold on me tightened. Amusement curled through me as I watched her resist the inevitable, clinging to the comfort of sleep. In moments like these, she wasn’t the Princess of the Night, the commanding figure who carried the weight of Equestria’s darkness. She was simply Luna — my Luna.

A part of me wanted to let her sleep, to keep her here in this fleeting sanctuary. But the moon would not rise on its own, and I knew her sense of duty rivaled my own. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, my lips brushing against the cool silk of her coat. “Come on, Luna,” I coaxed gently, my tone laced with affection. “The night awaits.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and her cyan irises caught the faint light like twin jewels. She watched me for a moment. Her expression was softened by the haze of sleep, and before long a slow, sleepy smile curved her lips. “Must we rise so soon, my dear apprentice?” she asked, her voice teasing and her words edged with the remnants of her dreams.

I chuckled softly while my hand rested on the small of her back. “You wouldn’t want to miss your moonrise,” I replied.

Her sigh was a quiet thing, reluctant but resigned. “You are right, as always,” she said, though her words carried no real sting. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she began to move, her movements deliberate as if savoring every second before she left the sanctuary of our bed.

As she shifted, I sat up, the cool air of the room biting against my skin and stealing the warmth she’d left behind. I stretched cautiously, the ache in my shoulder flaring briefly as the stitches pulled against tender skin. It was a dull pain, one I’d grown accustomed to since the injury, but it served as a constant reminder of why Luna worried over me the way she did.

I crossed the room to the balcony, the door responding to my touch as I released the Arcane Lock. The evening air greeted me. The air was cool and invigorating, and carried with it the scent of earth and twilight. The horizon burned with the last lights of day. The sky was transforming into a canvas of oranges and purples blending seamlessly into to paint the encroaching night.

I glanced back, catching Luna’s gaze as she sat up in bed. Her eyes followed me, their intensity an unspoken weight that sent a shiver racing down my spine. There was something different in her expression, a depth of emotion that words would never fully capture. Her gaze traced over me—my scars, my arms, the wound at my shoulder—as though committing every detail to memory.

“Are you coming?” I asked, my voice cutting through the quiet.

Luna blinked, her focus sharpening as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. With a graceful movement, she slid from the bed, the sheets pooling around her hooves as she stood. She joined me without a word, her presence steady and grounding as she stepped onto the balcony.

The night began its slow unfurling around us, stars winking into existence against the deepening sky. Her mane shimmered in the twilight, catching the faint light like liquid starlight. She stood close, her presence an unspoken promise that filled the silence between us.

“I’ll never tire of this view,” I said quietly, though my eyes were fixed on her rather than the sky.

Luna’s smile deepened as her gaze returned to the horizon, a contemplative light in her eyes. “Nor shall I,” she murmured again, her voice carrying a gentle weight. Yet, I knew the truth — we both cherished a view that was not just of the moon or stars.

With an elegant motion, she unfurled her wings, the moonlight catching the silken sheen of each feather. The gesture was graceful, almost instinctual, as though she might lift off into the sky at any moment. Yet she remained grounded, wings outstretched toward the heavens, her presence radiating an effortless majesty.

“Would you care to join me for the moonrise, my dear apprentice?” she asked, her tone playful but tinged with sincerity.

I stepped closer until we stood side by side, our sides nearly touching. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

A faint smile touched her lips before she closed her eyes, drawing in a steady breath. I felt it immediately — the subtle shift in the atmosphere as her magic stirred. It was ancient, primal, and beautiful, a deep well of power that resonated with the celestial dance she commanded. The sky obeyed her will, surrendering the last golden hues of sunset to the indigo embrace of night.

Silently, I watched as the moon ascended, slow and deliberate, until its radiant silver light bathed the world. It felt sacred, watching her guide the celestial body with such intimacy, as though the moon itself were a trusted companion she had known through centuries of solitude and sorrow.

When the moon reached its zenith, Luna opened her eyes. Her serene expression was illuminated by the moonlight. There was a quiet satisfaction in her gaze, a sense of fulfillment that I cherished to see. The sight filled me with an overwhelming sense of love for her, for everything she was and everything she had endured.

“Beautiful,” I whispered. Not just about the moonrise, but about her, about the moment we were sharing.

Her smile softened, as though she understood. “It is,” she replied, her eyes lingering on mine, their warmth stealing my breath.

The last traces of sunlight faded, leaving us bathed in the moon’s cool light. The night was ours again, as it always had been, but the intimacy of this moment made it feel infinitely more meaningful. Memories of the previous night — our confessions, our shared vulnerabilities — lingered like an unspoken promise.

Drawn by an irresistible urge, I reached out. My hand came to rest over her chest, just above her heart, where the faint line of an old scar lay hidden beneath her fur. My fingers traced its length gently, reverently, as though to honor the pain it symbolized.

Her gaze held mine, its intensity making my heart pound. I felt the steady beat beneath my palm, the strength and fragility of life intertwined. In her eyes, I saw a depth of trust that humbled me, a love that left me speechless. She leaned into my touch, the smallest of gestures that spoke volumes.

“Sebastian,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with care. “I expect you to take it easy for the next few days. Your shoulder needs time to heal, and I would have you at your best for the Gala.”

The Gala. A glittering spectacle meant to celebrate Canterlot’s foundation, filled with nobles, dignitaries, and social pretense. Hardly my ideal event. Yet if Luna wished me to attend, I’d endure it without complaint.

“I promise,” I replied with a small smile, my thumb brushing over her scar. “No reckless heroics until I’m good as new.”

She nodded, a trace of tension leaving her shoulders. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to miss it, even if…” Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “The Gala itself isn’t exactly my favorite occasion.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Not a fan of grand festivities?”

Her laughter, light and melodic, filled the night air. “A thousand years ago, they were insufferably dull and bore a far less glamorous name. Even now, Celestia insists on my attendance, promising that each year will be… more engaging.” She rolled her eyes, but there was undeniable affection in her voice when she spoke of her sister.

She spoke of Celestia with such fondness that it confused me. How could she forgive her after all this? If I were in her position could I do the same? Forgive, and love so easily, the one who has hurt me so?

I do not know. I do not wish to know.

I shook off the thought, unwilling to let it cloud this precious moment. Instead, I focused on the mare before me — her strength, her grace, her unyielding heart. She was here, now, and that was all that mattered.

“I’ll need a suit for the occasion,” I mused, already mentally noting the preparations I’d need to make. “And maybe a haircut. I have been away long enough that I’m starting to look like I live in the wilds.”

Luna’s eyes roamed over me. Her gaze lingered on my hair, the slight scruff on my jaw, and then down the length of my body which was still bare from the waist up. There was a brief instance of something in her eyes — appreciation, perhaps. But Luna quickly schooled her expression into something more stoic. That stoic mask did nothing to hide the faint hint of color that graced her cheeks.

“I think you’ll look quite handsome,” she teased. “Though I must admit, I rather like the way you look right now.”

I grinned at her, my hand slipping from her chest to take one of her hooves in mine. “I’ll make sure to clean up nicely, just for you.”

Her eyes softened and for a moment she looked as if she might say something more. Words that tugged at the edges of her heart. Instead she squeezed my hand gently with her hoof.

“Come,” she said, glancing back toward the open balcony doors. “We should head inside. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

We stepped back into the cozy familiarity of my room, the gentle warmth inside a comforting contrast to the crisp night air. Moonlight streamed in through the balcony doors, casting a soft glow across the space, shadows pooling like ink in the corners. The quiet sounds of the night filtered in, but my attention was fixed solely on the alicorn by my side.

Luna’s eyes briefly fell on Aldin, nestled snugly in his perch, before returning to me. Her lips curved into a subtle and mischievous smile. “I have royal duties to attend to,” she said reluctantly. “But I trust you’ll find ways to occupy yourself?”

I nodded, gesturing toward the spellbook on the desk near my bed. “Plenty of studying to do. I’ll be ready for your return.”

Her smile deepened, the playfulness fading into something tender. She stepped closer, the soft shimmer of her mane cascading like liquid starlight around her. Her voice lowered, intimate and knowing. “You realize, don’t you, that I always feel your gaze upon me?”

Her words caught me off guard, and warmth surged to my cheeks. Before I could offer a reply, she leaned in, her lips capturing mine in a kiss that stole the breath from my lungs. It wasn’t gentle or reserved but deep and consuming, a collision of need and affection. Her tongue grazed mine, her presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

I responded instinctively, my good hand sliding to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her ethereal mane as I pulled her closer. Her body pressed against mine, soft and warm, and every rational thought evaporated under the weight of her kiss. The taste of her, the faint scent of moonlit air and something uniquely Luna, flooded my senses, leaving me utterly spellbound.

When she finally broke the kiss, I was left breathless. Luna had left my heart pounding so fiercely that I thought it might leap from my chest and begone. Her lips were parted, her breaths coming shallow, and her eyes, half-lidded, sparkled with a smug satisfaction that sent another rush of heat through me. She was enjoying this far too much. Not that I would ever complain. Please continue.

“I like it when you watch me,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that made my knees weak. “And once your shoulder is healed… I’ll make sure you have more to admire.”

The promise laced in her tone was enough to send my thoughts spiraling, but just as I opened my mouth to reply, she stepped back, her absence as palpable as her touch had been. The sudden distance was almost unbearable, leaving me yearning for more.

I cleared my throat, struggling to regain my composure. “I’ll hold you to that,” I managed, my voice rough with lingering desire.

Luna turned toward the door, the Arcane Lock yielding to her as I stepped aside to let her pass. She paused just outside, casting a glance over her shoulder. Her smile was both playful and knowing, her tail flicking once, deliberately. The motion drew my gaze, the sway of her hips mesmerizing as she walked down the corridor, her departure a graceful performance she knew I wouldn’t look away from.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she called over her shoulder, her tone carrying a gentle tease.

“I’ll try,” I replied, though my voice was quieter, tinged with a longing I couldn’t hide.

The echo of her hoofsteps faded into the stillness. I lingered by the door, and basked in the remnants of energy that her presence left behind. Shutting the door with a click, I leaned against it. I exhaled a breath I had not realized I had been holding. The room, though unchanged, felt far emptier now. With her absence Luna took with her some vital part of it.

I returned to the desk where my spellbook waited, its pages filled with mysteries I had intended to unravel tonight. But no matter how much I tried to focus, my thoughts kept drifting to her—the feel of her lips on mine, the way her gaze had pierced through me, the promise she had left lingering in the air. The quiet hum of her magic and the warmth of her touch were still imprinted on me, as vivid as the night sky.

As I sat down, opening the book, I knew I wouldn’t get far. Not tonight. Her absence weighed heavily on me, her presence etched into every corner of my mind. The room felt too quiet, too still, and though I tried to push the longing aside, it clung to me like a shadow.

The hours stretched ahead, but the thought of her, of what awaited us, would remain with me, the night our shared canvas, painted with promises yet to be fulfilled.

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts aside for now. My work required me to focus. But as I turned back toward my desk, I caught sight of a pair of bright, amber eyes watching me from across the room.

Aldin.

His feathers fluffed up as if he had just woke from sleep himself. He shot me a look that was quickly becoming all too familiar. I could practically feel the amusement radiating through our empathic link.

“You were watching the whole time, weren’t you, best-buddy?” I asked, unable to keep the fondness out of my voice as I approached him.

Aldin let out a soft hoot that, to anyone else, would have sounded like a simple owl call. But I knew better. “Of course I was. Couldn’t miss a moment like that, now could I?” He was filled with the kind of smug satisfaction only he could pull off.

I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. “You seem awfully pleased with yourself.”

He fluffed his feathers even more, practically preening under my gaze. “Why wouldn’t I be? I knew it was only a matter of time before you two admitted what everyone with functioning eyes could see.”

I let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to scratch the top of his head lightly. “So, you’re saying you planned all this?”

“More, or less,”Aldin puffed up proudly, his chest feathers rising as he gave an exaggerated nod. “Guided her right to your door, I did. You should be thanking me.”

I paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “So, it was you who led her here yesterday?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief, and he let out a satisfied hoot. “Who else? I saw the state you were in and figured you could use the help. Not to mention, it was the perfect opportunity to push things along.”

I shook my head in disbelief, a smile tugging at my lips. “You little matchmaker.”

“Someone had to do it,” Aldin replied, his tone filled with playful smugness. “You’ve been pining after her for ages, and I couldn’t just sit back and watch you stitch yourself up like that. Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

I sighed, though the affection I felt for him was evident in my voice, and I’m certain he could feel it through our link. “Yeah, it did. But you could’ve warned me, you know.”

“And spoil the surprise?” he said with a wink in his tone. “Where’s the fun in that?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Aldin gave a little shrug, his wings fluttering lightly. “That’s why you keep me around, Seb. Someone’s got to look out for you, and let’s face it, I’m the best at it.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Aldin had been by my side from the start, always knowing just when to step in — even if his methods were unconventional. “I suppose I owe you one, then,” I said, giving him another gentle scratch.

He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again to fix me with a serious stare. “Just make sure you don’t screw this up, okay? She’s special.”

My heart softened at his words. “I know, Aldin. I know.”

For a moment, the room was filled with a comfortable silence. Aldin watched me with those keen eyes of his, as if he could see right through me — which, honestly, he probably could. I gave him a reassuring smile, one that he returned with a satisfied nod before settling back into his nest.

With one last glance at him, I turned back to my spellbook, though I knew my focus would be scattered tonight. The warmth of Luna’s kiss still lingered on my lips, and the knowledge that Aldin had been the one to bring us together filled me with a sense of gratitude.

He really is the best damn familiar a guy could ask for.

I settled into the chair at my desk, my spellbook lying open before me, the pages filled with meticulously inscribed runes and arcane symbols. My left shoulder ached with a dull throb, a constant reminder of the wound I had sustained. Luna’s careful stitching had done the job, but the pain lingered, a steady background noise that I did my best to ignore.

I focused on the task at hand. There were two new spells I needed to recreate — Dimension Door and Summon Monster IV. Each spell required absolute concentration, precision in the lines and curves of the runes, and an understanding of the magical theory that underpinned them. I felt inspiration begin to flow through me as I began to work.

I started with Dimension Door. The spell offered tremendous utility, an invaluable tool for situations where a repositioning is necessary. My hand moved steadily as I inscribed the symbols, my mind visualizing the various scenarios in which this spell could come into play.

Next was Summon Monster IV, a spell that allowed me to call forth more powerful creatures from other planes to aid me in battle. Each tier of Summon Monster grants ever more useful summons, it is a shame that the healing summons only start appearing at fifth-level and above.

The hours passed as I worked, the room filled with the quiet scratching of my quill against parchment. Despite my best efforts to minimize movement of my left shoulder, the pain occasionally made itself known. However, in spite of the pain, I felt a sense of satisfaction as I completed the final inscriptions. These spells would serve me well in the future, and I knew they were essential additions to my growing arsenal of magic.

Checking the location of the moon, I was surprised to see how little time had passed. Dimension Door and Summon Monster IV were successfully inscribed into my spellbook, and with so much time left in the night I decided to move on to the next project — the creation of nonlethal metamagic.

Luna had always been a force in battle, pushing me to my limits in our training sessions. And while I admired her strength and resilience, the idea of inflicting true harm on her unsettled me. I needed a way to control my magic, to turn lethal force into something less final without diminishing its effectiveness. Developing the nonlethal metamagic allows me to finish fights, without the threat of death or maiming hanging over each cast spell.

As I considered the metamagic further, I ran through the potential applications in my mind. Spells such as Fireball and Lightning could be used to incapacitate large numbers of targets from a distance.

The potential was there, and sparring with Luna would be the perfect testing ground. I knew she would appreciate the practical value in being able to take enemies alive, and the lack of charred flesh is a nice bonus too.

The quill moved over the page, sketching out the formula for layering nonlethal metamagic over my spells. It was delicate work, adjusting the structure of the magic just enough to change the damage output without losing the essence of the spell. I leaned forward, my hand steady as I drew the final line on the page, feeling the satisfaction that came with progress.

Once the inscriptions were completed and the satisfaction of finishing washed over me, I let out a deep breath. The pain in my shoulder had ebbed into a dull throb, manageable, but always there as a reminder of my injury. I flexed my left arm carefully, feeling the pull of the stitches Luna had placed with such care the night before.

It was healing, but I knew I needed to take it easy for the next few days.

Pushing back from my desk, I scanned the nearby bookshelf, looking for something to occupy the rest of my night. My fingers brushed over various tomes and scrolls, but one book caught my eye: Basic Magic for Unicorn Foals. A small, slim volume, its spine worn from years of use, the simple blue cover unassuming. I pulled it free from the shelf and sat down with it, feeling a strange curiosity rising within me.

This was a book designed for young unicorns — children learning their first spells, cutting their teeth on telekinesis before moving on to something more complex. I had always relied on my arcane methods of casting, manipulating magic through sheer force of will and intricate study. But unicorn magic was fundamentally different, tied to an innate connection between the world around them, and their horns. I would be substituting a horn with my hands.

I thumbed through the pages until I reached the first lesson: telekinesis. It seemed so simple in theory. Unicorn foals used this spell to lift and move objects before they even understood the broader complexities of magic. For them, it was second nature.

I smiled to myself. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

The instructions were straightforward: focus on an object, visualize it moving, and let your magic flow through the world around you to manipulate it. I selected a small quill from my desk as the target, narrowing my gaze on it. Slowly, I extended my right hand, mimicking the gestures described in the book, willing the magic to form.

For a moment, nothing happened. I frowned, trying again, concentrating harder this time. After a few minutes, a faint shimmer danced around the quill, but it remained stubbornly in place. I could feel the magic, raw and restless, but shaping it into the force needed to lift the quill felt elusive, like trying to grab mist with my hands.

I let out a low sigh, shifting my position and lightly rubbing my sore shoulder. This should have been simple, an easy task even for a novice. A novice, I am not, and yet here I am, struggling with something that unicorn children learned almost instinctively.

It was humbling, in a way.

I spent the next hour repeating the process, trying to channel the spell. Every once in a while, the quill would mockingly wobble slightly, but it never fully lifted. Frustration began to creep in, but I reminded myself that this was unfamiliar territory. Unicorn magic wasn’t the same as the arcane magic I had been trained in, and expecting immediate success was a mistake.

Still, the constant failure gnawed at me. I wasn't used to struggling with something so basic. It was... embarrassing. But there was something oddly fascinating about it too, this different kind of magic. It was less rigid, more intuitive, something that flowed naturally rather than being forced. I just hadn’t figured out how to tap into that flow yet. More practice and testing would be needed.

The quiet of my room was interrupted only by the occasional barely audible rustling of the quill as it twitched under my influence. Aldin, still perched in his nest, would occasionally let out a sleepy hoot, as if amused by my efforts.

“Best-buddy,” I muttered under my breath, “even you could probably lift this thing by now.”

But no matter how much I tried, success remained out of reach. The quill lay on the desk, mocking me with its stillness. My shoulder throbbed with each movement, my concentration waning as the ache worsened. Fatigue set in, a heavy weight that pulled at my limbs, and I realized that I would likely push myself too far if I continued.

Rubbing at my eyes, I decided to call it here and head to bed. I placed my hand over my spellbook, preparing to cast Secluded Grimoire. The spell was one of my favorites, a simple way to keep my spellbook safe from prying eyes or potential theft. With a few whispered words and a focused thought, the spellbook began to glow faintly, the pages turning on their own as the runes and symbols shimmered with ethereal light.

Slowly, the book dissolved into lines of energy, the spells within it reflected in the fading light as it vanished from sight. I could feel its presence on the Ethereal Plane, safely tucked away until I needed it again. The spell was complete, and the room seemed quieter, emptier without the book's physical presence.

As I leaned back in my chair, a wave of fatigue washed over me, catching me off guard. My left shoulder ached more intensely now, the strain of the night’s efforts taking its toll. I hadn’t expected to feel this tired so early into the night, but the pain and the concentration required for all the spellwork had drained me more than I realized.

Deciding it was best not to push myself any further, I stood up, careful to avoid any sudden movements that might aggravate my shoulder. I made my way to my bed, the lure of sleep growing stronger with each step. As I lay down, the softness of the bed welcomed me, and I allowed myself to sink into it, the exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket.

As I sank into the bed, the softness enveloped me, a stark contrast to the hard, unforgiving surfaces I had grown accustomed to during the past month. The weariness from my recent exertions, both magical and emotional, pressed down on me, urging my body to surrender to sleep. But as I lay there, something felt off.

Last night, Luna had been beside me, her presence a comforting balm that soothed the ache of solitude I hadn’t even realized had settled into my bones during my time away. With her warmth against me, it had been easy to drift off into the most peaceful sleep I’d had in weeks. But now, with the bed empty, the absence of her closeness was a stark, unsettling contrast.

I shifted slightly, careful not to aggravate the stitches in my left shoulder. The wound throbbed dully, a reminder of the battle that had nearly taken more from me than just blood. The room was quiet, save for the occasional soft rustling from Aldin. It was still the middle of the night, and Luna was undoubtedly busy with her duties. There was no chance she’d be able to return to me anytime soon.

The emptiness beside me was unsettling. It wasn’t just the absence of Luna that troubled me; it was the lack of the familiar weight of Promise, my sword, by my side. I had slept with it at my side for so long during my missions that its presence had become a sort of anchor, something that grounded me in the reality of each day’s struggles. Last night, with Luna in my arms, I had no need for it. But now, without her, the bed felt too empty, too vulnerable.

I hesitated for a moment, then made a decision. Reaching out, I grasped the hilt of Promise, which was leaning against the bedside table. The familiar, cool touch of the metal sent a wave of reassurance through me. Gently, I laid the sword beside me on the bed, its weight against the mattress a comforting presence, almost like a silent sentinel.

With Promise by my side, I felt a little more at ease. The sword had been a constant companion, a reminder of my connection to Luna and the duty I had sworn to uphold. Even though I knew she was out there, busy with her royal responsibilities, having Promise with me felt like a piece of her was still here, watching over me in her own way.

I settled back into the pillows, closing my eyes as I tried to let the tension drain from my body. The ache in my shoulder was persistent but manageable. What weighed more heavily on my mind was the strange mix of emotions I felt — a longing for Luna’s presence, a sense of security with Promise beside me, and an odd discomfort in the solitude of the night.

Sleep came slowly, inching closer with each breath, but not as easily as I had hoped. My mind wandered, replaying the events of the past day, the moments of vulnerability shared with Luna, the tender confessions of love, and the warmth of her kiss. It felt wrong to sleep without her now, as if a vital part of me was missing.

But as the minutes ticked by, the exhaustion I had been fighting against finally began to win. I tightened my grip on the hilt of Promise, drawing comfort from its presence. In the quiet of the night, with only the soft rustle of Aldin’s sleep and the distant sounds of Canterlot outside, I finally began to drift off.

The last thought that flitted through my mind was a simple one — a wish for Luna to return soon, so that the emptiness beside me could be filled once more.

Ditched

The castle gardens were serene, the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle evening breeze. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, its light spilling over the manicured paths and flowerbeds. The air was sweet with the scents of roses and lavender, weaving a tranquil charm into the heart of Canterlot.

Aldin perched above me on a low tree branch, his sharp, watchful eyes scanning the area as though he were guarding his kingdom. Shining Armor stood nearby, leaning casually against a marble statue — a grotesque chimera of mismatched animals, its chaotic form starkly contrasting the elegant pony-themed sculptures surrounding it. He was still in his armor, though his relaxed demeanor made it clear he was off-duty. I sat on a stone bench beneath Aldin’s tree, my eyes closed, letting the evening’s quiet magic wash over me.

“So,” Shining’s voice broke the calm, his tone casual but teasing. “How are things going with the Princess of the Night?” His smirk betrayed the playful intent behind the question as he adjusted his lean on the bizarre statue.

I cracked an eye open, peering at him over the rim of my shades. The question wasn’t entirely unexpected — Shining wasn’t oblivious, and considering who his fiancée was, it wasn’t hard to imagine how he’d found out. Still, I was curious.

“I don’t recall telling you about Luna and I,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Care to share how you pieced it together?”

Shining’s grin widened. “Cadance, of course. Who else? She’s the Princess of Love. She predicted you two would hit it off the moment she saw you together.”

I groaned, though the thought of Cadance meddling brought a smile to my face. “Should’ve guessed. Let me guess — you two had a bet going?”

“Not this time,” Shining replied with a shrug. “I know better than to bet against her on matters of love. But yeah, she called it. Said it was only a matter of time before you and Luna figured it out. And, surprise, surprise — she was right again.” He flashed a knowing smile, one that spoke of someone familiar with love’s subtle currents. “So, how’s that working out for you?”

I let out a slow breath, my thoughts drifting to Luna and the week since our confessions. “It’s been… good. Different, but in the best way. Feels new, you know? Like every moment with her just… clicks. It’s more real than anything I’ve ever known.”

Shining nodded, his expression softening into something more genuine. “I know exactly what you mean.” His gaze wandered over the garden before returning to me, sincerity in his eyes. “I’m happy for you, really.”

“Thanks,” I said, the words settled nicely into my chest.

We sat in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of the garden filling the space between us. Above me, Aldin hooted softly, content in the calm.

“It’s been too long since we hung out like this,” Shining said eventually. “With the Gala coming up, the barracks have been chaos. I was hoping to take it easy this year, but then Vanhoover came up.”

“Vanhoover?” I asked, frowning. “What’s happening there?”

Shining rubbed the back of his neck, his sheepish expression betraying his discomfort. “Diplomatic stuff. Nothing major, but Cadance and I got the assignment. We’re heading out in a couple of days.”

Aldin tilted his head curiously at the mention, his wings shifting slightly.

“Wait, so you’re not going to the Gala?” I asked, the news taking a moment to land.

“Yeah,” Shining said with an apologetic shrug. “Not this year.I was hoping we could all catch up there, but duty calls. Honestly, you’re not missing much. Galas are way more boring than they sound.”

I tried to hide my disappointment, but Shining caught it anyway. He nudged me with his elbow, his grin returning. “Don’t tell me you’re actually excited for a fancy party.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not really. Just thought it’d be nice to see you and Cadance there. Having a few friendly faces helps.”

Shining nodded. “Yeah, I get that. For what it’s worth, I’m bummed we are missing it too. Cadance was especially looking forward to watching you and Luna navigate the night together. Guess we’ll have to hear about it later.”

I laughed quietly, shaking my head. “Tell Cadance she’s not getting a play-by-play from me.”

“Don’t worry,” Shining replied, smirking. “She’ll find a way to pry it out of you. She always does.”

I rolled my eyes, though the small smile tugging at my lips betrayed my amusement. “Don’t worry. Between Luna and Aldin, I’ve got more than enough company to keep me from losing my mind.”

The gentle rustling of leaves filled the silence between us, the evening breeze weaving through the gardens. It felt good to talk so openly, even if the idea still felt foreign.

“Speaking of Luna,” Shining broke the silence, leaning a bit more casually against the statue, “you ready for the Gala? You know how these Canterlot noble types can be: all pomp, posturing, and fake charm. You’ll have to put on quite the show to match their energy.”

I smirked with a shake of my head. “Don’t you worry, Shining. I have spent plenty of practice pretending to be something I’m not. I’ll play the part if I have to, but honestly? I’m mostly there for her.”

“You’re braver than me,” Shining said with a chuckle, running a hoof through his mane. “Those things are unbearable. The forced smiles, the endless small talk... It’s enough to make a guy wish for a rogue changeling invasion.”

I laughed, the mental image of Shining running for the hills at the sight of nobles more amusing than it had any right to be. “You’re not wrong. Still, I knew what I was getting into. It’s part of the package deal when you date a princess.”

Shining’s expression softened, his tone turning serious. “Just... don’t let them push you around, alright? You’re not just her apprentice anymore, Seb. That’s a big deal, and you’ve more than earned your place. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

I caught his gaze and the sincerity there caught me off guard. Shining knew better than most what it meant to stand by royalty. It wasn’t always easy, and his words hit deeper than he probably realized.

“I won’t,” I said firmly, appreciating the support. “Thanks, Shining.”

“Anytime,” he replied, flashing a grin. “It’s my job as your unofficial wingman.”

Aldin, who had been observing from his perch, decided it was his moment to shine. With a practiced flutter, he landed on my shoulder, nudging my cheek with his beak. Through our empathic link, I could feel his amusement. "Wingman? Is that what we’re calling it now? I thought that was my job."

“Hey, you’re more of a co-pilot,” I shot back, smirking.

“Co-pilot?” Aldin let out a hoot of mock offense, ruffling his feathers. “That’s rich coming from someone who’d probably crash without me.”

Shining chuckled, shaking his head at our exchange. “You two are something else.”

“Oh, speaking of stories,” Aldin said slyly, turning his gaze toward me, his tone laced with mischief. “You never did tell me about the leash.”

I grinned as Shining visibly stiffened, his ears perking up in alarm. “Ah, yes,” I began, leaning back against the bench, “the Golden Horseshoe incident. A classic.”

Shining’s hoof shot up like he was ready to block incoming artillery. “Nope. Don’t you dare. That story is forbidden.”

“But Shining,” I said, my voice dripping with feigned innocence, “it’s such a good story. You were stumbling through walls—no, *pointing* at walls—thinking they were doors. And then Cadance—”

“Lalalalala! Can’t hear you!” Shining clamped his hooves over his ears, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red as he shouted over me.

I couldn’t hold it anymore and burst into laughter, my shoulders shaking as Aldin joined in with a series of amused hoots. The poor stallion looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “Never speak of it again?”

“Never,” Shining growled, glaring at me through the remnants of his embarrassment.

“Fair enough.”

As the laughter died down, the warm camaraderie lingered. Shining stretched, his armor clinking faintly as he stood. “Alright, I should get going. Cadance’ll kill me if I’m late for dinner again.”

I gave him a mock salute. “Good luck with that. You’re gonna need it.”

“Same to you at the Gala,” he shot back with a smirk. “Try not to cause too much of a scene without me around to back you up.”

“No promises,” I replied with a grin.

As he walked away, his silhouette faded into the twilight, leaving Aldin and me alone once more. The garden grew quiet. A quiet that was only broken by the rare rustle of leaves or Aldin’s occasional hoot. Basking in the peace of another encroaching evening, I settled into my bench further.

“Do you think he will ever live that down?” Aldin asked, his tone still rich with amusement.

“Not a chance,” I replied, smiling as I looked out at the darkening horizon.

Gala

The Grand Galloping Gala was everything I'd expected: stuffy, overly formal, and impossibly boring.

I had been right from the start — this night would be unforgettable, alright… Unforgettably fucking dull.

Nobles strutted around like peacocks, each one preening in their overly extravagant outfits, trying to outshine the next with pointless small talk and hollow smiles. Celestia’s promise of an interesting Gala felt like a cruel joke. Luna had dangled the reward of a ‘special sparring session’ afterward, and that was probably the only thing keeping me from disrupting this parade of fools.

I tugged at my collar, the stiff fabric of my custom-tailored suit pressing against my neck. It fit perfectly, but the formality was stifling. I was more used to the freedom of my usual gear — the kind that let me move, fight, breathe. This, though… this was for appearances, and Luna had made it clear that appearances mattered here. Especially for someone in my position. So, for her, I would endure this game of extravagance.

Still, the fit of the suit wasn’t the only thing making me feel out of place.

The Teashades of Night rested comfortably on my face, their dark lenses more of a statement than a necessity in this overly lit ballroom. Darkvision wasn’t needed within a place like this, but they offered a sort of connection to the world I was more accustomed to. Meanwhile, the Laurel of Vast Intelligence sat atop my head, its silver leaves catching the chandelier light with a faint gleam. Nobles fluttered around the room aimlessly their only guide being each other in their shared procession towards the princesses, their eyes flicking between Celestia and Luna, with whispered gossip and thinly veiled glances.

Luna stood beside me, a beacon of night's elegance in her black crown, silver shoes, and the familiar black peytral emblazoned with her mark. She exuded her usual regal beauty, but I could sense the underlying tension just beneath the surface. Like me, her presence here wasn't ideal, and her mind was already far ahead, no doubt focused on the sparring session awaiting us later. A mutual, unspoken countdown to when the real fun would begin.

Aldin perched on my shoulder, his feathers ruffling as he scanned the room. Through our link, I felt his shared disdain for the endless display of pomp. He wasn’t impressed, and to be honest, neither was I. He gave off the occasional flicker of mild curiosity, but mostly, it was a shared impatience. I could feel it — he too wanted to be anywhere but here.

On Luna’s other side, Celestia stood tall and radiant in her golden regalia, projecting her usual mixture of serenity and authority. The nobles crowded around her like moths drawn to a flame, eager to immolate themselves in their poor attempts to garner a shred of attention. Meanwhile, only a handful made their way over to Luna, offering polite nods and brief platitudes before scurrying back into Celestia’s orbit.

It was hard not to notice how stark the difference was. While Celestia was practically smothered in admiration and sycophantic praise, Luna was left on the sidelines, her presence acknowledged but never truly celebrated. It was frustrating. I could see the respect they showed her, but it was always formal, devoid of the warmth and adoration they reserved for her sister.

Luna wore the mask of indifference well, but I knew her better than that. She'd grown used to the nobles' lackluster treatment, the polite but empty gestures that barely acknowledged her. It was a routine she’d come to expect, but it did not sit right with me, and it never would. They had no idea who they were slighting. And maybe they didn’t care, but I did.

The line of nobles continued to snake its way toward us, each one with the same fawning display of affection for Celestia. Flowery compliments flowed as if they'd rehearsed them in front of mirrors, followed by a quick, obligatory greeting to Luna before they scurried off. The monotony was nauseating.

I fought the growing urge to roll my eyes. The tedium was gnawing at me now, testing the limits of my patience. But Luna had asked me to be here, and that was all the reason I needed to endure. Besides, I knew what awaited us after the Gala, and the thought alone was enough to keep me from snapping due to hearing the same empty pleasantries over and over again.

I stood by Luna’s side, quiet but present, offering the occasional nod or polite smile when appropriate. Even shaking the rare hoof every now and then. The tension inside me simmered. This wasn’t my world. I wasn’t built for political games or grand events like this, but I wasn’t here for the sake of rubbing elbows with the elite. I was here for her. And that made it worth the discomfort.

At least none of them wished to speak to me.

Another noble approached, bowing so deeply to Celestia I thought they might fall over. The praise that followed was as excessive as ever, something about her sun shining brighter than ever, or some such nonsense. I stifled a sigh, shifting my stance, letting my gaze drift while still half-listening to the endless parade of sycophancy. The Gala truly was a portrait of excess: lavish decorations, stifling formality, and an endless stream of shallow compliments.

Then, just as I began to wonder how much longer this could possibly drag on, the ballroom doors creaked open. The room's energy shifted slightly, and I glanced toward the entrance.

Twilight Sparkle and her friends had arrived.

Twilight entered the ballroom with wide, eager eyes, brimming with excitement. She beelined for Celestia, while her friends scattered in all directions as soon as they crossed the threshold, each one disappearing into the Gala’s festivities with their own priorities in mind.

As Twilight’s hooves carried her straight toward Celestia with an eager smile. Only Spike was left at the entrance, the young dragon standing there looking a little lost. Abandoned, by all of his friends.

Ouch.

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight’s voice rang out, filled with excitement as she reached her mentor.

Celestia turned to her student, offering a warm smile. “Twilight, my faithful student. I’m so glad you could make it.”

Twilight practically beamed at her words, clearly hoping for a few moments of her undivided attention. But before she could say much more, another noble stepped forward, bowing and offering some extravagant flattery to Celestia. Twilight’s smile faltered as she watched her mentor turn back to her duties. Celestia greeted yet another pony eager to bask in her presence.

Twilight hesitated. She shuffled her hooves as she stood on the sidelines as she waited for her chance to speak with Celestia again. Unfortunately for Twilight, the endless stream of nobles vying for Celestia's attention showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

Luna’s gaze met mine and a spark of amusement passed between us as she caught sight of Twilight’s predicament. I couldn’t help but smirk at the irony — even in a room full of Equestria’s elite, all Twilight wanted was time with Celestia, and yet she was stuck waiting behind the endless line of sycophants.

“Well,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for Luna to hear, “seems Twilight’s night might be even longer than ours.”

Luna let out a soft chuckle, her eyes flicking briefly toward her sister and Twilight. “It appears so,” she murmured back, her voice low and laced with amusement. “Though, I suspect Celestia enjoys keeping her student on her hooves.”

I glanced at her, catching the playful glint in her eyes. Luna knew her sister better than anyone, and there was a hint of mischief in her expression. She could see the humor in Twilight’s struggle, and I could tell she found some satisfaction in it. Perhaps this was a part of Celestia's ploy?

Aldin shifted restlessly on my shoulder, his wings twitching slightly. I could feel his boredom through our link, and I couldn't blame him for it. I tilted my head toward him and with a soft nudge, I whispered, “Go on, best-buddy. You're free to find yourself some entertainment. I’m sure the garden’s more interesting than this. I’ll manage here.”

With an eager hoot, Aldin stretched his wings and took off, soaring over the heads of the gathered ponies and disappearing out into the gardens. I felt his excitement ripple through our bond as he left, happy to escape the stuffy confines of the ballroom in search of something more engaging.

Luna watched him go, her lips curling into a small smile. "He is wise to escape," she remarked. "I would do the same if I could."

I chuckled, my gaze lingering on her longer than I intended. “You and me both,” I replied, that brief moment of shared humor just enough to momentarily break the monotony.

She had once confessed, in one of our quieter moments, that she liked it when I looked at her — really looked at her. Now, I couldn’t help myself. The way the soft light from the chandeliers caught the midnight hues of her coat, the way her ethereal mane seemed to shimmer with a life of its own, flowing with the stars themselves... There was something deeply magnetic about her, something that drew me to her no matter how many times I saw her.

Her eyes met mine, and in that instant, the noise of the Gala receded into a distant murmur. Her gaze softened, the regal mask of hers slipping for just a moment, revealing the hidden warmth beneath. It was the same warmth she reserved for when it was just the two of us, a look that always made the rest of the world insignificant.

“I can feel your thoughts wandering, Sebastian,” she said quietly, her voice like velvet, rich with affection.

“Can you blame me?” I answered, my tone light but honest. “I don’t get to see you like this very often.” And it was true — seeing Luna in full regal form, commanding a room, was a rare sight, but one I never tire of. Even now, surrounded by nobles who barely deserved her time, she radiated power, grace, and an allure that was hard to describe.

She tilted her head, and flashed me a teasing smile. “And here I thought you would be more captivated by the charm of the Gala.”

“Not a chance,” I replied, smirking. “I’m just waiting for the part where we get to leave.”

Her laughter was soft, a sound so subtle it barely escaped her lips, but it was enough to send a pleasant warmth curling through my chest. "Soon," she promised, her voice dipping into something private, meant only for me. "But not yet. Patience, my dear apprentice."

I sighed, resigned to the situation. The line of nobles seemed never-ending, a steady stream of ponies eager for their moment with the princesses. Flattery after flattery, each one more insincere than the last, filled the air as they paid their respects to Celestia first, before sparing a quick, obligatory nod to Luna.

I stood by her side, silently enduring the spectacle, my thoughts wandering despite myself. This wasn’t my world — it never had been. Yet, here I was, a part of this world for her. Always for her.

Minutes dragged into what felt like hours. Occasionally, I’d glance over at Celestia, who managed her side of the room with the same effortless grace, all while Twilight hovered nearby. Her eager eyes trailed after her mentor, growing more frustrated with each interruption. Every time Twilight tried to speak, another noble stepped in, monopolizing Celestia’s attention. It was all rather painful to watch.

Suppressing a yawn, I shifted my weight, my eyes scanning the room once again. The interactions between the nobles were so predictable — overly-polished smiles, exaggerated compliments, whispers that carried the weight of gossip while lacking any real substance.

But my focus always came back to Luna. Even here, surrounded by shallow courtiers who barely acknowledged her, she stood tall, regal, and unwavering. The strength it took for her to endure this. To maintain her dignity in spite of the indifference of those around her was something I admired more than I could ever hope to express. It reminded me of the battles she had faced, the ones I knew scarred her both physically and emotionally. Luna was resilient and that resilience drew me to her like a moth to a flame. I found myself wishing to be burned.

Just as I was starting to mentally check out again, a loud crash echoed from deeper within the Gala, snapping me out of my daze. The sudden sound sent a ripple of unease through the room, and I immediately turned toward the source of the noise.

Instinctively, I reached for my sword — only to find it wasn’t there. I cursed under my breath. Celestia had insisted I leave Promise behind for the Gala, and while I respected her decision, it left me feeling exposed.

That’s okay. I can make do with just my hands.

Making haste, I began weaving my way through the crowd. The closer I got, the more obvious it became that something was going on. Ponies were talking in hushed tones, some looking worried while others seemed more curious than anything.

I pushed open the doors to the main hall, stepping inside just in time to see chaos already reigning.

Someone had given Pinkie Pie a turntable and she had taken to DJing and — in her infinite genius — then decided to dive off the stage and start a cake space program using the multi-tiered cake Applejack just so happened to be pushing around on a cart. The aforementioned cake flew through the air aiming for Prince Blueblood, but luckily for him, Rarity decided to take one for the team and tanked the cake for him, resulting in her getting splattered instead. Her fancy dress was caked… in cake.

Wow, I never would’ve expected Rarity to make that kind of sacrifice play!

Never mind, she’s strangling him.

Rainbow Dash had decided that now was a good time to balance a statue on her back, resulting in pillars crashing down and shattering, sending chunks of stone skidding across the marble floor.

I stood there at the entrance to the main hall, taking a moment to clean the lenses of my shades. And yet, when I put them back on, the insane shit before me was still continuing. I should do something. I should try to put a stop to this anarchy, but if I did then it would be back to boring Gala shit. Somehow, no one looks like they’re hurt, and this is far more enjoyable than any Gala!

Luna, Twilight, and Celestia had just entered the main hall. Celestia surveyed the scene with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. Twilight looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown. Luna, for her part, simply looked resigned, as if she had expected this all along.

The scene in the main hall was pure chaos. Pinkie Pie was still attempting to DJ, her music serving only to give the chaos a soundtrack. Rarity, covered in cake, had Blueblood in a headlock, while Rainbow Dash was on a rampage, sending statues crashing down with reckless abandon. The sheer level of madness was enough to make me briefly reconsider all my life choices that had led up to this moment.

At least it can’t get worse.

Then it got worse.

The door leading to a section of the garden was flung open so hard that the hinges snapped and broke. A stampede of animals rushed into the hall, scattering in every direction. With the horde of animals spreading out, Fluttershy now stood visible in the now broken doorway, clearly very much off her rocker. And there, perched atop her head, flapping and hooting away in joy, was Aldin.

"You're going to LOVE ME!" Fluttershy roared at the fleeing animals, her voice a terrifying mix of desperation and fury.

“WHEEEEE!” Aldin hooted from atop the head of the enraged pegasus, clearly having the time of his life.

“Nah,” I said, beginning the necessary motions and incantations to cast a nonlethal Fireball. "Fuck that."

“Sebastian!” Luna’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “No Fireballs!”

“They’ll survive. I already put the nonlethal metamagic into it—” I began, my voice casual as I continued the incantation, but the hard look Luna gave me made me pause. She didn’t need to say anything more. With a sheepish grin, I let the spell unravel before it could be wasted. “Okay, no Fireballs.”

The chaos showed no signs of abating. Rarity was still throttling Blueblood, Rainbow Dash darted overhead with chunks of a shattered statue in her hooves, and Pinkie Pie… well, Pinkie was being Pinkie, bouncing through the mayhem with gleeful abandon. Meanwhile, Fluttershy was desperately trying to wrangle the terrified animals back into the garden, her usual gentle demeanor replaced by an expression of pure fury that would strike terror into the bravest of hearts. Perched atop her head, Aldin seemed unbothered by the chaos, enjoying the ride with a contented chirp.

Princess Celestia, observing the pandemonium, turned to Luna, Twilight, and I, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. “You know,” she said, her tone calm despite the bedlam surrounding us all, “I think it might be time for all of us to make our exit.”

Twilight blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting such a suggestion from her mentor. “Princess Celestia, are you serious?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

Celestia chuckled softly, gesturing toward the rest of Twilight’s friends, who were currently contributing to the disarray. “Twilight, why don’t you and your friends join us at Donut Joe's? I think we could all use a break from this excitement.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Donut Joe's? That does sound like a welcome change from this disaster.”

“I’m in,” I said, eager to escape the Gala and its endless tedium.

Twilight hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, Donut Joe's it is.” She turned to gather her friends, who, unsurprisingly, were more than happy to trade the chaos of the Gala for donuts and some peace.

Once we managed to pry Rarity away from the disheveled prince — narrowly avoiding her earning a murder sentence — we made our hasty retreat from the main hall, dodging flying debris and stampeding animals. It was as if the Gala had devolved into some chaotic circus, and we were the only ones with enough sense to escape.

The fresh night air hit me like a cool balm as we stepped outside, leaving the chaos behind us. The distant sounds of shouting and crashes faded, replaced by the peaceful hum of Canterlot's night. For the first time that evening, I felt the tension start to melt away, the weight of the stuffy formalities lifting from my shoulders. Sure, the Gala had turned into a disaster, but that was infinitely better than the slow death by boredom I’d been dreading.

“Honestly, this must have been the most exciting Gala in years,” I muttered to Luna, who gave me a sly smile in return.

As we made our way through the dimly lit streets, the warm, cozy glow of Donut Joe's came into view. It stood in stark contrast to the extravagance of the castle, the simple, welcoming atmosphere a welcome change after the pomp and grandeur we'd just left behind. The soft clinking of cups and the smell of fresh pastries was like an unspoken invitation to leave all the nonsense behind for a while.

Inside, Spike sat at the bar, looking slightly forlorn as he stared down at a mountain of donuts.

“Spike!” Twilight called, her face lighting up as soon as she spotted him. She rushed over, her earlier frustration forgotten in an instant.

He looked up in surprise, his eyes widening as we all entered. “What are you all doing here?” he asked, clearly not expecting company.

“Long story,” I said, unbuttoning my suit jacket to better relax. “Let’s just say the Gala was a bust and leave it at that.”

Spike’s grin widened, clearly pleased to have us join him. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Donut Joe's has the best donuts in all of Equestria.”

I took a booth seat by the window, and relaxed.

The night had turned wild, unpredictable, and everything a Grand Galloping Gala wasn’t supposed to be — but I couldn’t help but appreciate it for exactly that reason. We’d survived the madness, and now, we could finally relax.

Luna sat beside me, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and relief. “I daresay the Gala was… memorable,” she said with a chuckle, her voice low enough for only me to hear.

“Memorable is one way to put it,” I replied, shaking my head. “I think your sister’s going to be busy sorting out the aftermath for a while.”

“She did plan for a more entertaining Gala this year,” Luna said, raising a brow at me. “Though I doubt even she expected this.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Celestia, always with the subtle schemes. Well, at least she got her wish.

As we settled into a booth and placed our orders, I glanced to my side where Luna sat. She caught my eye and smiled — a genuine, warm smile that made my heart skip a beat. Despite everything that had happened tonight, being here with her and the others, surrounded by friendly faces and laughter, made it all worth it.

The atmosphere quickly became relaxed as Donut Joe himself came over, taking orders and chatting amiably with everyone. The scent of fresh donuts, coffee, and hot chocolate filled the air, creating a comforting, homey ambiance that made the Gala feel like a distant memory.

Pinkie Pie was already halfway through her own mountain of donuts, her energy seemingly endless despite the mayhem she had just orchestrated. That pink one is not normal.

Aldin and Fluttershy were engaged in conversation, but only Aldin seemed to fully comprehend the other's words. Fluttershy struggled to interpret the hoots, clicks, and head movements, and despite her best efforts, she was not fluent in owl. I couldn't help but wonder about Fluttershy too — after all, she had broken those doors with ease. But if Aldin trusted her, then she must be alright… probably.

Twilight finally got her time with Celestia. The two sat along with Spike at the bar, discussing the Gala, friendship, and life’s goings-on. Spike just seemed glad to be included in the conversation.

Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash had just taken seats across from Luna and I, exchanging glances before turning their attention onto me. I met their curious gazes with a grin, knowing that naturally questions were about to fly. Rarity broke the silence first.

“Sebastian, darling,” she began, her voice dripping with curiosity, “where did you disappear to after bringing the fillies back to Ponyville?”

I took a moment, nursing my coffee and unnecessarily adjusting my shades to buy myself some time to collect myself. “Well, after making sure they were safe and sound, I headed back to Canterlot,” I said casually, as though it were something casual and everyday. “I had some, uh, personal matters to attend to.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Personal matters, huh? You were lookin’ mighty worse for wear when you brought them fillies back. Hope you didn’t overdo it.”

I chuckled, appreciating the concern. “It was a bit rough. The hydra got a good bite in, I’ll admit, but I’m fully healed now. Just a few scars to remember it by.”

Rainbow Dash leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “You fought a hydra and didn’t tell us? Come on, spill! How did you take it down?”

“It was a tough fight,” I admitted, a smirk sneaking onto my mouth as I recalled the battle. “The original plan was to play it smart — lop off a few heads, keep my distance, avoid a direct melee confrontation. But when those fillies got caught in the middle, I had to switch it up. It was more about keeping them safe than anything else.”

Rarity let out a sigh of relief, her posture relaxing. “Thank goodness you were there to save Sweetie Belle and her friends. You’re quite the hero, Sebastian.”

Feeling a little embarrassed, I suddenly found the floor tiles very interesting. “I was just lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time.”

Applejack gave a nod of agreement. “Ain’t that the truth. But still, we owe ya for keepin’ ‘em safe.”

Rainbow Dash playfully punched my arm. “Next time you’re up against something epic like that, you gotta let me know. I’d love to get in on the action.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dash.”

Over the next few minutes, everyone around us splintered off into different groups around the donut shop, each absorbed in their own conversations about the Gala’s chaos. Eventually, I found myself alone, except for Luna sitting beside me.

As the next round of donuts arrived, my focus drifted entirely away from the assorted pastries in front of me and settled firmly on Luna. The shop's warm glow, softened by the residual energy of the Gala, created a cocoon-like atmosphere around us. There was a strange intimacy in the air, the kind where everything else fades away, and only the person next to you matters. Luna’s presence was magnetic — her midnight-blue coat shimmered under the low light, her ethereal mane moving as if it had a life of its own, casting soft shadows across her face. Being next to her felt like standing at the edge of something breathtaking, thrilling, and just a little dangerous.

Around us, the others were scattered in their own worlds. Fluttershy and Aldin were slowly approaching upon the common understanding for Aldin's word for 'door'. Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack huddled together, rehashing the Gala’s unexpected turn of events, while Pinkie Pie had taken her seat as queen of donut mountain — a comically large cup of chocolate milk in one hoof, a donut in the other, and a now restocked pile of donuts to consume before her. At the bar, Twilight, Spike, and Celestia were still absorbed in conversation — Twilight, in particular, looking eager to make up for lost time with her mentor after being sidelined by the Gala’s endless line of pompous nobles. Spike just looked happy to not be left behind.

But at our small booth, it was as if none of that existed. It was just Luna and I, close enough that her warmth seeped into my side, anchoring me in the moment. Every time I looked at her, that spark in her eyes — the one that had been there ever since we confessed our feelings — seemed to flare brighter. The world outside felt distant, as though it existed only to frame this stolen moment between us.

“I must admit,” I said, breaking the silence that had stretched comfortably between us, “I didn’t think this night would end with donuts. Not after everything.”

Luna’s soft laugh sent a shiver down my spine, each note of it warm and teasing. “Life is full of surprises, is it not?” Her voice dropped, just enough to feel more personal, her gaze locking onto mine with a glint of mischief. “Though I must say, I find myself enjoying these particular surprises... especially when the company is so pleasant.”

I felt my pulse quicken at her words, the teasing lilt in her voice stirring something deeper in me. “Well,” I said, matching her tone, “if all surprises were like this, I’d be more than happy to endure them.”

Her eyes flickered down, just briefly, to my lips before meeting my gaze again. “Endure, hmm? I had hoped for more enthusiasm than that, Sebastian,” she teased, her voice velvety and low.

Grinning, I leaned in closer until the distance between us was reduced to a breath. “Oh, trust me, I’m enthusiastic. Just trying to keep it together, you know... apprentice manners and all that.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as her lips twitched, barely suppressing a smile. “Ah, yes, apprentice manners. And here I was under the impression that you enjoyed bending the rules.”

I laughed softly, savoring the banter. “Only when it’s worth it.”

“And is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as her gaze locking with mine. “Worth bending the rules for?”

I held her gaze, feeling the charged air thicken as the playful banter gave way to something deeper. “For you? Always.”

Luna’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile, one that made my stomach flip. “Good," she murmured, her voice oozing with possibility. "Because I plan on pushing your limits to see just how far you're willing to go."

Her words sent a jolt of excitement through me, the playful challenge clear in her tone. Before I could respond, she glanced around the shop, her attention briefly flitting over the others — everyone else had settled into their own groups. It was as though we were in our own world, completely separated from the lively chatter filling Donut Joe’s.

Luna’s gaze returned to me, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “So, tell me,” she said, her voice lilting in a way that made it impossible to tear my attention away from her, “what did you make of the Gala?”

“The Gala? It was what I expected,” I admitted, chuckling. “But I can’t say I’m disappointed. The ending was more... interesting than it had any right to be.”

Luna leaned in closer, her lips curved in a sly smile. “And now? Is this how you imagined the night would end?”

I shook my head, my voice soft as I met her gaze again. “Not at all. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

She levitated a donut with her magic, taking a small bite, her eyes twinkling with the same mischievous energy that always seemed to be lurking just beneath the surface. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” she mused, “how something as simple as a mere donut could bring so much satisfaction.”

I smiled, picking up my own donut, mimicking her playful tone. “It’s always the little things that matter most. Sometimes the simplest moments are the most precious.”

Her brow arched, intrigued. “Simple pleasures, then? And what other simple pleasures do you find unexpectedly delightful, my apprentice?”

Her words held a teasing edge, but there was a challenge in her eyes that sent my heart racing. “Well,” I said, keeping my tone light, “sitting here with a beautiful mare after a night of chaos ranks pretty high.”

As Luna's eyes met mine, time seemed to stand still and the world outside of Donut Joe's disappeared into the background. There was an unexplainable bond between us that had been growing ever since our night in the castle where we truly connected for the first time. In this moment, it felt like that bond was about to burst into flames. A gentle smile spread across her face, but her gaze held me captive.

“You flatter me,” she murmured, her voice quiet and captivating. “But what would you do if that beautiful mare asked for more than just a quiet moment?”

My heart skipped a beat, the weight of her words settling in the space between us. “I suppose I’d have to see what she had in mind,” I replied, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “After all, I’m always eager to learn, especially from such a captivating teacher.”

Luna’s smile deepened, something more than amusement flickering in her eyes. “Then perhaps we should continue your lesson elsewhere,” she said, her voice a quiet purr. “I did promise you a sparring session, did I not?”

Her words sent a thrill through me, anticipation coiling in my chest. My heart pounded in my ears as I nodded, a grin fighting for its right to form. “You did,” I replied, keeping my tone light but unable to hide the excitement that simmered beneath the surface.

Luna stood gracefully from the booth, her wing brushing my shoulder in a subtle, almost teasing gesture. “Then come,” she said softly, her eyes glinting with promise. “Let us see what you have learned.”

I rose to my feet, casting a glance toward Aldin, who was still attempting — and failing — to pierce the language barrier between himself and Fluttershy. The little guy seemed to be enjoying himself, and I knew he’d meet up with me later. He didn’t need to be there for what was about to go down.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” I murmured to Aldin, who gave a casual bob of his head in acknowledgment, not even breaking stride in his attempts at conversation with Fluttershy.

Luna led the way out of Donut Joe’s, and as we stepped into the cool night air, the weight of what was about to happen settled over me. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the streets of Canterlot, the city quiet now that the chaos of the Gala’s end had subsided. The soft clink of Luna’s shoes against the cobblestones echoed faintly as we made our way through the empty streets.

My mind raced. The anticipation of what was to come mingled with the excitement of the surprises I had in store for her. Since I had promised to take it easy physically, I had spent my days of rest preparing, recreating spells in secret while I allowed my shoulder to fully heal. This was no ordinary sparring session; Luna had promised as much. And I had every intention of showing her just how far I’d come since I arrived on Equis.

We walked in silence for a while, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was charged, the tension between us palpable. Luna’s earlier teasing had given way to something more focused, more intense. Her steps were purposeful, her expression growing more serious the closer we got to the castle.

I could feel the change in her. The playful edge she’d had in the donut shop was fading, replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. I’d sparred with her before — I knew what it was like when Luna was serious. And I could tell that tonight was going to be one of those nights. But this time, there was something different in the air, something that made my pulse quicken even more both physically and mentally.

As we rounded a corner, the towering silhouette of Canterlot Castle loomed ahead, its spires bathed in moonlight. The Sparring Grounds were inside, tucked away in a secluded section of the castle where only the most trusted could train. A place where Luna had tested me before, pushing me to my limits.

I glanced at her as we walked, her expression now unreadable, her eyes fixed ahead. She hadn’t said much since we left the shop, but her silence spoke volumes. There was an intensity to her now, a weight in the air that made my skin prickle with anticipation. This wasn’t just about a sparring session anymore — I could feel it in my bones. Something more was coming, something that would change the dynamic between us.

“You seem... focused,” I said, breaking the silence as we walked.

Luna’s gaze flicked toward me, and the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. “It is a serious matter, is it not?” she replied, her tone measured. “Sparring is not just about physical prowess. It is a test of one’s mind, one’s instincts.”

I nodded, my heart racing faster now. “I’ve been working on a few things,” I said, letting a bit of my excitement bleed into my voice. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a spark of curiosity flashing through her serious demeanor. “Oh?” she said, her voice dipping just slightly. “Then I look forward to seeing what you have prepared, my dear apprentice.”

There it was again — that electric charge between us, the unspoken challenge in her words. I was more than ready to meet it.

As we made our way deeper into Canterlot Castle, the faint echo of our steps filled the long, dimly lit halls. The grandeur of the castle loomed around us, but neither of us seemed to notice. Luna’s pace quickened slightly, her movements purposeful, focused. I could feel her intensity growing with each step, her playful demeanor from earlier all but gone. She was slipping into her role as my mentor, as my sparring partner, and the shift in her energy was palpable.

The castle halls seemed to stretch on forever, winding and turning until they opened into a long corridor that I knew led to the Sparring Grounds. My pulse quickened as we approached the final set of doors, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. This was it. No more banter, no more games. Luna had something planned for tonight, something intense, and I needed to be ready.

The Sparring Grounds lay ahead — an open area tucked within the heart of the castle, designed for training and combat. A running track stretched around the perimeter, and in the center, the earthen training ground waited, marked by scattered practice dummies. A small pavilion sat at the far edge, offering water and a brief respite for those who needed it.

But tonight, there would be no need for rest.

Luna came to a stop at the edge of the grounds, her eyes sweeping over the familiar space before she turned to face me. Without a word, she began removing her regalia, setting aside her crown and peytral with a kind of reverence, as though the act signified the shift from royalty to warrior. Her silver shoes followed, leaving her bare-hoofed, her mane flowing with an ethereal shimmer in the moonlight. She looked different like this — raw, unencumbered by her usual royal bearing.

I mirrored her actions, shrugging off my suit’s jacket and draping it over the edge of the pavilion. Rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt, I appreciated the crisp night air brushing against my skin, cooling me down but doing nothing to settle the rising heat within. My muscles tensed in anticipation, and I flexed my fingers, feeling the latent magic thrumming beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

I had been preparing for this moment, inscribing new spells, testing my limits. Luna had no idea what I had up my sleeve, but soon she would.

We stood there, facing each other, the quiet of the night settling around us like a blanket. For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the nearby trees, the soft hum of magic in the air. Luna’s eyes were locked on mine, her expression unreadable, but her gaze carried a weight I’d come to recognize.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice steady and sharp, “tonight, I want you to fully utilize your magic. Fight as if your life depended on it.”

In all of our sparring sessions, I have always had a hunch that she was holding back. An inkling that each bout was simply Luna going through the motions. But not this time. She wanted me to fight like this was a real fight? I could do that.

“You got it, Luna. No holding back.” I said before casting Mage Armor on myself, the familiar shimmer of magical energy enveloping me like a second skin.

She nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Good. Tonight, I’ll push you farther than ever before.”

There was a ruthlessness there that both thrilled and unsettled me. It made me hesitate for a heartbeat, some primal instinct warning that I was stepping into dangerous territory. The urge to flee tugged at me, but I was already in too deep. The fire inside me burned too hot, craving the challenge ahead.

I locked eyes with her, determination flaring in my chest. With a sharp breath, I pushed aside any lingering doubts and seized a practice sword, not nearly as good as Promise, but it would serve. Now wasn’t the time for hesitation — my focus had to be sharp, unyielding.

As we took our positions, the adrenaline surged, heightening my senses. My mind raced, evaluating strategies, spell combinations, and possibilities. This wasn’t just a spar — it was a test. A test of my skills, my resolve, my ability to rise to whatever challenge Luna threw at me.

Luna’s wings flared out, her stance aggressive and poised for action. “Are you ready, my dear apprentice?” she called out, her voice carrying the unmistakable airs of a challenge.

I flashed a grin, settling into a combat-ready stance. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She smiled, the fire in her eyes burning ever hotter. “Then let us begin.”

The tension in the air was almost suffocating, the anticipation electric. I could feel the magic waiting for me to manifest it, ready to be unleashed.

I expected some prelude — a circling, a few exchanged words, maybe a sizing up. But she gave none. With a swift flicker of her magic, she seized a practice sword and charged, blurring toward me with terrifying speed.

I barely had time to react. My heart lurched as I instinctively cast Shift, teleporting behind her just as her sword slashed through the space I’d occupied a breath before.

She was faster than I’d ever seen her move. I always assumed she was holding back during our prior matches, but this is just ridiculous! And if so, just how much was she restraining even now? The thought sent a wild thrill racing through me.

But there was no time for distraction. I quickly cast Vanish, fading into invisibility, buying myself a precious few seconds. Thirty seconds to reposition, and to cast the spells I’d need to hopefully make this bout a little less one-sided.

Luna didn't grant me much time to buff myself. The moment Vanish took effect, her horn’s aura flared brightly, and with a swift motion, five more practice swords flew from their stands near the entrance of the Sparring Grounds. Now, a total of six swords danced in her magical grip, spinning in wide arcs around the training ground.

I realized quickly that she wasn’t going to handicap herself to just her physical reach anymore. That should’ve concerned me but instead, it only stoked the fire inside me. The thrill of it, the intensity of Luna no longer holding back, had my pulse racing.

The swords whirled about, weaving through the air as she guessed at my position, trying to disrupt whatever spells I had planned. My solution? Lay the fuck down.

It might’ve looked ridiculous, but her swords were all aimed at knee height or above. Lying flat on the ground gave me the advantage of avoiding her attacks while I furiously worked on my spellcasting. If it’s dumb and it works, is it really dumb?

Flat on my back on the sparring grounds’ dirt, I began casting as fast as I could: Shield, Fly, Blur, and finally, Mirror Image. I got through the last incantation just as the invisibility from Vanish faded.

And that’s when things nearly went sideways.

No sooner had I become visible again than four of Luna’s swords were already hurtling toward me. Three of my mirror images vanished in an instant, obliterated by the precise strikes. The fourth sword I barely deflected with my Shield spell, the force barrier parrying away the blow. I scrambled to my feet, cursing my bad luck. I'd hoped for more illusions, but only managed the bare minimum, and Luna had already sliced through them before they could exist for long.

I quickly weighed my options. Due to my attendance of the Gala, and my lack of a Bag of Holding, I was sorely lacking in the scroll department. I had only truly had myself to blame for my lack of wands. I would have to rely only on my prepared spells, and Shift. But that was fine. Luna didn’t know I’d developed a few new tricks since our last serious sparring session.

A sly grin grew on me. Time to bait her.

I began casting another spell, watching Luna closely. As expected, she lunged forward, her swords aimed to interrupt my casting. Perfect.

When she closed the distance to around fifteen feet, I released Obscuring Mist. The air around us thickened with swirling fog, creating an impenetrable shroud between us. I caught a glimpse of Luna skidding to a halt, her eyes sharp and searching for me as the mist swallowed her form.

Without wasting a second, I took flight, silently hovering above the fog, scanning the ground below for her silhouette. Summoning monsters crossed my mind, but I dismissed the idea. Summons were too unpredictable, and I didn’t want to risk them accidentally hurting her.

Instead, I opted for a more classic approach — Fireball. With a twist of metamagic to ensure the flames were nonlethal, of course.

As I began muttering the incantation, doubts clawed at the edges of my mind. What if she could see through the mist somehow? What if she dispelled it with a wave of her wings? And what if the metamagic failed, and I accidentally harmed her?

But I pushed those thoughts aside. I had to trust my own magic.

A pea-sized ball of concentrated heat formed at my fingertip. It looked almost the same as a normal Fireball, but it looked softer… almost warm. I aimed for the center of the mist and released it, immediately starting to prepare a second nonlethal Fireball.

The first one hit the ground with a roar, and the mist evaporated in an instant, the flames clearing away the fog like it had never been there. As the smoke cleared, Luna became visible again. To my surprise, she looked... pleased? A bit of a ruffled mane was all she had to show for the attack, and she appeared almost too happy about my attempt.

Relief washed over me as I realized the metamagic had worked. The thought of the spell failing and causing real harm had nearly stopped me from using damaging magic at all. But I wasn’t finished yet.

I conjured another ball of heat at my fingertips, though I hesitated before launching it. Luna was too skilled, too experienced to allow the same trick to work twice. I needed to stay unpredictable if I had any chance of my spells landing. Unfortunately, Luna wasn’t going to wait for me to figure things out.

She took to the skies, her six practice swords trailing her like a deadly swarm. I had barely enough time to react as she charged at me with terrifying speed.

A devious idea formed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but grin. I dodged the first two swords by the skin of my teeth, using my shield of force to deflect a third, while two more swords slammed into my defenses, knocking my practice sword out of my grasp. Another blade slipped through, forcing me to teleport away using Shift, escaping just in time.

I reappeared inches from Luna, catching her off guard. Her eyes widened in genuine surprise, a rare moment for someone so well-versed in battle. Taking full advantage of her shock, I pointed my finger at her like a gun, whispered the final syllables of my spell, and unleashed the Fireball at point-blank range.

Note to self: nonlethal does not mean painless.

The explosion engulfed both of us in a swirling, searing heat. Even through the metamagic that dulled the lethality of the blast, the impact was hard enough to leave us both singed and winded. My clothes smoldered at the edges, and Luna's flowing ethereal mane seemed a little less ethereal for a brief moment, tangling with the faint smell of burnt ozone that lingered in the air.

Still, neither of us was out of the fight.

Without a weapon, and still floating high above the sparring grounds, I decided my next move. I began casting Dimensional Anchor, hoping to pin Luna down and enable an advantageous moment for Dimension Door. But Luna wasn’t about to give me that luxury.

She closed the distance faster than I could finish, her six practice swords cutting through the air with eerie precision. I dodged and parried what I could, my force shield absorbing the brunt of the assault, but two of her blades found their marks — one grazing my left forearm, the other slicing dangerously close to my casting hand. The sudden pain shattered my concentration, and the spell I was weaving fizzled, its green ray harmlessly dissipating into the night sky. Wasted.

I barely had time to curse before she pressed the attack, and the next few moments blurred into a chaotic dance of parries, dodges, and desperate teleportations. Scorching Rays flew from my fingertips, each one nonlethal but powerful enough to scorch the air between us. But Luna's aerial combat skills were nothing short of terrifying. Her movements were so fluid, so precise, while I felt more like a panicked bird flailing to stay aloft.

I was running out of options. Fast.

After narrowly avoiding a particularly vicious series of strikes that forced me to burn through four uses of Shift and taking a hoof to the face, Luna paused her aggression to begin casting a spell of her own. Her eyes glowed with an ominous white light, and I knew I had to act fast or I would be thoroughly fucked.

With my last third-level spell, I cast Dispel Magic as a counterspell, chopping my hand through the air with all the focus I could muster. Lady Luck herself must've favored me in that moment, because by some miracle, it was enough. Luna’s spell unraveled before it could take form, the magic crackling and fizzling out in a harmless shower of sparks.

The look of surprise on her face was priceless, and I couldn’t resist burning my second-to-last Shift to close the gap and land a nonlethal casting of Burning Hands. My triumph was short-lived, as Luna retaliated with six swift swings of her swords, forcing me to use my final Shift to dodge. But in the chaos of mid-air combat, I miscalculated, teleporting too close to the ground and unintentionally placing myself below Luna.

Lady Luck, it seemed, had decided to abandon me.

Luna wasted no time. She dive-bombed me with blinding speed, wings spread wide and eyes gleaming with feral intent. I tried to dodge, but she was already on me, her weight crashing into me and pinning me to the cold ground beneath her. Her hooves pressed my arms down, and I realized with growing dread that I was entirely at her mercy.

Her normally round pupils had contracted into sharp slits, her fangs bared in a ferocious grin. Yet the wild look in her eyes didn’t frighten me; if anything, it only fueled the adrenaline still racing through my veins.

Without hesitation, I began casting Create Pit beneath us, forcing a grin as I gestured with my free hand. Luna, seeing my intent, tried to pin me down further, but she was just a fraction of a second too late. The ground beneath us gave way, and we fell together into the sudden void.

Luna let out a startled yelp — a sound that might have been amusing under different circumstances — as I quickly grabbed hold of her wings, forcing them closed. We tumbled together, grappling in the darkness of the extradimensional pit, our once-refined sparring devolving into something more primal. Fists and hooves clashed, neither of us able to fully subdue the other. For a few brief moments, I felt like I was holding my own. But Luna’s strength and sheer tenacity soon overwhelmed me, each blow driving the breath from my lungs.

By the time the pit expired and we were deposited unceremoniously back on the surface, I was spent. My body ached, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. But somehow, I forced myself back to my feet, determined not to give in just yet. Stubbornness, pride, or perhaps sheer insanity kept me going.

Luna, still looming over me, looked equally winded, her mane disheveled, small cuts and bruises marking her otherwise pristine form. Yet, the wild gleam in her eyes had not faded — if anything, it had grown more intense.

She was enjoying this.

"I can do this all day," I muttered, more for my own benefit than hers. As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake.

Luna’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a dangerous smile. Before I could react, she charged at me again, this time with no hesitation. I braced myself, ready to counter her attack, but instead of colliding with me, her horn flared, sending a telekinetic force that shifted my feet.

In an instant, I found myself once again pinned, her hooves pressing me firmly to the ground. My hands were immobilized, my magic all but spent. There was no getting out of this one.

The stubborn will to keep fighting drained out of me as the reality of my situation sank in. Luna’s gaze was unwavering, her eyes boring into mine, steady and unblinking as her breath slowly evened out. She didn’t need to speak; the predatory gleam in her eyes told me everything.

“Okay,” I wheezed, gasping for air, my body aching with each breath. “You got me... got me good.”

“You fought well,” she said at last, her voice low, almost a purr. Her eyes drifted over my face, down to my chest, lingering, before snapping back to meet my gaze.

I should have been afraid. The fangs, those slit pupils, the raw power she had wielded so effortlessly — it should have been terrifying. Yet, as I lay there, chest heaving, all I could think of was how beautiful she looked. Flushed from exertion, her mane wild and disheveled, specks of blood and grime only accentuating the primal allure that radiated from her.

She can take a bite out of me anytime she likes!

My heart pounded, sending waves of adrenaline surging through me once more, but this time it wasn't from fear. Every sense was heightened, every brush of her coat against mine a spark, every sound a pulse in the silence between us. Luna leaned closer, her breath hot against my ear, teasing the sensitive skin there, and I shivered despite myself.

"My dear apprentice..." Her voice was silky, laced with a dangerous edge, her words a playful taunt. Her breath sent a ripple of sensation down my spine. “You can teleport again, can’t you? Or are you giving up?”

Dimension Door was an option, sure. I could cast it.

But did I want to?

I smirked, stubbornness flaring again as I met her gaze, defiance burning in my eyes. “Nah, not giving up. I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Luna’s grin widened, eyes gleaming with a heady mix of excitement and something darker — primal, ancient. The wildness in her gaze spoke to something deep, something unrestrained and powerful. Her sharp fangs peeked out as she chuckled, the low sound rumbling through the air like a predator's growl, sending another shiver of anticipation through me.

Her body pressed harder against mine, the warmth of her form sinking into me, like she was trying to melt away the last remnants of my resolve. The softness of her coat brushed against my skin, at odds with the coiled strength that thrummed beneath it. That duality made her terrifyingly irresistible, her strength intoxicating. Her heat was overwhelming, intoxicating, and her scent — sweat, earth, and something sweet, maybe jasmine or lavender, something that felt like her, like the moonlight and the deep, dark forest. It twisted through my senses, clouding my thoughts with a cocktail of desire and wariness.

Her mane, an ethereal cascade of stars and shadows, draped over us like a midnight veil, shimmering as if it held the very essence of the night sky. It moved gently, as though stirred by an unseen breeze, the tiny points of light within it twinkling like distant galaxies in the infinite expanse of space.

Luna’s wings flared out, broad and imposing, creating a shadowed canopy that seemed to seal us in our own world. The sheer presence of them made my pulse quicken, their strength palpable, their power undeniable. Every muscle in her body was taut, humming with tension, and I could feel it in the very air between us, as though her raw energy was mirrored by the thrum in my own veins.

Her breath, hot and heavy, ghosted over my neck as she leaned in, her fangs grazed my skin in a teasing, almost possessive bite, and a jolt of electricity shot through me, making my breath hitch. Heat coiled low in my belly, primal and undeniable, as my body reacted to her proximity, her dominance.

“Is that so?” Her voice dripped with sultry menace, a dark promise that made my pulse race even faster. Each word was velvet and razor blades, wrapping around me like a snare. “Then show me.”

With a quick, fluid motion, Luna shifted her weight, her hind legs lifting just enough to free my member from the confines of my pants. The sudden exposure to the cool night air was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her, making the moment all the more intense. When she settled back down, pinning me beneath her, I could feel my tip kissing her entrance. The pressure of her body was intoxicating, a delicious mix of dominance and desire that had me craving for more.

I couldn’t help but stare at her, captivated by the transformation in her eyes. Her pupils had narrowed into sharp, catlike slits, gleaming with an almost otherworldly light. The shift was striking, turning her from the graceful alicorn I knew into something far more primal, far more dangerous — and yet, undeniably alluring.

My body tensed beneath her in anticipation. The ache of the fight, the bruises, the fatigue — all of it faded into insignificance as the only thing that mattered now was the mare above me. Her wings stretched wide, their tips brushing the ground as she leaned down, her mane cascading around us like a curtain of night itself, isolating us from everything but each other.

Her lips brushed against mine, soft and teasing, before she pulled back just enough for me to see the light of hunger burning in her eyes. Then she kissed me, fiercely, with a passion that stole the breath from my lungs. Her fangs grazed my lower lip as her tongue tangled with mine, the taste of her both sweet and wild, like biting into forbidden fruit.

My hands instinctively moved to her sides, sliding down to the curve of her waist, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath her coat as I pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She responded with a low growl, a sound that rumbled through her chest and into mine, vibrating against me in a way that made my pulse race even faster.

A wicked grin cut across her face as she leaned back, her voice a sultry growl. “You’ve fought well,” she murmured, her words a velvet caress that sent a shiver skittering down my spine. “Now, let’s see if you can handle the reward.”

Without warning, she sank down, and I gasped as the overwhelming heat of her folds enveloped me, pulling me into a world where nothing existed but her. The sensation was all-consuming, a torrent of pleasure so intense that I gripped her hips in a vain attempt to keep the world from spinning. She was impossibly tight, gripping me with an exquisite tension that teetered between ecstasy and overwhelming bliss. The searing heat of her was a brand, marking me, binding me to her in a primal, undeniable way as she took me in fully, leaving no space, no separation between us.

Luna’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft, breathy moan slipping from her lips as she began to move. Her hips rolled with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion sending waves of pleasure through me, making my heart thunder against my chest. The way she moved was hypnotic, her body a perfect blend of strength and grace as she rode me with an intensity that bordered on the wild.

A gasp tore from my throat as the sensation overwhelmed me, igniting a fire within that burned away any remnants of hesitation. I was utterly lost in her, in this moment — every nerve ablaze with the raw energy of our connection.

Her wings twitched, feathers rustling softly as she let out another quiet moan, her head tilting back, her body bathed in the moonlight. She was magnificent — powerful, radiant, and utterly captivating. I was at her mercy, completely undone by her, and yet in this moment, I felt more alive now than I ever had before.

The world around us faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of us locked in this primal dance of ours. The only sounds were the soft rustling of her feathers, the rhythmic crash of our bodies, and our breaths — hot, heavy, shared.

Luna’s gaze never faltered, piercing mine with an intensity that left no question about who was in control. She was relentless, pushing me to my limits, testing my endurance with a ferocity that was both exhilarating and exhausting. Every time I teetered on the edge of losing control, she would ease her movements, offering just enough respite to catch my breath before driving me back into the storm once again.

My body responded to her demands, fueled by a primal need to match her, to prove myself worthy of the challenge she set before me. The aches from earlier battles were long forgotten, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of our shared passion — our fire burning brighter with every movement, with every desperate motion.

With every roll of her hips, our connection deepened, transcending the physical. It was as though we were no longer separate, but a single entity, bound by something ancient and incomprehensible.

A soft moan escaped her again, a sound that was both a challenge and a reward. She leaned forward, her ethereal mane spilling over us like a cascade of stars, her lips so close to mine that I could feel her breath. “You are mine,” she growled, her voice rough with desire, the words sinking deep into me like an undeniable truth, a commandment etched into my very soul.

I was trembling beneath her, barely holding on, every movement sending electric shocks of pleasure through me. Each shift of her hips, each slow, deliberate grind threatened to unravel me entirely. The world faded away — there was only her, the weight of her body pressing down on me, the heat of her consuming me, her presence overwhelming every sense until I could think of nothing but her.

She picked up the pace, her thrusts becoming sharper, more insistent, and I found myself meeting her, matching her rhythm despite the unbearable intensity of it all. My fingers dug into her, pulling her closer, trying to fuse us together, desperate to lose myself in her entirely.

The pleasure built between us, a crescendo of sensation, and I could feel her growing closer too, her breath quickening, her moans growing louder and more ragged. Just as I teetered on the brink of release, her head dipped, her teeth grazing my neck with a mix of pain and pleasure so sharp that I couldn’t hold back the groan that tore from my throat.

But she wasn’t done with me.

“Not yet,” she whispered in my ear, her breath hot against my skin. Her hips slowed, grinding against me, drawing out the pleasure without giving me release. The tension was unbearable, every fiber of my being straining, begging for the sweet release just out of reach.

My hands trembled against her hips, nails pressing into her fur, but Luna held all the power. Her smirk was a wicked gleam in the moonlight, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched me writhe beneath her, desperate and undone.

“You’ll finish when I allow it, my dear apprentice,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. She had me completely, her dominance absolute.

She began moving again, slower this time, but with an intensity that made my pulse race. Every roll of her hips, every deliberate thrust sent another wave of pleasure crashing through me, bringing me closer to the edge without allowing me to fall over. Her body was a living furnace, her heat wrapping around me, her folds gripping me with the perfect combination of tightness and slickness that made every movement feel like an exquisite torment.

I could feel her growing closer too, her breath quickening, the moans escaping her lips growing louder, more ragged. Her pace picked up once again, her body moving with renewed urgency, the restraint slipping away as she sought her own release. The tension between us reached a fever pitch, the world narrowing to this single moment, the bond between us, the fire burning brighter and hotter than ever.

With one final, powerful thrust, Luna threw her head back, crying out as her wings flared wide. Her climax washed over her in waves, her folds tightening around me, pulling me into the storm of her release. The sound of her pleasure echoed through the night, a primal cry that sent shivers down my spine. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming. Her body tightened around me, her muscles clenching in a powerful, rhythmic spasm that sent me hurtling over the edge with her. The world exploded into white-hot pleasure as I found my release, my entire body shuddering beneath her, my grip on her hips tightening as the waves of ecstasy washed over me again and again.

For a few precious moments, we remained entwined, our breaths mingling in the cool night air, our bodies pressed together as if we could never be close enough. Luna’s mane flowed gently around us, the stars within it dimming as the intensity of the moment faded into a heady afterglow.

Her breath ghosted against my skin, her body still trembling slightly from the intensity of our coupling. I could feel her heart pounding against mine, the rapid rhythm slowly calming in time with my own.

After some time, she moved, shifting to lay beside me, her body still pressed close to mine. Her eyes, now returned to their normal state, held a satisfied gleam as she looked at me. A soft, contented smile played on her lips, her fangs now hidden away as she nuzzled against me, her breath hot against my skin.

The silence of the night enveloped us like a comforting blanket, the air filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of an owl. My heart was still pounding, but in a different way now — less from the exertion of our sparring and lovemaking, and more from the realization of what had just transpired between us. The sparring match had been brutal, each of us pushing the other to the limits, and though I’d given it my all, Luna had emerged victorious.

But I found no bitterness in my defeat — only a deep sense of satisfaction and a connection that went far beyond what I could have ever expected.

Luna’s mane, still shimmering faintly with the light of a thousand distant stars, draped over us as she nestled against me, her breathing calm and even. I shifted slightly, the soreness in my body a reminder of our sparring earlier, but none of that mattered now. All I could focus on was her — the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the rise and fall of her chest, and the way she seemed so peaceful in this quiet moment.

"That was... intense," I murmured, my voice still hoarse from everything we’d just been through. The words felt like an understatement, but I wasn’t sure how else to describe the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that had just overwhelmed me.

Luna chuckled softly, her eyes half-lidded, the corners of her mouth curling into a teasing smirk. “Intense? Is that how you describe the night you were bested, my dear apprentice?” Her voice was a mix of playfulness and affection, a far cry from the sultry, commanding tone she’d used earlier. Now, in the quiet aftermath, there was a softness to her that was reserved for these moments, for me.

I couldn't help but smile at the word 'apprentice,' even though it no longer held the same significance as it once did. Our relationship had evolved into something much deeper and more meaningful.

“Well, you definitely won,” I admitted, my fingers tracing lazy patterns along the curve of her side. “But I don’t think either of us really lost tonight.”

Her eyes softened even more at that, and she shifted closer, resting her head on my chest. I could feel her heartbeat against my skin, steady and strong, and the rhythm of it was oddly comforting. Her mane tickled my neck as she nestled into me, and I brought my arm around her, holding her close.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. Words felt unnecessary. Above us, the night sky stretched endlessly, with stars twinkling like distant memories. Yet, they didn’t seem so far away anymore. I thought of the countless nights Luna and I had spent tracing those constellations, her guiding me through the heavens, and how those quiet moments laid the foundation for something I hadn’t fully grasped at the time — something that had now blossomed into this.

The silence between us was serene, broken only by the gentle rise and fall of our breathing and the soft rustle of leaves as the wind threaded through the trees. Luna’s weight against my chest was grounding, keeping me tethered to a moment that felt almost dreamlike. Her mane, cool and soft as the night breeze, shimmered faintly where it draped over us, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I’d never experienced anything like this before. It wasn’t just the physical closeness — it was something deeper, more intimate. The sensation of truly being seen by someone else. Luna’s heartbeat, steady and calming, resonated against me, and for once, everything felt right, truly right.

I let my fingers trace slow, lazy circles on her back, feeling the subtle twitch of her muscles beneath her fur. Her fangs, once sharp and predatory, had disappeared, and her expression was no longer fierce but softened, almost vulnerable. There was a warmth in her eyes now, one I had never seen before — a warmth that reflected the same unfamiliar emotions swirling inside me.

"You know," I finally whispered, breaking the silence, "I think I might’ve underestimated you."

Luna’s ear flicked, and a playful smile tugged at her lips as she glanced up at me, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Underestimated?" she echoed, her voice rich with teasing. "I believe you were claiming victory not too long ago."

I laughed softly, the sound mingling with the cool night air. "Okay, maybe I was a little too confident," I admitted. "But you have to admit, I put up a pretty good fight."

Her chuckle was low and melodic, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "A valiant effort, indeed. But…" She shifted, pressing herself closer as she lifted her head, her gaze meeting mine with renewed intensity. “Challenging the Princess of the Night comes with its consequences.”

The playful tone in her voice stirred something in me, but there was an unspoken depth beneath it. Her eyes lingered on mine, and in that brief moment, our banter faded, leaving only an honesty that neither of us could ignore.

“I’ve never shared this with anyone before,” she confessed softly. The tenderness in her words made my heart ache in the best possible way, like she was offering a part of herself she had kept hidden for so long.

I reached up, brushing a strand of her mane away from her face, letting my thumb trail along her jawline. “Neither have I,” I admitted just as quietly. “You’re the first.”

Her gaze searched mine, and in that instant, it was like we both understood. This wasn’t just about what had happened physically between us — this was something deeper, something we were both still trying to navigate.

A softer smile spread across Luna’s lips, and she rested her forehead against mine, her mane cascading around us like a curtain of stars. “It seems we’re both new to this,” she murmured, her breath warm against my skin.

“Yeah,” I whispered, closing my eyes, savoring the closeness. “But I think we’re figuring it out.”

We lay there, wrapped in each other, the world outside slipping into a quiet stillness. The stars above no longer felt distant; they felt like part of us, part of whatever this new, growing connection was.

Eventually, Luna broke the silence with a mischievous smile. “Does this mean you’ll be more inclined to obey my commands in the future?”

I snorted softly, shaking my head. “Obey? I don’t think that word exists in my vocabulary.”

Her eyebrow arched, her expression playfully skeptical. “After all this, you still believe you can resist?”

“I didn’t say resist,” I replied with a cocky grin. “Just that I don’t obey blindly.”

Luna hummed, her eyes narrowing in mock contemplation. “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep you in line.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” I teased, the warmth of her body sending a thrill through me. “But I’ll make it interesting.”

She responded with a kiss, not fierce or possessive like before, but gentle, tender. It was brief, yet it sent my heart racing, a reminder of the bond we’d forged tonight.

When she pulled back, her expression softened, contemplative. “Sebastian,” she began, her voice quiet but sure. “I’ve never had someone like you before. Someone who sees me as more than just a princess.”

I held her gaze, feeling the weight of her words. “I don’t see you that way,” I said firmly. “To me, you’re Luna. My Luna.”

A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks, and she lowered her head, resting her chin on my chest. “And you are mine,” she whispered, her voice carrying a certainty that made warmth bloom inside me.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. We didn’t need to. The bond between us, still fragile, felt stronger than words could ever convey.

She shifted again, settling comfortably against me. “Tell me, Sebastian,” she said, her teasing tone returning, “do you think you could survive another round?”

I smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Another round? You’re assuming I survived the first.”

Luna’s laughter was rich, melodic, and filled the night air around us. “A fair point. Perhaps I was a bit too… thorough in my victory.”

Her laughter rang out into the night, blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound. A familiar warmth bloomed inside me as I pulled her closer. The weight of her body resting against mine felt like a reminder of how far we’d come. From our first encounter — when she stood as Nightmare Moon, a figure of eternal night and fury — now to this moment, wrapped in each other beneath the stars. It felt almost unreal.

We lay there in silence, the stillness around us allowing our quiet breaths to fill the space. But my mind kept drifting back, replaying that first meeting. Nightmare Moon’s presence had dominated the room, like a storm on the verge of breaking. She had been magnificent and terrifying, and I’d been a fool to believe I could survive. The lie that spilled from my lips back then — that I wanted to be her apprentice — driven by sheer desperation.

And yet, she hadn’t killed me.

I hadn’t dwelled on it much as our relationship evolved beyond anything I could have predicted. But lying here now, with Luna so close, I felt the need to ask something that had been gnawing at me since that fateful encounter.

“Luna,” I began, my voice barely audible.

She hummed softly in response, her cheek resting comfortably on my chest. “Yes, my love?”

I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “I’ve been thinking about the day we met. You were still Nightmare Moon then... Did you know I was lying?”

Her body tensed slightly, her head lifting from my chest as she looked at me, her expression unreadable. Then, a small, knowing smile crept across her lips. “You mean when you proudly declared yourself as my 'humble apprentice’?” she asked, amusement lacing her words.

I rubbed the back of my neck with a sheepish laugh. “Yeah... that.”

Her smile grew as she shifted, propping herself up to gaze at me more directly. There was a playful light in her eyes, but something sharper, too. “Oh, Sebastian,” she chuckled, “did you really believe you had fooled me?”

I blinked, suddenly feeling much less certain. “Well… yeah? I thought I did.”

Her laughter softened into something almost affectionate, though there remained a teasing glint. “Let me share a secret, my dear apprentice,” she whispered, leaning in close enough that her breath warmed my ear. “I saw through your lie the second you spoke it.”

I stared at her, taken aback by how easily she admitted it. "Wait… you knew? You didn’t believe me at all?"

Luna sat back and nodded, her expression softening though a darker glimmer still danced beneath her gaze. “Your fear was palpable. Your voice wavered. I could practically smell the desperation on you.” Her smile turned predatory for a brief moment, a reminder of the dangerous being she once was. “I thought you might serve as an amusing example.”

“Example?” My throat tightened, dread creeping in. I had an idea of what she meant.

Her gaze shifted to the stars above, her voice becoming thoughtful. “I considered toying with you. Making you beg, breaking you down.” She paused, her tone dropping to a whisper. “And then, when you were no longer amusing, I would have killed you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding at the image her words conjured. But there was no malice in her voice now, only the distant recollection of a plan that never came to pass.

“And yet… you didn’t,” I murmured. “Why?”

Luna’s eyes returned to mine, and there was a gentleness in them that made my chest tighten. “You intrigued me,” she admitted softly. “Even in your fear, there was something defiant in you. Something… bold. I hadn’t seen that in a long time.”

She traced light patterns across my chest with her hoof, her touch soothing. “I decided to let you live, at least for a while. I thought you might become useful. Or, if not, perhaps you would serve as a cautionary tale.”

I let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and unease washing over me. “And now?”

Luna’s smile turned tender, and she leaned down, brushing a soft kiss across my forehead. “Now,” she whispered, her voice laden with emotion, “you are more than I ever imagined. My equal. My partner... my love.”

The depth of her words left me speechless, my heart swelling as I reached up, cupping her cheek gently. “I guess I’m lucky you didn’t go through with that original plan.”

Her laughter, warm and familiar now, filled the space between us. “Very lucky,” she teased, her eyes twinkling. “Though I do wonder... how much of that 'humble apprentice' act was just you being... yourself?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Hey, I was trying to stay alive, okay?”

“And you did,” she pointed out, her grin widening. “But I must say, you’ve become much more interesting since.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Interesting, huh? How so?”

Her smile turned mischievous as she leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. “In every way,” she whispered, sending a shiver through me.

Our eyes met, the playful banter giving way to something deeper. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I whispered back.

Then she kissed me, slow and deliberate, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The stars, the night, even the memory of that terrifying first meeting dissolved into the warmth between us, into the bond we’d forged out of something neither of us could have predicted.

Forgettable

My room was filled with the soft scratching of quill on paper, a rhythmic sound that never failed to keep me focused as I carefully etched the intricate details of my next spell, the Sepia Snake Sigil. I had cast a Light cantrip upon the wall above my workstation, and it cast a soft glow over my spellbook. My desk was cluttered with ink bottles, spare quills, and scraps of notes detailing various incantations and arcane symbols.

All commonplace signs of my process for the creation of spells.

Outside, the colors of autumn painted the landscape in wonderful hues of red, gold, and brown, though most of the fall scenery itself was unfortunately hidden behind the walls of the castle or muted due to distance. My room was warm still, but the autumn chill had begun to creep in through the cracked balcony door as the night marched on. Leaving a door or window cracked during the colder seasons was a habit brought with me from Earth, and while it did bring down the temperature of my room, the cold served as a constant reminder that the season had reached its peak and the greater world still marched on. The air that snuck through the cracked door carried the faint smell of leaves, damp earth, and that distinct crispness that always came with fall. It was the kind of refreshing cold that reminded you the world was shifting, preparing for the coming winter.

The warmth inside was more than enough for me, especially with Luna nearby.

I paused for a moment, lifting the quill from paper as my fingers flexed stiffly, muscles tight from hours of writing. Leaning back in the chair, I cast a glance toward my bed. Luna lay sprawled across it, her flowing mane cascading like a river of midnight stars against the gray sheets and pillows. Her relaxed posture made her look every bit the ethereal goddess I saw her to be. But it wasn’t me she was talking to.

No, instead her attention was on Aldin, who perched at the edge of the bed, his feathers puffed up as he hooted away in that unique blend of clicks and whistles that only I could fully comprehend. Luna, however, seemed entertained, her hoof tucked under her chin as she listened intently, amusement flickering across her features despite not understanding a single word that Aldin spoke.

“I must admit, it’s fascinating how talkative you’ve become lately,” Luna said with a teasing smile, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You’ve been rather secretive up until now.”

Aldin shot me a sideways glance, his feathers ruffling with smug satisfaction before letting out a long, exaggerated hoot. To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like a typical owl’s call. But to me, unfortunately, it was crystal clear.

“Secretive? Hah! More like biding my time,” Aldin replied, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Besides, I don’t think Luna would appreciate everything I have to say. Especially about you two.”

My grip tightened on the quill as I shot him a warning glance over the rim of my teashades. His feathers puffed up slightly as if to feign innocence, but the smug amusement rolling through our empathic link told me exactly where this was going.

Luna’s ears twitched, and she glanced over at me, one eyebrow raised in question. “What did he say?”

“Oh, you know, owl stuff,” I said with a casual wave, dipping the quill back into the inkwell. “Nothing too important.”

“Owl stuff?” she repeated, her brow arching higher in amused skepticism.

I gave a nonchalant shrug, turning my attention back to the nearly completed spell. “Yeah, he's just trying to stir the pot.”

“Hmm,” Luna mused, her expression thoughtful but still playful. “He does seem to enjoy doing that.”

Aldin let out a sharp hoot of mock offense. “Enjoy? Princess, I don’t just enjoy it — I thrive on it. Especially when my favorite subject comes up.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “And what would that be?”

“Oh, nothing too important,” Aldin said, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You two just had to beat each other half to death before getting it on. Subtle, really, by the way. And don’t even get me started on the sex itself. I’m pretty sure if it had been daytime, at least half the castle would have heard you going at it like a pair of lovesick rabbits. And that is no exaggeration.”

The quill in my hand nearly snapped. My shoulders tensed, and I froze mid-stroke, feeling a rush of embarrassment surge through me. Aldin’s smug satisfaction practically flooded our link. Of course, he felt everything I felt. During that night… he’d certainly had a front-row seat to feel all of it thanks to our connection. We had been anything but subtle during that night; the heat of passion had gotten the better of us.

Fuck me.

“Sebastian?” Luna’s voice was filled with that calm, teasing edge she always used when she knew I was hiding something.

Clearing my throat, keeping my tone as steady as I possibly could. “Nothing. Aldin’s just… being Aldin.”

I shot him a murderous look, but he only puffed up his feathers more, his clicks now resembling what could only be described as owlish laughter. “Oh, come on, Seb. It’s not like she didn’t feel the same thing, after all. You were practically burning through the link. I’m surprised you two didn’t set the whole damn castle on fire.”

My face burned hotter, and I finally set the quill down to massage the bridge of my nose. “Best-buddy, do me a favor and shut up.”

But Aldin didn’t shut up, instead he kept going. “Shut up? Oh, come now, I’m just saying… maybe tone it down next time. You two made it really hard for me to nap with all that intensity, and frankly, it was exhausting.”

Luna tilted her head, her gaze bouncing between Aldin and I. She couldn’t understand the words, but she was reading my body language well enough. “Sebastian, what exactly is he saying?”

I exhaled sharply, sending Aldin another glare. “He’s reminding me that the link of ours is a little more detailed than I’d prefer it to be.”

For a moment, her expression resembled shock, but it quickly shifted into a sly smirk. "Oh, I understand now," Luna said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "It's not very polite to pry into such personal moments, Aldin."

Aldin fluffed his feathers, completely unbothered. “Pry? Princess, I don’t pry. I merely notice. Especially when things get… heated.”

I groaned, running a hand through my hair as Luna’s teasing gaze landed back on me, she was clearly enjoying every second of this exchange. “I swear, Aldin, if you don’t drop this…”

Aldin, true to form, was relentless. “You can’t blame me, Seb. I mean, it's not my fault I felt everything. It’s not exactly easy to un-feel something like that.”

His amusement was evident through our link, and it took every ounce of willpower not to snap and strangle him. Luna chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. Clearly, she was enjoying my reactions far too much, and my embarrassment found a way to increase.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice a velvety tease. “It’s understandable if you’re feeling a little… exposed.”

I groaned inwardly. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

"It seems," she remarked with a smirk, her tone tinged with mirth, "you’ve met your match."

I sighed, leaning back in my chair and running a hand through my hair. “He’s like an annoying little brother. One that you can’t get rid of.”

Aldin's hooting laughter echoed through the room. “Aww, c'mon now, Seb. Admit it, you love me!”

I shot him a glare, though I couldn’t hide the grin tugging at my lips. “Some days more than others.”

He snickered in a way that only he could, satisfied with getting under my skin, but mercifully shifted his attention towards taking a nap.

Finally, I could focus.

Working fast, I finished the last of the lines of the Sepia Snake Sigil dried on the page of my spellbook, and I closed it with a sense of triumph. The spell had been eluding me for a while, but now it was finally part of my arsenal. Suspended animation wasn’t something I’d need often, but when I did, it would be a lifesaver.

I would just have to keep in mind that the spell doesn't keep those under its effect safe from harm.

Satisfied, I murmured the incantation for Secluded Grimoire, watching as my spellbook shimmered, then vanished into the Ethereal Plane. A neat little trick I’d grown increasingly fond of — it was like having a pocket dimension for all my arcane notes. Safe, untouchable, and it looks cool as hell to summon a spellbook this way.

The room settled into a comforting quiet, save for the occasional rustle of sheets or the soft snores from Aldin, now curled up and asleep in his usual spot on the bookshelf. Luna’s presence was felt more than seen, her gaze never wavering, though there was a hint of quietness in her now. She had been watching me work the entire time since Aldin took to sleep, her eyes thoughtful, as if weighing something unspoken between us. It was a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable — more like the calm before a conversation yet to happen. I could feel it building, the subtle pull between us, waiting for the right moment to surface.

“It’s growing colder,” Luna mused softly, almost contemplative. “Autumn is ending, and winter is not far behind.” She paused, a playful lilt creeping in as she added, "A princess could use some warmth during these chilly days. My chambers have a tendency to get... drafty."

I raised an eyebrow, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Is that so? Your chambers are drafty now?”

Luna nodded with exaggerated seriousness, though the corner of her lips twitched into a coy smile. "Indeed. It seems I’m in need of... additional warmth."

I couldn't help but smile at her choice of words. It would be near impossible for me to mistake the playful dance in her tone, and I couldn't resist joining in on the game.

“Oh?” I stepped toward my bed, crossing my arms. “And what exactly are you suggesting? I’m sure I can whip up a spell or two to solve this problem.”

With a sigh of mock exasperation, Luna sat up, her mane flowing like liquid starlight around her. “I’m merely inviting you to my bedchambers, Sebastian. Unless, of course, you’re so averse to the idea of keeping your princess warm."

The humor in her words couldn’t hope to mask the obvious invitation, and my pulse quickened at the thought. Luna’s bedchambers — her private space. I hadn’t set foot in there before, despite the growing intimacy between us. The thought of entering that space, not as her apprentice, but as something much more personal, sent a thrill through me.

How could I ever say no?

“Well,” I said, trying to keep my tone light despite the thunder in my chest, "when you put it that way, how could I ever possibly refuse?"

Pleased, Luna’s smile deepened as she slid gracefully out of my bed. The soft glow from the Light spell weaved shadows around her, making her seem even more otherworldly, akin to something straight out of myth.

“Come,” she said softly, her voice dropping to a lower, more intimate timbre as she gestured for me to follow. “I imagine you’ll be quite useful at keeping the cold at bay.”

There was something in the way she looked at me, with affection that was growing more common in our more quiet moments together. I found myself wondering how many others had ever seen this side of her.

The answer, I knew, was none.

With a subtle nod, I stepped toward her, feeling the weight of the moment settling over us. The air between us hummed with a quiet intensity as we left the room together, the stillness of the night enveloping us like a shared secret. With one last glance back into my room, I checked on Aldin, curled up and peacefully asleep, the sight of him sound asleep brought me a small smile.

Luna and I walked in silence through the quiet halls of the castle, her soft hoofsteps barely echoing off the stone floor. Shadows flickered from the lanterns lining the walls, their light dancing across her flowing mane like constellations shifting in the currents of the cosmos. The world beyond the castle faded into irrelevance, leaving just the two of us in this quiet, private reality. The silence wasn't empty but filled with something far more valuable, a connection that needed no words.

Luna led the way, graceful even in the simple act of walking. The light from the lanterns refusing to fully touched her, as if the night itself bent around her and barred the light from intruding too close. I had grown accustomed to her ethereal presence, but there was something about moments like this one that made it all feel more real, more personal.

I wouldn't trade these moments for anything.

Soon enough, we ascended one of the two tallest spires of the castle — a place I had never stepped foot in before, a part of her world I had yet been invited to enter. The door to her chambers was simple but elegant, a white crescent moon carved into its dark wood. With a soft glow of her magic, the door opened, and we stepped inside.

The room was vast, but it felt strangely intimate, as if the very air here was shaped by her presence. A grand fireplace crackled with a low, comforting fire, its light throwing off a warm, flickering glow over the room. Tall windows revealed the vast expanse of the night sky and the greater portions of Canterlot below. A large canopy bed stood at the center, draped in deep blue curtains that shimmered faintly in the firelight, their color mirroring the twilight outside.

This was her sanctuary, the place where she had spent many days since her return, alone with the weight of the heavens on her shoulders. And now, she had invited me into this space, a gesture that felt as significant to me as her manipulations of the moon and stars themselves. I felt a knot of tension ease in my chest, a quiet sense of belonging taking its place.

Luna moved to one of the windows, her gaze tracing the eastern horizon where the faintest hint of dawn was beginning to brush the edges of the sky. With a soft breath, she called upon her magic, and the moon began its slow, graceful descent towards the western horizon. Watching her command the heavens, a task so monumental yet performed with such ease, always struck me with awe. A task she always makes seem so effortless, yet it carried the weight of her role as the Princess of the Night.

As the moon sank below the horizon, leaving the sky to the approaching dawn, she turned to me with a gentle smile adorning her lips. “The night has ended,” she said, her voice soft, nearly a whisper. “And with it, we must find our rest.”

Her words, so simple, were borne from the hours we shared together — the quiet moments, the intimacy, the tenderness shared. A quiet joy that was still so very new, but felt so very right blossomed within me. She stood at the center of the room, already undoing the pieces of her royal regalia.

One by one, her crown, peytral, and silver shoes found their place on a small table beside her bed. With each item shed, it was as though a layer of formality fell away from her, leaving behind the mare I loved — not the warrior princess or the guardian of the night, but just Luna. My Luna.

She caught me watching, a playful gleam flickering in those eyes of hers. “Are you just going to stand there?” she teased, her voice light, carrying the familiar cadence that would never fail to tug at my heartstrings. "Or do you plan to join me?"

With a soft laugh, I tugged my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. The cool air nipped at my skin, especially where the fresh scars on my left shoulder still tingled faintly. For a moment, my fingers lingered over them, tracing the rough texture. They were new, and they still surprised me when they caught my eye. Fully healed, yes — but they were still a part of me, just as much as hers are a part of her.

Luna's eyes flickered briefly to my shoulder, but there was no concern in her gaze — only understanding. Her own scars, hidden beneath her fur, were as much a part of her as the moon and stars she commanded. In silence, we shared this unspoken bond, a connection that ran deeper than words, deeper than wounds.

I discarded the rest of my gear onto a nearby chair and turned toward her. Her gaze traced the lines of my body with the same quiet affection that always managed to put me at ease. There was nothing to hide between us anymore.

No roles, no masks. Just us. Luna and I.

Without a word, she slipped into her bed, her magic lifting the edge of the blankets in invitation. I slid in beside her, the cool fabric of the sheets quickly warming as Luna nestled in close, her mane a cascade of starlight against my skin. Her scent — of night air and lavender — enveloped me, a fragrance I had come to associate with her presence.

Gently, I took her hoof in my hand, lifting it to my lips for a soft kiss. Then, with a tender touch, I traced my fingers along her foreleg, following the familiar contours until I reached the scar just above her heart. She inhaled softly but made no move to pull away. Instead, a quiet hum of contentment escaped her as I brushed my fingers over the ridge of the scar.

"You like it when I do this," I murmured, my voice carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

A small smile played at her lips, her eyes still closed. "Perhaps," she whispered, her tone playful, though the truth lay just beneath it.

Leaning down, I pressed a soft kiss to her temple, and she sighed, nuzzling in closer. Her horn lightly brushed my cheek, sending a faint tingle through my skin. I couldn’t help but chuckle. "So this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?" I teased. "Invite me here just to use me as your personal heater?"

Luna opened one eye, her expression the picture of innocence, though the glimmer in her gaze betrayed her. "I would never do such a thing," she said, though her voice was laced with mirth.

I laughed quietly, the sound low and soft in the stillness of her bedroom. The banter between us had always been light, effortless — but now, it felt wrapped in something deeper. Before I could respond and continue our little exchange, a faint ray of sunlight crept through the window, casting a warm glow over the edge of the bed. Luna’s eyes followed it, and she let out a displeased groan.

"Must we endure this intrusion so soon?" she muttered, pouting ever so slightly.

I grinned. "You could always ask your sister to delay sunrise."

"She’d never agree," Luna muttered, casting a glare toward the offending light. "She takes too much pride in her punctuality."

With a swift flick of her magic, the blankets were lifted and draped over our heads, cocooning us in soft, velvety darkness. I chuckled as Luna settled back in, scrunching her nose in defiance of the daylight.

"Now," she whispered, thoroughly satisfied, "the day cannot reach us."

In the warm darkness beneath the covers, our faces were a mere few inches apart. I could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breath soft and even. Her eyes, though half-lidded, still sparkled with that quiet affection I had come to hold so dear to my heart.

I leaned in, our foreheads touching, and a small smile on my lips. "You’re adorable when you pout," I whispered, brushing my thumb along her cheek.

She scoffed lightly, though the warmth in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "I do not pout," she insisted, taking up a mock regal tone, but there was no bite behind her words. "I’m merely displeased with the sun's timing."

"Of course," I murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. "My mistake, Princess."

Luna hummed in approval, her hoof sliding to rest on my side as she nestled even closer. In the quiet, beneath the blankets, with the world shut out and only the steady warmth of her body pressed against mine, everything felt… right.

Perfect, even.

"I could get used to this," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could catch them. They felt as natural as breathing.

Her eyes fluttered open just enough for me to catch the tender smile on her lips. "You’d better," she whispered back, her voice soft but filled with certainty. "Because I don’t intend to let you go."

And with that, there was no need for any more words. As the light outside tried and failed to breach our sanctuary, we drifted off, lulled to sleep by the quiet rhythm of each other’s breathing. In that moment, as I closed my eyes, I realized that this — being here, with her — was all I ever needed.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The dream settled in slowly, like the soft fall of a heavy cloak. At first, I didn’t understand where I was or why everything felt so strangely familiar. The air was thick, almost suffocating, but it wasn’t oppressive. It was... lonely. Then, like the slow unfurling of a distant memory, the place came into focus.

I stood in the middle of a vast, empty expanse. The ground beneath my feet was smooth, an endless stretch of polished obsidian that reflected the dim, unnatural light above. There was no sky — just the glowing orb high above, casting a pale, sickly glow across the landscape. It wasn’t a real sun, but I knew what it was.

It was the Singularity, waiting to be set in motion.

If that was the Singularity, then this must be Meridin’s demiplane.

I blinked, and the realization hit me hard: I wasn’t me. I was Meridin — his hands, his body, his scars, and all his weight pressing down upon my shoulders. The memory of his existence surrounded me like a heavy shroud, tugging me further into his world. He looked just like just me, only older, worn down by the passage of decades and the constant weight of impossible choices.

A soft hoot broke the silence, and I turned to see Aldin perched on a smooth obsidian pillar nearby, his feathers ruffled, eyes sharp and bright. His beak clicked in frustration as he hopped down, pacing back and forth before me. His usual teasing, sarcastic demeanor was discarded, replaced by something far more urgent.

“You can't do this, Meridin!” Aldin’s voice was filled with desperation I had never seen before. His wings flared, and he flapped over to me, settling on the ground in front of me as he peered up with wide, pleading eyes. “Are you truly this mad? There’s still time — we can fight the Malignance another way. You have to try something else.”

The words echoed in my mind, but they didn’t feel like mine. This was Meridin’s conversation, his moments. I felt myself respond, but the words came from somewhere deeper, somewhere older than I.

“There is no other way, Aldin.” My voice sounded different — deeper, more burdened. “The Singularity is the only chance we have left. You know this as well as I do. It’s the only thing that can end it.”

Aldin’s feathers puffed up, his eyes flashing with anger. “End it? You mean unmake it? Or unmake us? You don’t even know if it’ll actually work! All you’ll be doing is erasing everything — you, me, this demiplane! And even if you succeed, what then? The rest of existence will forget you ever even existed!”

I clenched my fists, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than I wanted to admit. Aldin wasn’t wrong, and somewhere, deep inside, Meridin knew that too. But the truth — my truth — was undeniable. “We’ve already lost too much,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “I don’t even remember who we’ve lost anymore, Aldin. Like... pieces of my soul have been ripped out, and all that’s left is the emptiness. You’re the only one left that I can remember. Everyone else is...”

Aldin’s beak clacked again, but this time it was softer, almost mournful. “And if you go through with this, I won’t even have the memory of you. You’ll be gone, Meridin. Erased from time. From me.”

I swallowed hard, fighting back the rising tide of emotion that threatened to break through. The pain of it was almost unbearable, the idea of leaving Aldin behind, of being forgotten by the last person who had stood by my side through everything.

But what other choice is there?

“I can’t let the Malignance win,” I whispered, hating myself and the situation equally. “Not after everything — everyone it’s taken. I owe that much to them.”

Aldin stepped closer, his wings dropping as he looked up at me with sad, determined eyes. “Then fight it,” he said. “Just one more time. One last fight before you do something that can’t be undone. Don’t give up hope — not yet. You owe that much to me.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy and oppressive. Aldin’s words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I let myself imagine it. One last battle. One last chance to win, to save what was left without resorting to the Singularity.

Could it work?

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’ll fight it,” I said, the words feeling heavier than anything I had ever spoken. “One last time. But I can’t promise victory, Aldin. Not this time.”

Aldin let out a soft hoot, his wings fluttering as he perched upon my shoulder, nuzzling against my cheek. “That’s all I ask,” he whispered. “Just one more chance.”

The weight of the decision settled over me like a crushing wave. I looked up at the Singularity hovering above us, its pale sickly light casting long shadows that seemed to stretch on forever across the empty plane. It was waiting, patient and silent, for the moment when I would release it and everything within this demiplane would cease to be.

But not now. Not yet. Not until the final battle was fought.

I turned to Aldin, my heart twisting with what I had to do next. He had been with me through everything — through every victory, every loss, every moment of despair and hope. But now, I had to send him away. I couldn’t let him stay for what was to come next.

“Forgive me,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I raised a hand. The familiar words of a spell came to my lips, the incantation soft and mournful as it filled the air between us. Aldin’s eyes widened in realization, and flapped his wings frantically.

“No — Meridin, don’t! You promised!”

“I promised to fight,” I said, the spell gathering strength as my fingers traced the air. “But you can’t stay for this. You can’t—”

“I won’t leave you!” Aldin screeched, his wings flapping wildly as he tried to reach me. “You can’t send me away like this! Don’t you dare!”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away as I finished the spell. “I’m sorry, best-buddy. I’m so sorry.”

As I reached out and lightly tapped him atop his head, the magic surged forward and wrapped around Aldin in a soft, glowing light. He screeched again, his voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation as the spell took hold. His form shimmered, beginning to fade as the Plane Shift activated, sending him away to the Boneyard where the Lady of Graves promised to take care of him.

"Meridin!" Aldin’s voice echoed in the empty void, a final cry of desperate protest before being whisked away fully.

And then… silence.

I stood alone. The absence of Aldin’s presence struck harder than I expected, leaving a hollow, aching space where he’d been moments before. My breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as I struggled to process the emptiness that clung to me like a second skin. There was nothing left here — no comfort, no warmth. Just the cold certainty of what was to come.

I looked up at the Singularity, its light casting eerie shadows across the featureless expanse of the demiplane. The orb hovered, patient and indifferent as always, waiting for the moment when I would finally release it. That moment would come soon — too soon — but not yet. I had promised Aldin that I would fight, one last time. I honor my promises.

But I was so tired.

The weight of all I had lost pressed down on me, suffocating in its heaviness. Faces danced at the edge of my mind — blurry, indistinct, smoke on the wind. There used to be so many people there, so many faces. Friends. Allies. Lovers, perhaps? I couldn’t remember. No matter how hard I tried to hold on to them, they slipped away, erased from existence, from the very fabric of time itself. The Malignance had taken them all, unmade them in ways I could barely comprehend. I knew I had cared for them, loved them, fought for them, even died for them a few times. But now, they were nothing more than vague impressions, scattered fragments of a life that had once been full.

And soon, I would be joining them.

I closed my eyes, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Aldin had been the last one, the only one who still stood by my side after all this time. He had seen me through every battle, every loss, every moment of doubt. But now he was gone too, sent away to a place where I knew for certain that he would be safe. Where he wouldn’t have to witness what came next. Where he wouldn’t have to remember me.

That was the cruelest part of all, wasn’t it? Even if I succeeded, even if I managed to set off the Singularity and unmake the Malignance, it wouldn’t matter. I would be gone. Wiped clean from the fabric of reality, erased from everyone's memories. The victories I’d won, the sacrifices I’d made — they would all vanish, leaving everything I had ever done to be attributed to no one.

What kind of legacy was that?

I chuckled softly, the sound bitter and hollow in the vast emptiness of the demiplane. A legacy built on nothing. A fight for survival where the only reward was oblivion.

Was this really how it ended? After everything I had endured, after all the battles and the bloodshed, after all the lives lost and forgotten — this was the best I could hope for? A quiet, empty place where I could fade into nothingness, unnoticed, unremembered?

I stared down at my hands, scarred and worn from decades of strife. They trembled slightly as I clenched them into fists, the weight of the years pressing down on me, ever heavier. I had been fighting for so long. I couldn’t even remember why I had started anymore. Was it for revenge? For justice? For duty?

It didn’t matter now. None of it mattered.

All that remained was this final choice. This one last act. My swan song.

I would face the Malignance one last time, as I had vowed. A promise made, though I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be enough. The Malignance was inevitable. Unstoppable. It had already unmade gods, left entire cities unmade it its wake, and has already begun to chip away at the different planes. How could I hope to stand against it?

I had fought this abomination before, together alongside others just as strong as I. And together we failed. Now, I stood alone.

My gaze drifted up to the Singularity, it was pulsing faintly. It waited, biding its time until I would unleash it. That moment would come soon — sooner than I wanted. When it did, there would be nothing left. The Malignance, the demiplane, and I.

All undone.

At least in the unmaking, there would be peace.

A tremor rippled through the air. Faint, like a whisper on the wind, but I felt it keenly. My breath caught, and I stilled. There it was. A shift, barely perceptible, but undeniable in its intensity.

It was coming.

The Malignance.

I could sense it now, pressing against the edges of the demiplane, testing the wards I had erected to both keep it out and lure it in. Its presence was suffocating — a mass of nothingness, twisting in ways that defied thought and reality. It had no form, no face, no true outline to focus on — just a relentless hunger to unmake everything in its path.

My pulse quickened as I turned toward the horizon. Thin, jagged cracks appeared, snaking through the fabric of the demiplane like fractures in glass. Darkness oozed through, spreading, infecting. The ground trembled beneath the weight of the Malignance, and the very air around me seemed to want to unravel.

This was the end.

I took a slow breath, steeling myself for what was to come. I would fight, as I had promised Aldin. I would stand against the Malignance, even if it meant nothing in the end.

But the truth hung heavy. I was already forgotten. Already erased.

The cracks widened, and the nothingness surged.

Everything shattered.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

I gasped, my body jerking awake, heart pounding as if I had just emerged from deep waters. The world was hazy, my thoughts scattered in my waking, and for a brief moment, I couldn’t place where I was exactly. The emotions from the memory clung to me, while its specifics were slipping through my fingers like so many grains of sand as I tried to grasp ahold of it.

But it was already gone from my mind, already forgotten.

The memory slipped further and further away, receding into the shadows of sleep as I desperately tried to cling to it. Whatever I had just dreamt — whoever I had lost — was quickly fading, leaving behind only a gnawing ache in my chest. My mind grasped at those shadows, but the harder I tried to remember, the more distant it became, until all that was left was the overwhelming sense that something precious had been torn from me.

I shifted slightly, the sorrow pressing against my ribs, suffocating in its intensity. The warmth surrounding me, though, was real — solid and soft, a welcomed contrast to the dark pit left by the forgotten dream.

Luna.

She was here, her body curled against mine, her gentle breath rising and falling in time with the slow rhythms of sleep. The scent of her fur — ever familiar and comforting — solidified me in the present moment, even as the lingering misery refused to release its hold.

My movement must have disturbed her, for she stirred beside me, she let out a sleep-heavy sigh that filled the quiet of her bedchamber. She shifted, and before I could react, her forelegs wrapped around me, pulling me tighter into her embrace. Her chest pressed against my face. The steady beating of her heart was all that I could hear, its drowning tempo stamping out the remnants of the dream with each lovely beat of her heart.

I inhaled slowly, trying to calm myself. The warmth of her body radiated through me, easing the tension that formed knots in my muscles. Luna’s hold was firm yet tender, and even in her sleep, she seemed to know I needed this. Her fur was soft against my cheek, her scent soothing the restless sorrow that lingered at the edges of my thoughts.

I closed my eyes, letting myself melt into her embrace. The rhythm of her life, the gentleness of her touch — it was all I wanted to focus on now. Slowly, the sorrow ebbed away, replaced by a quiet comfort. Luna was here, with me, in this moment. I wasn’t alone. Whatever feelings of grief that the dream had tried to leave behind was being slowly pushed back by Luna’s presence.

Her heart beat against my ear, a constant that ensured me that she was real, that I was here, safe in her bed. The daylight pressed faintly at the edges of the curtains, but that didn’t matter. The light and the world beyond this room was irrelevant. All that mattered to me was the soft rise and fall of her chest beneath my head, the warmth of her body entwined with mine, and the love that burned away the dream's pain.

I pressed myself closer to her, breathing in the scent of her, seeking solace in the way her body enveloped mine. The misery that had gripped me so tightly just a few moments ago began to loosen its hold on me. Luna’s presence filled the empty space the dream had left behind, soothing the unspoken grief.

I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, wrapped in her embrace, but the familiar weight of sleep began to pull at me again, the sorrow still present but far duller now than before. Luna’s hold on me never loosened, her forelegs pulling me closer as if, even in her dreams, she could sense my need for her.

The memory of the dream had long since slipped from my mind, vanishing into the great haze of slumber. Yet the ache it had left behind remained akin to a ghost that refused to pass on.

But a question still gnawed at me. It was buried deep in the pit of my stomach, unrelenting despite the comfort of her love.

Who had I forgotten?

Feathers

I sat cross-legged on the floor of my room, my eyes affixed to the quill resting before me. The room dim, with the evening light casting soft shadows across the walls. The air felt heavy, still, as if the very air itself was waiting for something to happen. On the bed, Aldin perched silently, his round eyes watching me with a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement. His feathers ruffled slightly as he shifted, clearly unimpressed by the whole ordeal.

"You're overthinking it again, Seb," Aldin broke the room’s silence, his voice a familiar blend of crass humor and wisdom. "It's just a feather."

I exhaled slowly, glancing at the worn book beside me, Basic Magic for Unicorn Foals. The slim blue volume looked harmless enough, its simplicity mocking me in the face of the herculean task at hand.

Telekinesis.

Something unicorn foals learned instinctively at an early age. And here I was, a grown ass man, struggling to move a quill.

"It’s a quill. You’d think I'd have this down by now, mastered it even," I muttered, my voice thick with frustration. My hand hovered over the quill, fingers trembling slightly as I tried to focus. “I can throw Fireballs around, summon all sorts of things, and more, but I’m stopped by the magic that foals do by accident!”

"That’s because foals aren’t all in their heads about it," Aldin replied, his beak clacking as if he were rolling his eyes — if owls could do such a thing. "You're trying to control it like it’s one of your spells. Like you said, unicorn magic isn’t about measuring or calculating. You have to let it flow, remember?"

Flow. That’s what the damned book kept repeating. Unicorn magic came from both the user and the world around them, blending into something natural and effortless. But for me, there was nothing effortless about it, especially since I lacked the natural advantage of a horn. My arcane magic was all about precision, and structure — it followed strict rules and patterns to both function and for caster safety. But this? This was anathema, an alien force I struggled to grasp no matter how many hours I spent trying.

I took another deep breath and tried to clear my mind. Focus on the quill. Visualize it moving. Let your magic flow through the world.

But nothing happened. The quill refused my will, and stayed stubbornly still. That spiteful fucking feather!

"Come on, Seb. You’ve got this." Aldin’s tone was softer now, though still edged with his usual bluntness. "Stop thinking like a wizard for two seconds."

I closed my eyes, trying to shake off the frustration building in my chest. I wasn’t a wizard right now. I wasn’t the apprentice of a princess, or some spellcaster wielding fire and summons. I was just… me. And I needed to stop thinking that I could force the quill to move through sheer willpower alone.

Let it flow.

Slowly, I opened my eyes again and focused. Not on moving the quill, but on the space around it. On what lay there, hidden away from mundane sight. I could almost feel the energy in the air — subtle, like the faintest breeze that brushed past unnoticed unless you stopped to pay attention. This wasn’t about pulling the magic from within, or shaping it with careful intent. It was about finding the current and following it.

For a moment, I felt something. A flicker, a hum just beneath the surface of my skin. My right hand tingled, the faintest trace of warmth pooling in my palm. It wasn’t the usual crackle of arcane energy, the sharp precision of my more familiar arcane magic taking form. No, this was softer, more diffuse. It wasn’t mine, not entirely.

"That’s it," Aldin encouraged. "You’re close!"

I kept my focus, feeling the flow of magic around me, through me. My fingers twitched, my palm glowing faintly as a soft hazel aura began to shimmer around my hand. The golden center of my magic flared gently, encircled by the deep green that bled outward like a slow, pulsing heartbeat. Almost like it was alive.

Within my mind’s eye, I visualized the quill moving — just a little, just an inch.

The aura pulsated in my hand, a hazel light struggled to envelope the quill. For a second, nothing happened. I could feel the strain building in my chest, the same physical exhaustion creeping in that had plagued me every time I practiced this kind of magic. My muscles protested, my breath quickened, but my focus was resolute.

Then, my aura surrounded the quill, wrapping it in the soft glow of my magic.

It twitched.

"Yes," I whispered under my breath, eyes widened with hope. "Come on! Come to papa!"

The quill shifted slightly, moving an inch across the stone floor.

An inch.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The hazel glow vanished as I released my grip on the magic, my hand dropping to my side, as heavy as a stone from exhaustion. My heart raced, but I smiled, the smallest bit of triumph blooming in my chest.

"You did it," Aldin said, his voice filled with quiet pride, though there was still a trace of teasing there. "An inch. Maybe you won’t completely embarrass yourself at a magic kindergarten after all."

I chuckled, too tired to retort. My entire body felt drained, as though I’d just finished a particularly taxing run. It was ridiculous, how much effort it took to move something so small. But I had done it. Finally. After hours, days of failure, I had moved the damn quill an inch.

Who needs horns? I have like ten of them attached to my hands!

"’Suppose an inch is a decent enough start," I murmured, leaning back against the bed frame, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

Aldin fluffed his feathers, his head tilting as he looked me over. "Not bad for a human trying to learn unicorn magic."

I smiled weakly at him, grateful for his presence. Despite all the teasing and the tough love, Aldin had stuck by me through this slog. He had witnessed me struggle, fail, and now, finally, make some progress.

"Yeah, not bad," I agreed, closing my eyes for a moment, basking in the sense of accomplishment as it washed over me.

The quill sat motionless again on the floor, but this time, I knew I could move it. Maybe not easily, not yet. But I could do it. That proof of concept proved that soon enough I would be able to do more. Maybe even experiment with a little mixing of arcane and unicorn magics. My fingers twitched, itching to try again, but I leaned back for a moment, granting myself time to relax.

I hadn’t told Luna about the practice. I could imagine the look of surprise on her face, those brilliant eyes of hers widening in a mixture of shock and curiosity. She was always so attuned to the arcane, her magic flowing as naturally as the night she commanded.

For me, though? This was a challenge.

And I am a sucker for a challenge.

I smiled, the exhaustion was already starting to ebb away, giving way to that familiar hum of determination. There was something about figuring this out, about tapping into a new facet of magic. It was exhilarating.

Aldin’s voice broke through my thoughts. "You're thinking too much again, aren’t you?"

I glanced over at him, perched comfortably on the bed, his feathers puffed slightly in that casual way of his. His sharp eyes were trained on me, but they softened with the knowing look he always seemed to give when he thought I was lost in my head.

"Yeah, probably," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “Just thinking about how Luna’s gonna react when she finds out about this. She has no idea I’ve been trying my hand at unicorn magic.”

Aldin chuckled, his beak clicking. "She’ll probably think you’re a glutton for punishment when she sees how much it wipes you out."

"Yeah, well, temporary exhaustion is but a small price to pay," I said with a shrug, glancing at the quill again. “Besides, the more I practice, the less tired this kind of magic makes me. Maybe it’s getting easier, or my constitution is improving? Hmmm…”

I could hear the soft rustling of Aldin’s feathers as he stretched, the sounds of flapping filling the space between us for a moment. Then, something else stirred in the back of my mind, a thought that hadn’t surfaced in a long while, but one that had always lingered. I looked back at Aldin, curiosity tugging at me.

"Hey… best-buddy, do you remember anything about Meridin?" I asked, leaning forward slightly, my voice quieter now.

Aldin blinked, his round eyes growing more serious. He tilted his head to the side, considering the question for a moment before answering. “Not much, really,” he said after a pause. "Only what you told everyone when we first arrived here. You talked about him almost like he was a part of you. But, that’s it."

I nodded slowly, his answer didn’t surprise me. I hadn't really spoken of Meridin in a long time. Aldin wasn’t with me back when Meridin was the cornerstone of my life, back when I was still on Earth, playing tabletop games with my few friends and getting lost with them in those tales of fantasy and danger. Aldin knew him from within those stories, before he was unmade alongside Meridin by the Singularity.

Meridin was my creation, my first player character in Pathfinder. I remembered every detail of his adventures, every spell, every close call, those few deaths he endured, and everyone he lost along the way.

But those were memories of a game. Nothing more.

Except… were they?

Ever since I arrived on Equis and found myself in this new body — Meridin’s body — those memories felt more real. Like they weren’t just something we rolled dice for, but actual experiences Meridin must have had lived. It was strange, almost unsettling sometimes. As if I wasn’t just playing him, but had always been him.

Aldin, though, didn’t know any of that. He didn’t remember Meridin the way I did. Hell, he doesn’t remember him at all. The life I thought I knew about Meridin was all based on the game we had played. But now? Now it felt like there was more to it all, something deeper, something I couldn’t quite place.

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, I suppose Meridin was a big part of my life for a long time. Even before I arrived on Equis."

"Sounds like he still is," Aldin said, his voice softer now. "You talk about him like he’s more than just some character in a game.”

I looked at Aldin, meeting his amber eyes, and felt a flicker of something — recognition, maybe. The feeling was hard to pin down, but Aldin was right. Meridin wasn’t just some character anymore. He was… well, he was me, in a way. And yet, the dream from a few days ago — it was gone, slipped away like mist being burned away underneath the morning sun. All that remained of the dream was a vague sense of loss and sorrow when I thought of it, but nothing I could really put words to. Nothing I could remember.

It was nothing like the nightmares of my early days after my arrival to Equis. Those dreams of slaughter and vrock, were repetitive and I remembered them even now.

I couldn’t remember a shred of this new dream, and it didn’t even have the decency to repeat. Although, I suppose, that was most likely a good thing.

I shook my head. "I guess he is," I murmured. "But still, it’s weird. I know everything about him from our games, but it feels like there’s more to it. Like, I know of him, but… maybe I don’t know him nearly as well as I think I do." I frowned, the feeling too abstract to properly explain.

Aldin tilted his head again, watching me closely. "Maybe it's better not to dwell on it too much, Seb. You’ve got enough to focus on here." He glanced at the quill. "Like not passing out from trying to move tiny feathers.”

I laughed lightly at that, grateful for the distraction. And Aldin had a point. As much as I wanted to dig deeper into the strange connection between Meridin and I, there were more immediate things I needed to focus on. Unicorn and my arcane magic, for one. Luna, for another.

My life here, in Equis, was what mattered now.

I stretched my arms, feeling the tightness in my muscles beginning to ease. The brief break had given me enough time to recover some energy, and the weariness from earlier was fading. Slowly, I stood up, rolling my shoulders and flexing my fingers.

"Alright," I said, feeling that spark of determination light up again. "Time for round two."

Aldin let out a soft hoot, flapping his wings and settling back down comfortably. "Just don’t find a way to blow yourself up."

I grinned at him. "No promises, best-buddy."

With renewed focus, I returned my attention to the quill on the floor. This time, I felt more confident, my mind clearer. I knew I could move it. I had already done it once. Now, it was just a matter of pushing myself a little further each time. I raised my right hand, letting the magic flow through me again, drawing from the world around me.

The hazel aura began to form around my hand, softer than before but far more steady. The gold at the center flickered with a faint green glow, the green growing brighter. I could feel the magic flowing through me again, but this time, it was a little bit easier.

My aura wrapped around the quill, and it trembled within the light. My focus flowed, and with a breath, I visualized it sliding upward.

The quill lifted.

Another inch.

I smiled as I let the aura cease, and the quill floated down to the stone floor.

I had done it again.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

"Y’know," I drawled, leaning against Luna's throne with a teasing grin, "you could make this easier on me. Maybe wear something a little more distracting. Or, you know, nothing at all."

Luna’s eyes flicked to me, a playful glint reflecting off the moonlight streaming through the throneroom’s high windows. The blue of her coat shimmered subtly as she shifted atop her throne, the edges of her usual regalia catching the light just right. She arched a brow, a smirk gracing her lips.

"And what would my court think if I sat upon my throne without a stitch of decorum?" she replied, her tone full of mock seriousness. "What kind of Princess would I be, letting my apprentice ogle me in such a state?"

"An excellent one," I said smoothly, crossing my arms and leaning further into the throne’s side. "You’d be keeping things interesting at least. Night Court’s dead as usual, and I need something to keep me entertained."

Her smirk deepened. "Surely you can entertain yourself in other ways, my love."

I shrugged, though I couldn’t hope to suppress my grin. "Well, there is something I could think of. But last time we tried it, I could barely move the next day. And let’s just say I don’t think your throne is the best place for it."

Her expression softened a fraction, the intensity of the memory we shared washing over us both. The night of the Grand Galloping Gala. The sparring match that led to us going at it, in more ways than one. The fire, the passion, the closeness. My heart still pounded thinking about it, and I could tell by the way her gaze matched mine that the same memories were also fresh in her mind.

Luna cleared her throat softly, her regal composure returning as she shifted in place atop her throne, one wing flicking ever so slightly at her side. "Indeed, not the best place for such... pursuits." She chuckled, the sound low and melodic. "I fear we would end up distracting ourselves far too much, should we entertain that idea during my court."

"I don't know," I teased, "a bit of excitement wouldn’t hurt. Besides, not like anyone's here anyway."

"As I have said before, it is not the presence of petitioners that requires my attention, but the potential for them to arrive," she said, though her voice held no real chastisement. "A Princess must be prepared, even in the stillness of the night."

I always respected Luna’s dedication to her duties, even if I didn’t show it as much as I should. There was a strength to her, a vigilance that had impressed me from the very moment we met. Though, to be fair, I was pretty sure she was going to skin me alive back then. She managed Night Court with the same care her sister gave to Day Court, even on quiet nights like this.

It was simply part of who she was.

But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me want to push her buttons just a little more.

I shifted from the side of the throne and took a position beside her, my hand resting lightly upon the Promise’s pommel at my hip. I gave her a sidelong look, taking in the elegant curves of her form, the way her wings rested against her sides. Even when she was fully in her role as Princess of the Night, Luna had a certain allure that never failed to draw me in.

Maybe the allure had always been there, and I had simply been blind to it?

"Fine," I said, pretending to relent. "I’ll behave. But it’s not my fault that you’re so... distracting."

Her wing twitched again, and her eyes briefly darted toward me, the corners of her mouth threatening to lift. "Then perhaps it is not I who should change, but you who should focus, my dear apprentice."

"Maybe." I let out a small, exaggerated sigh, and ran my hand through my hair. "But it’s hard to focus when all I can think about is... well, you."

Luna tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with that teasing look of hers. "And yet, you do so well hiding it when needed."

A soft chime echoed in my mind, faint but clear — the signal from the Alarm spell I’d set at the door. I glanced at the entrance, but it remained undisturbed. Just the rare passing guard then.

Night Court remained quiet as usual.

I turned my gaze back to Luna, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, her wings tucked neatly but clearly brimming with energy. Something about the way her wings moved had caught my attention this night, especially after I’d watched Aldin preen himself a few days ago.

There was something almost hypnotic about it, the way his small feathers shifted under his beak as he cared for them. It stirred an idea within me — one that took root and refused to be forgotten. Each time my eyes drifted toward Luna’s wings, that idea grew louder, a thought I hadn’t yet shared but found increasingly impossible to ignore.

Luna's wings, unlike Aldin's, were massive and beautiful. Every time I saw them stretch, the feathers ruffling slightly, I felt a sort of pull toward them, a desire to care for them — to care for her. I knew next to nothing about preening, but it seemed like an act of intimacy. And with everything we’d shared… I was curious.

I found my gaze gravitating towards her wings again. They were mesmerizing, really.

Maybe I could ask her tonight. Perhaps, I should. Couldn’t hurt.

"Luna..." I began softly, my eyes still on her wings. "There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you."

She tilted her head slightly, sensing the change in my tone. "Yes?"

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing, but I felt that same determination rise within me that I get when I face a challenge.

Now or never.

I took a steadying breath before asking, “Would you be willing to teach me how to preen your wings?”

For a moment, Luna didn’t respond. Her eyes widened subtly, just enough for me to question whether I had misstepped. I could feel my heart rate pick up as doubts crept into my mind. Had I crossed a line? Was this a personal or cultural act that I’d unknowingly trivialized?

My mind raced to find an apology, a way to take it all back. But then, almost imperceptibly, her wings shifted — a tiny, almost involuntary flutter — and it eased the tightness in my chest. Her gaze softened, and she gave a small, intimate smile that made my doubts begin to evaporate.

"You wish to learn?” she repeated, her voice contemplative, as if turning the request over slowly in her mind. “To preen my wings?"

I nodded, my words stumbling out awkwardly. "Yeah... I’ve seen Aldin doing it, and I know it’s something important to you. I noticed you stretching them more tonight, and I thought maybe I could help. If... if you want me to, that is.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, and I could feel the beginnings of sweat on the back of my neck. Luna’s eyes flicked down to her wings, her expression shifting into something I couldn’t quite place. She was considering it. But there was something deeper there, something that I wasn’t privy to yet.

Then, to my surprise, she let out a quiet, almost tender laugh. "You are rather bold with your requests, my dear apprentice.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to hide my embarrassment. "I, uh, didn’t mean to make it awkward. I just—"

A soft, feathery touch against my arm interrupted my stumbling explanations. Her wing brushed against me lightly, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "It isn’t weird, Sebastian. Far from it.” Her eyes met mine, warm and unwavering, a look that held me in place. “I find your curiosity... endearing. I would not object to your assistance. But perhaps, not here.”

Luna glanced around the throne room. The emptiness of Night Court enveloped us, only the faint occasional noise of the castle at night to bring any sound to the otherwise silent ambiance. I glanced at the throne room door, the Alarm spell I’d cast earlier lay in place, so far only a passing guard has triggered it.

“After court,” Luna continued, her voice velvet soft in the quiet of the room. "In the privacy of my bedchambers. It would be... more fitting there."

My pulse quickened at the thought. The idea of being with her in her chambers again, doing something that now felt so personal — even if I didn’t fully understand the full depth of it yet — had my heart racing away.

"Alright," I said, somehow keeping my voice steady despite the rush of excitement rattling away in my veins."After Night Court, then."

Luna’s eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before she settled back into her throne fully, resuming her regal posturing. Her wings tucked themselves back neatly against her sides, but I noticed the way her gaze would occasionally flicker towards me, as though she was thinking about what came next as much as I was.

The minutes passed slowly. With no petitioners to tend to, the night dragged on in quiet conversations filled with small-talk and bouts of amiable silence. Each moment stretched more than it should, and I found myself growing impatient, my eyes occasionally drifting back to her wings again. Luna caught my glances a few times, smirking slightly but offering nothing. She was content to let my anticipation build.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Luna let out a sigh, her eyes drifting toward the windows. She gazed at the sky, the moon and stars reflected in her eyes as if she could read the heavens like a clock. "It seems no one will be coming tonight."

I straightened, pushing away from my spot against the throne, a flicker of renewed energy sparking through my limbs. "So... Court’s done?"

With deliberate grace, Luna rose from her seat, her wings unfurling in a languid stretch. As she stepped down from the throne, her eyes met mine, and the formality of the throne room dissolved, replaced by something far more intimate.

"Come," she said, her voice carrying a rich warmth. "It is time we retire."

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Falling in step behind her, the familiar weight of Promise swaying at my side as we made our way through the dimly lit corridors. Moonlight spilled through the high windows, casting silver beams across the stone floor. Shadows danced in rhythm with our steps, as if the castle itself had come alive to witness our passage. Luna walked ahead, her wings tucked gracefully at her sides, her every step fluid and silent, the princess of the night in her element.

As we climbed the steps of her spire and neared her bedchambers, high above the castle proper, my thoughts ran wild. Not just with the thought of what I was about to learn, but with how close we had become. From the tender confessions of love to the wild intimacy we had shared after that sparring match... and now this.

Luna stopped at her chamber door, her magic gently opening it before she stepped inside. I followed her in, the familiar warmth of her room surrounding me as the doors closed softly behind us.

Luna's chambers were becoming a second home, each visit imbuing the space with a sense of familiarity. The silver moonlight cascaded through the tall windows, painting the walls in soft light. The fireplace was dark tonight, its warmth replaced by the crisp coolness of the night air, mixing with the calming scent of lavender — Luna’s scent.

I stood at the entrance, watching her move with practiced grace to the center of the room. In the dim light, she glowed faintly, her dark coat shimmering, a living contrast of shadow and moonlight.

She turned, her gaze meeting mine with a smile that danced between warmth and mischief, inviting without a word. Her eyes flicked toward the bed, and though she said nothing, the invitation was clear, sparking a quickening in my chest.

"You seem a little tense, my dear apprentice," Luna teased, her voice a playful lilt that made my pulse quicken further. "There’s no need to be so nervous."

I stifled a laugh, trying to appear unbothered as I stepped forward. "Nervous? Me? No, of course not." I replied, though the slight tremor in my voice betrayed the truth. "But if I were, it’d only be because of you."

With effortless grace, Luna climbed onto the bed, her wings fluttering softly. Her regalia floated off in her magic, setting itself aside as she embraced the room’s low light in her full, natural beauty. Her wings, half-spread, left an inviting space beside her.

I paused at the edge of the bed, feeling that awkward hesitation of not knowing how to begin. Luna tilted her head, her eyes soft and affectionate. She patted the spot next to her with a hoof. "Come closer, Sebastian. Let me guide you."

Swallowing my nerves, I climbed in beside her, my gaze instinctively drawn to her wings. They were magnificent — strong, powerful, yet with a fragile beauty to them. I had touched them before in intimate moments we shared, but this felt different. More significant, somehow.

More special.

"Preening is a task of delicacy," Luna began, her tone shifting but still carrying the familiar softness that usually tinged our private conversations. "It requires patience, care... and most importantly, trust." She extended her wing toward me, feathers unfurling slightly in front of my hands. "Start by inspecting the feathers. Gently. Look for any that are out of place or damaged."

I nodded, absorbing her guidance as best I could. Truthfully, I doubted myself, but her presence instilled within me confidence. Slowly, I reached out with my right hand, fingertips grazing the silken down of her wing. The sensation was... unlike anything I’d ever felt. It was like touching a cloud, light and airy, with a subtle strength woven through each feather.

"That’s it," Luna murmured, her half-lidded gaze steady on my movements. "Now, smooth them gently with your fingers, realign them. Soft, but firm."

Taking a calming breath, I focused. My fingers traced the contour of her wing, aligning each feather with a tenderness I'd reserved for only the most precious things. Time seemed to blur around us, each stroke pulling me further into the rhythm of the task. Every feather was distinct beneath my touch, and I moved with newfound care, ensuring I lived up to her trust.

Luna's breathing slowed, her entire body relaxing beneath my touch. The quiet between us grew more profound — a shared moment that words would only serve to complicate. When I glanced at her, I noticed her eyes had drifted shut, her face taking up a serene expression. Luna was completely at peace. We did not speak; for in that moment, silence and touch spoke volumes more than any spoken words could hope to convey.

"You’re doing wonderfully," her voice hummed softly, threading through the comfortable silence. "Continue."

Her quiet encouragement sent a ripple through me, a gentle wave of warmth. My hands responded almost instinctively, moving with a sureness that hadn’t been there moments ago. As I continued, I noticed a few feathers misaligned, just slightly out of place. Recalling her earlier guidance, I delicately smoothed them into place. Each adjustment caused a subtle twitch from her wing, a reflex that felt intimate and personal.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know, I never imagined myself here, preening a princess’s wings.”

Luna’s eyes opened slowly, her expression soft and filled with amusement. “I wouldn’t allow just anypony, my love. You are… irreplaceable.”

Her words wrapped around my heart warmer than any possible embrace, and love settled between us. I returned to my task, hands more attuned now to the rhythm of her breathing, the quiet strength in her wings. The soft texture of each feather, the way they shimmered in the moonlight, mesmerized me. This closeness felt different — an unspoken bond forming with every tender stroke of my fingers.

Time seemed to slow as I worked further along her wing. The soft light of the moon bathed us in a tranquil glow, the world around fading until it was just the two of us. The quiet intimacy of it all enveloped me, leaving me aware of every soft breath she took, every subtle flutter of her wings under my touch.

After a while, Luna shifted, the other wing unfolding with elegant ease. “You may tend to the other, if you wish.”

I met her gaze, my heart swelling as her unspoken trust resonated through me. Without a word, I began the same delicate process with her other wing, but now my hands moved with more certainty. Each movement felt more natural than the last, like I was learning the secret language of her wings with each loving touch. Luna remained still, her breathing slow and content as she relaxed further beside me.

The minutes drifted by in quiet harmony, filled by the gentle rustling of feathers and the soft sound of her breathing. It was as if the world had paused, leaving only this shared space where our love deepened.

When I finished, I leaned back to admire my work. Her wings, now perfectly aligned, seemed to glow in the moonlight. Luna stretched them wide with a satisfied sigh, flexing them once, twice, before folding them neatly at her sides.

“You’ve done wonderfully, Sebastian,” she said, turning to face me with the same affection that constituted her voice earlier. “Thank you.”

A smile found its way to my face, a strong sense of contentment settling deep within me. “Anytime, Luna.”

Chaos

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The skies above Canterlot were churning, streaked with pink clouds that twisted like spun sugar. Chocolate milk fell in a steady stream, soaking the streets below. This wasn’t some strange weather event. This was pure, unfiltered chaos. And if my studies were right, only one being had the means and tendency to twist reality like this.

Discord.

My gaze flickered over to Luna. Her expression shifted from confused to determination as she too fully realized the gravity of the situation. When our eyes met, no words were needed. We knew exactly what this meant: Discord had broken free, and his chaos was spreading.

“Sebastian, we must act now,” Luna said, already rising from the bed. Her voice was level, but I could hear the urgency in it. “We must retrieve the Elements of Harmony.”

I nodded, trying to steady the turmoil swirling inside me. It hadn’t been long since we slipped out of the Dreamscape, but everything had already gone to shit. This was all happening fast, too fast. And it was my fault. Maybe if I hadn’t panicked under the Tree, Discord wouldn’t have broken free. Maybe the Tree wouldn’t have been forced to drain its power, fending off the nothingness that pursued us — pursued me.

The truth was inescapable — my presence resulted in the weakened state of the Tree of Harmony, granting Discord the opening he needed.

All of this, and all of what is to come is because of me. My failure.

My hands trembled as I pulled on my clothes, the fabric clinging to my damp skin. I kept seeing flashes of the Dreamscape — the moment my magic failed me, the helplessness that followed. Luna had been right there, standing with me, but I faltered.

Panicked.

Luna stood beside me, her regalia slipping into place like a second skin — the black crown, the peytral with her cutie mark, the silver shoes. One moment she was my Luna, soft and loving, and in the next, she was the Princess of the Night ready to face the awaiting chaos. I buckled the Belt of Physical Perfection around my waist, then donned the Laurel of Vast Intelligence and the Teashades of Night. Each item hummed with magic as it settled into place, but I barely registered it.

Lastly, I grabbed Promise, the sword Luna had gifted me. Its weight and name, a constant reminder of her trust and of my promises to her. However, her cutie mark engraved into the pommel seemed to mock me now. Did I really deserve her faith after what I let happen?

I needed to know if my magic would hold or if I was still afflicted with whatever those damned eyes did to me in the Dreamscape. I cast Mage Hand, and the familiar arcane energies responded to me. A translucent hand formed, solid and ready. I exhaled slowly, reassured by the sight.

At least my magic wouldn’t fail me.

“Are you ready?” Luna asked, her tone steady, but her eyes gave her away. She was prepared to face Discord, but there was tension there, the same tension I felt.

“Yeah,” I said, adjusting Promise at my side. “Let’s get the Elements.”

We rushed to the door. The air in Luna’s room felt thick, the growing chaos seeping into every corner. But there was no time to stop and bear witness to the unfolding chaos. Every second wasted was another second for Discord’s chaos to seep out and spread.

The hallways seemed to stretch endlessly before us as we descended from Luna’s tower. The rhythmic clack of Luna’s hooves echoed against the stone, my boots falling in sync beside her, but even that familiar sound felt distant, swallowed by the crackle of distorted thunder. It wasn’t a natural storm — it was something worse. The very air seemed to vibrate with a sense of mockery, as though the world itself had begun to sneer at us. Outside, the pink clouds thickened, their color pulsing with strange flashes of light — Discord’s touch smeared across the region.

Guilt reared its ugly head, and gnawed at my thoughts, an unrelenting pressure that only grew as we moved. This was my fault. I attracted that monster in the Dreamscape. I led it straight to the Tree. I panicked, faltered when it mattered the most. If I had been stronger, if I had resisted the fear and actually done something, maybe the Tree of Harmony wouldn’t have been weakened, maybe Discord wouldn’t have slipped free.

The damned voices still whispered in my mind, haunting me.

“Do not run, Sebastian Hilam…”

Discord was only free because of me.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay focused. There was no room for doubt right now. We needed the Elements of Harmony. Without them, there was no stopping Discord. No saving Equestria. As we neared the vault where the Elements were stored, I reached out with my mind, trying to sense Aldin through the empathic link we shared. His emotions usually hummed faintly in the background, a reassuring presence just at the back of my mind. But now...

A sudden spike of fear shot through the link, so sharp and sudden that it made me stumble. I caught myself against the wall, my breath hitching.

“Aldin,” I whispered, dread creeping into my chest like ice.

Luna’s head whipped around, her eyes sharp with concern. “What is it?”

“Aldin... something’s wrong.” I couldn’t explain it — whatever was happening, the link wasn’t clear enough to grant me more than general emotions. But it was enough to fuel a rapidly growing sense of urgency. We had to move faster.

The vault loomed ahead, its ancient stone face etched with runes of abjuration that visibly shimmered. It had stood since Canterlot’s earliest days, and now it safeguarded the only things that could stop this madness. Luna’s horn glowed softly as she approached, her magic activating the intricate lock. The great door began to groan open, every second feeling like a century as I gripped the hilt of Promise tighter. Aldin’s fear pulsed through the link, muddling my focus.

When the door finally opened, my heart nearly stopped.

Discord was already inside.

He floated in the air with impossibly casual grace, his mismatched limbs sprawled about as though he owned the place. His deer antler, blue goat horn, and absurd patchwork body only added to the grotesque sense of wrongness. His eyes gleamed, filled with an amusement that sent a cold chill down my spine and gave me pause.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, spinning something in his fingers. “Princess Luna! And who’s this? A new plaything? How delightful!”

I barely registered his words. My eyes were locked on what he was holding — the Elements of Harmony. All six of them looked drained, their vibrant colors faded from their gems, the life dimming from their once-brilliant forms. The sight twisted my stomach. I had hoped that the Tree’s weakening wouldn’t have affected them, but it would seem that this day was set on stomping on my hopes.

But that wasn’t what froze my blood.

On the pedestal beside Discord, where the Elements had been stored, sat a small chess piece. A piece in the shape of an owl figurine.

Aldin.

The realization hit me like a blow, panic flooding my mind. He wasn’t just afraid — he was trapped, transformed into that tiny piece. The fear, the guilt, everything from the Dreamscape came rushing back in a tidal wave of horror.

I had failed him too.

“Ah, this little guy?” Discord’s voice slithered into my thoughts, pulling me out of the haze of shock. He picked up the chess piece in his claw, turning it over like a shiny trinket, inspecting it under light. “Quite the hoot, isn’t he? He’s a riveting conversationalist.” He chuckled, tossing the figurine up and catching it with a flick of his wrist.

My muscles coiled instinctively, ready to strike, but I stopped myself. Aldin and the Elements were in his grasp already, and a reckless move could doom us all. The weight of Promise at my hip reminded me of the need for restraint, though every second felt like a fire blazed just underneath my skin. I glanced at Luna, searching for some plan or signal in her expression, but her face remained an unreadable mask, her focus locked solely on Discord.

“Release him, Discord,” Luna commanded, her voice as cold and sharp as winter’s bite.

Discord sighed theatrically, rolling his eyes as though we were interrupting his fun. “Oh, Luna, Luna, Luna. Always so serious. It’s just a little game! He’ll be back to his hooting, owlish self... in due time.” He twirled the figurine between his fingers, his grin wide and devilish. “Though, if I’m being honest, he would look marvelous on my mantle. Perhaps I’ll keep him.”

A low growl escaped me before I could stop it. Every fiber of my being screamed to act, to rush him, to end this madness. But I couldn’t. Charging now, while Discord held both the Elements and Aldin would be tantamount to suicide. He was toying with us, with me, and I couldn’t afford to let him win.

“Don’t worry, my little pony. Or — what are you, anyway?” He squinted at me, waving a claw in my direction. “No matter! I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other better.” His grin widened, showing off that one long fang as his eyes glittered with manic mischief.

Luna’s horn flared brighter, the air around us charged with her magic. But Discord merely raised an eyebrow, twirling the Elements in the air like toys. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned, his voice playful yet lined with threat. The Elements spun faster in the air, and I could see the faint cracks forming in their glow. “These little baubles are awfully fragile right now. It would be a shame if they... shattered.” His grin grew, dark and teasing.

I clenched my jaw, my mind racing. The Elements flickering like dying embers rather than the beacons of harmony they had once been. I felt the cold stab of realization. The only thing that could stop Discord was hanging by a thread — and I was the one who had frayed it.

“Sebastian.” Luna’s voice cut through the chaos swirling in my mind. Her tone was steady, the only thing keeping me from losing myself in the tempest of rage and guilt. “We cannot afford to act on impulse.”

Easier said than done. I swallowed, gripping Promise until the cool hilt bit into my palm. I had studied and trained for moments like this. Moments where danger thrived, but nothing could have prepared me for Discord — his twisted amusement, his casual malice. He treated this like it was nothing, a game to entertain himself. And perhaps to him it truly is nothing more than some game, but to us, this was no game.

This was everything.

"Ah, don't look so grim!" Discord’s voice slithered back, his tone oozing with mock sympathy. He lazily juggled the Elements in the air, each one flickering weakly, barely glowing at all. “Sebastian, I must say, I’ve become quite the admirer of your work!” His voice shifted to feigned enthusiasm as he drifted closer, his serpentine body curling uncomfortably near. “You’ve managed to unravel more harmony in one night than I have in centuries! Quite the feat!”

His words hit like a slap to the face. I could feel my pulse quicken, the anger swelling. Worse still was the guilt. I couldn’t even deny it — he wasn’t wrong. I fought against the urge to lash out, to fix this through sheer violence, magic, and force of will. My fingers twitched toward my side. Every impulse screamed to act. But Luna had been clear. We couldn’t let him bait us. The knot in my chest tightened with each mocking word.

Discord circled me, his mismatched wings flapping in slow, lazy strokes as he regarded me like some oddity he’d plucked from a carnival. "Really, you should be proud! I’ve always had to do the heavy lifting when it came to sowing chaos, but you… you made it so easy for me this time." He gave a dramatic sigh, placing a paw on his chest as if he were truly touched. “I could get used to this kind of teamwork.”

I glared at him, teeth gritted. "This isn't a game."

Discord’s eyes went wide, comically so, before he threw his head back with an exaggerated laugh. “Oh, but it is! It has always been a game, my dear boy. The only difference is, you’ve been playing blind.” He winked, his grin stretching wider than what should be possible. “But don’t worry — you’ll pick up the rules soon enough.”

I swallowed back the rising frustration, holding my ground. I wanted to demand that he release Aldin, return the Elements, end this madness. But Luna stood resolute beside me, her horn glowing as her focus never wavered. She knew how to handle Discord, Luna and Celestia had beaten him before. I had to trust her.

Discord sensed the tension between us and, with a snap of his fingers, the taunting continued. “What’s the matter? Feeling a little… impotent?” His eyes glittered as a strange sensation washed over me. For a moment, my magic felt... wrong, like something had been ripped away.

Panic rose again, and I instinctively reached out to cast Mage Hand, just to test it. Thankfully my magic flared to life, but Discord barely gave it a glance before chuckling. "Ah, still got your spark, I see. Good, good. Wouldn’t want you to be completely useless."

I stepped forward, Promise ready, but Discord danced away, his claws raised playfully. “Come now, don’t be so grim!” Another snap of his fingers, and a rain cloud appeared above my head, dripping chocolate milk down on me. It should’ve been ridiculous. Maybe it was, but with everything at stake, the absurdity was lost on me.

Luna’s gaze burned icy, her voice colder still. "This ends now, Discord."

"Oh, please!" he groaned, lazily snapping his fingers. The rain cloud vanished, and he floated back, rolling his eyes. “You and your sister... always so serious. You should try having some fun for once.”

Then, with a wicked grin, he snapped his fingers again.

The world snapped, and in an instant, everything shifted.

I staggered, disoriented, finding myself perched precariously on a random rooftop smack in the middle of Canterlot city. The castle’s grand spires pierced the sky, distant and taunting. Discord’s laughter lingered in the air, fading like a cruel echo. No trace of him, but his chaos taint was everywhere.

I stood momentarily frozen, reeling from the sudden displacement, my breath sharp in the thick, sugary air. Above me, pink clouds boiled, releasing torrents of chocolate rain that stained the cobblestones below. Canterlot had transformed into a grotesque carnival. Buildings twisted at impossible angles, bending and warping as though physics decided it no longer wished to work anymore and had long retired. Ponies scattered in every direction, their cries swallowed by the swirling madness.

I clenched Promise at my side, fingers twitching. Luna. She was still inside the castle, facing Discord alone. My gut twisted at the thought of her facing him without me. The Elements of Harmony were fragile, barely holding, and every second lost tipped the balance further in Discord’s favor. Not to mention Aldin trapped in that damned chess piece.

I couldn’t afford hesitation.

Not now.

I scanned the erratic, shifting streets below. “Stay focused,” I muttered, taking a steadying breath. Then, with a sharp flare of magic, I Shifted. In a blink, I dropped down from the rooftop, landing lightly on a patch of cobblestones before the path ahead warped, flipping impossibly beneath my feet.

I pushed forward, sprinting through the madness. The once-familiar streets of Canterlot had turned into a labyrinth of shifting stone, each step a gamble as the ground beneath me folded, twisted, and vanished in places. I dodged jagged rifts where reality itself seemed to tear away, leaping across impossible gaps as the castle loomed ever closer.

Up ahead, a section of the road abruptly collapsed into a floating patchwork of cobblestones, drifting lazily through the air like they were on invisible strings. I cursed under my breath but didn't slow down. With a flick of magic, I Shifted again, appearing just as the road behind me reversed its gravity, stones tumbling upward. I kept running, my heart pounding in sync with my footsteps.

Around me, chaos reigned. Ponies were transformed — cardboard cutouts stuck in place, frozen in their panicked expressions. Trees with candy-cane trunks sprouted from the ground, their leaves exploding into popcorn with every gust of wind. I forced my gaze ahead, ignoring the absurdity.

"Don't think about it. Keep moving." I muttered to myself, forcing my legs to keep pumping.

A flash of movement caught my eye. The road ahead had dissolved into a river — a literal river of chocolate milk, dotted with marshmallow rafts bobbing lazily along. Disgust twisted in my stomach. The only way across was to jump or swim. There was no way in hell I was swimming in that. I eyed the distance carefully, judged the gap, and then Shifted again, landing cleanly on the far side. A few ponies nearby were watching the chocolate river with wide eyes, looking like they were considering diving in. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus.

The castle loomed closer now, but the air had changed. Darker, thicker. The pink clouds swirled in violent, jagged spirals above, casting eerie shadows on the warped streets below. Buildings had sprouted wings, lazily flapping above the city like monstrous birds. And somewhere, off in the distance, I heard that same unsettling laughter — a reminder that Canterlot was under Discord’s control now.

I was getting closer to the castle now, and my heart pounded in my chest. Almost there. Just a little further. Luna, Aldin — hold on. I’m coming.

With one final burst of speed, I darted through the last stretch of the street. A cart beside me sprouted long, insect-like legs, skittering off as if it had somewhere urgent to be. The grand entrance of the castle stood in stark contrast to the madness around it, towering, untouched by the chaos — for now.

Another Shift brought me directly to the castle’s doors. The massive doors loomed ahead, untouched by the chaos gripping the rest of Canterlot — at least for now. The moment my feet hit the floor inside the castle, I bolted forward, sprinting down the long corridor, my boots echoing against the marble tiles beneath me.

The air was still, almost deathly quiet compared to the madness outside. The silence clung to the walls, suffocating. Discord’s influence was creeping closer — pink clouds thickened in the sky, spilling chocolate rain that stained everything it touched. Even the once-pristine castle wasn’t immune. I could feel the edges of reality starting to warp, bending under Discord's will.

How long before everything in Canterlot succumbed?

Focus.

Luna’s still in here. Aldin too — though the link between us had gone quiet, leaving me hollow. He’s just a chess piece now, a lifeless figurine. But I will get him back. I had to. The thought of that small, petrified form haunted me, burned into my mind.

And then there were the Elements. The last chance we had to restore order. They were still our best bet, our only shot at stopping Discord before everything fell apart.

I rounded the first corner, but the familiar hallways were subtly wrong — tilted, like the world had shifted just a few degrees off. The portraits along the walls watched me, eyes tracking my every move. One painting, depicting a long-dead noble, yawned lazily before popping off the wall, floating after me like a grotesque balloon. I ducked under a chandelier as it swayed down, dangling low enough for its crystal tendrils to graze my hair.

Ahead, the architecture twisted further, an impossible spiral staircase where a straight hallway should have been. Damn it, Discord. He wasn’t just letting his chaos run wild — he was playing with me. Trying to disorient, confuse, slow me down.

But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

With a glance at the new layout, I Shifted again, bypassing the warped stairs and reappearing at the far end of the corridor. The impact jarred my legs, but I pushed forward, ignoring the strain.

Four shifts left.

Then, at last, the vault doors finally came into view — massive, ancient, and radiating power. But even here, there was something wrong. The magic protecting the Elements felt thin, brittle, as though Discord’s influence had seeped into every crack.

I slowed my pace as I approached, my pulse quickening. Hopefully the Elements were still in there, weakened but — if I was lucky — still capable of turning the tide. My hand reached for the hilt of Promise as I neared the door, bracing for whatever might be waiting inside. I wasn’t sure what kind of state they would be in, but I had to believe they still held enough power to stop Discord.

I grabbed the door’s handle and swung it open with a rough jerk. Expecting Luna, Aldin, or perhaps the glow of the Elements.

Instead, I stepped into an open sky.

“Well, about time! Look who finally decided to show up!” Discord’s voice dripped with amusement, as though this were all just another part of some elaborate game. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about little ol’ me!”

I stood on the unstable surface of a pink cotton-candy cloud, the entire landscape beneath me twisted and surreal. Canterlot was a patchwork of chaos, and was barely recognizable. Buildings floated through the air like balloons, streets melted into rivers of molten chocolate, and ponies ran or danced about in confusion.

The sky above rippled like fabric caught in a storm, shimmering under Discord’s ever-expanding reach. Beyond that, I knew the chaos would only grow, infecting everything it touched like an insidious plague.

He was free, and that was on me.

My fists clenched, nails digging deep into my palms, the sharp sting grounding me as guilt gnawed at the edges of my mind. This mess? It was mine to own, no excuses. But dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything, not now. I had to focus. Luna. Aldin. The Elements. They were what mattered.

Only, they weren’t here.

I bit the inside of my cheek, utilizing the pain to sharpen my thoughts. If they weren’t here, then Discord likely had them stashed somewhere beyond my reach — probably. Considering the powerful chaos magic he wielded, and the fact that Luna, and most likely Celestia, had already fallen, brute force wasn’t an option.

As much as I’d love to introduce his head to a long-distance relationship with his neck, diplomacy and delay were my only cards left to play. How... unfortunate.

“So!” Discord’s sing-song voice yanked me back to the present. He lounged atop a swirling pink cloud, one leg casually draped over the other, a glass of chocolate milk materializing in his eagle claw with a snap. He sipped it like it was fine wine, then tossed the empty glass behind him. The liquid hung in the air before bursting into a shower of sugar cubes. “Care to explain how you managed to pull it off?”

“What are you talking about?” I forced the words out, struggling to keep my voice steady while irritation clawed at the edges of my patience. The last thing I needed was to let him dig deeper than he already had.

Discord chuckled, his eyes alight with that familiar, maddening mischief as they momentarily flicked down to Promise. He stretched out even further, his mismatched wings giving a halfhearted flap. “Oh, come now, Sebastian. Don’t insult me with that act. You know exactly what I mean. After all, it’s your fault I’m free again. Hmm… I wonder what Luna thinks of that?”

Don’t kill him. Don’t even try. Do it for them. He was trying to provoke me. He knew I was responsible for his newfound freedom, but how much did he really know?

“I didn’t do anything,” I spat, jaw tight. “You’re out because of your own chaos, nothing more.”

Discord clicked his tongue, floating closer, his serpentine body weaving through the air like a ribbon caught on the breeze. “Tsk, tsk. Such hostility. But isn’t it fascinating? After all these centuries, all it took was a spat between three little fillies and, poof!” He snapped his talons, the sound splitting the air. The cloud beside him warped into a checkered chessboard, each square rapidly shifting colors. “Here I am. Out and about, thanks to the weakened state of the Tree. And who, I wonder, was responsible for that?”

My jaw clenched, frustration curling tighter in my gut. I knew what he was getting at. The Tree of Harmony had been pushed to its limit trying to stop the nothingness that had come for me, and that left his prison vulnerable, cracked open like a fortress with its gates smashed. Discord had waltzed right through.

His grin stretched wider as he drifted nearer. “You really shouldn’t be so glum! You’ve done more for chaos in a night than I’ve managed in a thousand years! In fact…” He snapped his fingers, and with a gleeful flourish, conjured a giant gold trophy, engraved with the words ‘Best Chaos Assistant.’ He thrust it toward me with a mocking grin. “Congratulations! You’ve officially done more to disrupt harmony than I have in a millennium!”

I bit back the urge to draw Promise, my hand twitching at my side. It would be useless anyway. Discord wasn’t something I could fight head-on. Not like this. He’d just toy with me, warping reality to suit his twisted sense of humor.

“I’m not here to play your games,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady. “Where are they?”

“Who, now?” Discord tilted his head, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “You’ll need to be more specific, my dear boy.”

“Luna.” Her name escaped my lips before I could stop myself, but I couldn’t hold back. “Aldin. Celestia. The Elements. Where are they?”

Discord’s grin stretched impossibly wide, as if he found my frustration endlessly amusing. “Ah, finally! We’re getting to the juicy part of the game.” He leaned in closer, his mismatched eyes glinting with wicked delight. “I could tell you where they are… but where’s the fun in spoiling the surprise?”

I stepped forward, swallowing the tremor in my voice as I fought back the frustration rising like bile. “I don’t have time for your games.”

“Oh, but games are all we have time for now!” His voice was thick with mockery. With a snap of his fingers, a series of chess pieces materialized in the air, slowly rotating around him. Each figure was a perfect replica — Celestia, Luna, the Elements, even Aldin — captured in eerie stillness. The sight made my chest clench painfully.

“Your friends are all… preoccupied,” Discord continued, twirling the chess pieces in the air as if they were mere playthings. “The princesses? Safely stashed away. The Elements? Oh, I’ve sent their bearers on a delightful little scavenger hunt, looking for the Elements — they’ll never find them though. I made sure of it..” He flicked his wrist, sending the pieces scattering into the air like confetti. “And as for your little owl friend…” His claw hovered over Aldin’s figurine, making it spin lazily in midair. “He’s the newest addition to my game. Don’t you think he looks charming on the board?”

A surge of anger burned beneath my skin, but I forced it down. Losing control wouldn’t help. I needed a plan, some way to outmaneuver him. If I couldn’t fight Discord directly, I had to find another angle.

“You’ve already won,” I said, my voice steady. “You’ve got everything you want. Why keep playing this game?”

Discord lazily floated back to his cotton candy cloud, lounging with a theatrical sigh. “Ah, yes, it does look like I’ve won, doesn’t it?” His grin didn’t falter, but a spark of curiosity blazed in his eyes. “But chaos isn’t about winning. It’s about keeping things interesting. And you, Sebastian…” He pointed a claw at me, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve piqued my interest. Now, tell me — how did you manage to weaken the Tree of Harmony?”

I froze, the breath catching in my throat. He doesn’t know.

That was something. A small advantage maybe, but an advantage nonetheless. If Discord didn’t understand what had caused the Tree’s weakness, I could use that. I had no idea where the creature was now, but I could dangle that mystery in front of him.

“Why should I tell you anything?” I asked, keeping my voice cold and measured.

Discord’s grin faltered for a split second before returning full force. “Oh, I don’t know… because maybe you’d like your owl friend back? Or the princesses, perhaps? I could even be generous and return the Elements to their bearers.” He tapped a claw to his chin, as if thinking it over. “But only if you give me something interesting in return.”

I kept my expression neutral, though the weight of the decision pressed down hard on my shoulders. I couldn’t possibly trust him — Discord was the embodiment of chaos after all, and any deal with him would be riddled with traps. But right now, I didn’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll tell you what weakened the Tree of Harmony,” I said slowly, my voice calculated, “if you release Luna, Celestia, Aldin, and give the Elements to their bearers.”

His eyes sparkled, and he slithered closer, his body weaving through the air like a coiled spring ready to snap. The weight of his chaotic energy pressed against me, bending reality in subtle ways. I stayed calm, but a part of me knew this was dangerous ground that I was treading. Discord wouldn’t play fair.

“Such a tempting offer…” Discord crooned, his clawed finger tapping theatrically at his chin. “But tell me, Sebastian, do you really think I’m that gullible? You’re practically handing me everything I want.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see how much the situation grated on me. “If you already know everything, why bother asking?” I shot back. “You clearly want to know more.”

Discord’s eyes gleamed with manic energy, his body twisting in a slow, deliberate circle above me. “Ah, now that’s the spirit! Chaos, my dear boy, is all about surprises. And you’ve gone and thrown a delightful wrench into my plans. I’m positively thrilled.” He grinned, flashing a row of jagged teeth. “But surely, you knew that already.”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. The plan was simple — stall him. Twilight and her friends were out there, hopefully working toward a solution. If I could keep Discord distracted, just a little longer, maybe they could stop him.

Discord’s expression shifted, almost too fast to register. “Fine,” he said, snapping his fingers in mock agreement. “I’ll take your offer.”

My stomach churned. That had been easy, too easy. I felt as though I had already stepped into one of his traps. He floated just in front of me now, his grin stretching wider, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “But just so we’re clear, I’m dying to see what happens when your dear princesses and that charming owl are free.” He let out a low chuckle. “As for the Elements, well…” His voice darkened, each word laced with menace. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t count on them working as advertised.”

I squared my shoulders. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Oh, but it is, my dear boy.” His fingers snapped again, reality warping slightly as the world shimmered with chaos. “The Elements aren’t indestructible, you know. Chaos has this charming habit of breaking things.” His grin turned malicious. “I’d wager they’ll shatter the next time they’re used.”

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to remain composed. If the Elements of Harmony shattered, if they failed… then all of this would be for nothing. Equestria would be without its most fabled weapon. I couldn’t afford to think about that right now. I needed to stay focused.

A cold dread curled in my gut, but I held my ground. “What makes you so sure?” I asked. “You don’t even know what weakened the Tree of Harmony.”

Discord’s eyes sparkled with vicious delight. “And that’s precisely why I’m so eager for you to tell me, Sebastian.” He twisted around me, coiling through the air like smoke. “Why don’t you go ahead and enlighten me? I’m all ears.”

I fixed my gaze on him, my mind racing. All I could do was stall — buy more time for Twilight and the others. Each second I kept him talking could be what they needed to pull out a win. I remembered the moment when everything began to unravel. The creature — something darker than chaos — had come for me, breaking through the dream that Luna and I shared, driving us back to the Tree.

I recalled its approach vividly: how it swallowed light, tearing at the very fabric of the Dreamscape like an aberration, something that shouldn’t exist. The Tree of Harmony had reacted, but even its power couldn’t drive the thing away completely. It had fought back, but it only slowed the creature, weakening itself in the process.

“It wasn’t me,” I said carefully, weighing each word. “It was something else, something that came for me. It was… nothingness. A void. The Tree tried to stave it off, but in doing so, it weakened itself.”

Discord’s eyes narrowed, amusement slipping into something deeper — curiosity. For the first time, his grin faltered. I had his attention.

“A void?” he murmured, arching an eyebrow. His tone lost its mocking edge. “How dreadfully dull… but curious, indeed.”

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “It wasn’t like you, Discord. It wasn’t chaos. It was the absence of everything. It devoured, erased. The Tree fought it, but it couldn’t stop it, only delay it. That’s why the Elements are weaker now.”

Discord tapped a claw against his chin, eyes sharp with calculation. His mind was churning, though I couldn’t tell what conclusion he was drawing.

“And where is this void-creature now?” he asked, too casually.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. The last time I saw it, it had been hunting me, slow and deliberate. It could be anywhere now — or nowhere. “But it told me that the next time… I would come to it.”

Discord studied me for a long, calculating moment. Then, slowly, his grin crept back, wicked and gleeful.

“Well, that certainly complicates things, doesn’t it?” He floated backward, reclining in mid-air as though none of this mattered at all. “Still, I’m curious to see how this little game plays out.” He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the chess pieces representing Twilight and her friends appeared, encircling the Elements of Harmony. “I wonder if your precious little bearers can even use the Elements before they shatter. I’m betting they’ll break before.”

My teeth clenched, but I didn’t rise to the bait. “You won’t know unless you let them try.”

Discord's laughter bellowed through the air, its reverberations echoing through the air. "Ha! Looks like you're figuring out the rules already, Sebastian my boy! But don't worry, this is all part of the game. I want them to try. I’m counting on it!" He clapped his hands together, a burst of chaotic energy bursting from his fingertips. "In fact, I believe it's about time we paid them a little visit."

Before I could react, Discord snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the world around me snapped and warped.

The cotton candy clouds, the twisted version of Canterlot below — all of it disappeared in a flash of brownish light. When my vision cleared, I found myself standing in the middle of Ponyville.

Or at least, what was left of it.

The once-peaceful village was now a chaotic mess. Buildings floated upside down, enormous playing cards drifted like autumn leaves through the sky, and the ground beneath me shifted and pulsed as if it were alive. Ponies were scattered everywhere, some laughing uncontrollably, others running in circles, clearly lost in the madness.

Above me, Discord floated with a smug grin, his eyes gleaming as he surveyed his masterpiece. “Ah, Ponyville!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms out in mock celebration. “Isn’t it just glorious?”

I barely heard him. My attention was fixed on the pandemonium around me. The very air shimmered with madness, buildings swayed as if made of paper, and the ground pulsed under my feet, threatening to swallow me whole. Ponies' frantic cries filled the air, their fear and laughter blending into one unsettling chorus. I clenched my fists, desperately trying to think — trying to find a way out. But Discord’s presence was everywhere, suffocating, warping reality around me, leaving me trapped in his game.

“And now,” Discord continued, lounging as if without a care in the world, “we’re just waiting for the main event! I do hope they don’t take too long. I’d hate to miss the grand finale.”

With a snap of his fingers, a stained glass window materialized beside him, floating in the air. I froze, my heart sinking as I saw who was trapped within. Celestia and Luna, their forms rendered in vibrant glass, were imprisoned like art in a grotesque display. Their eyes moved — pleading, desperate — but they were silent, unable to break free from their glassy prison.

“Isn’t it just wonderful?” Discord said, gesturing to the window as if showing off a prized possession. “I thought it’d be more fun if our dear princesses could witness the end of their precious Age of Harmony. Don’t you agree?”

A sharp pain hit my chest, and I stepped forward, instinctively reaching for them, but Discord’s gaze snapped to me, his grin widening.

“Ah ah ah!” He waggled a talon at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t get too close, Sebastian. Broken glass is such a hassle to clean up.”

I froze, realizing the trap he had laid. Luna and Celestia were beyond my reach. Even Aldin — our bond still empty, an aching void where he should have been — was gone. Discord had stripped everything from me, and now, he was reveling in his victory.

Then, with another snap, a stone chess piece appeared beside him. It was Aldin, or what remained of him — small, lifeless, perched on a floating platform next to the stained glass window. My throat tightened. He was just another pawn in Discord’s twisted game.

“Never say I don’t keep my deals, Sebastian,” Discord said cheerfully, turning back to me. “I’ve returned Celestia, Luna, and your little owl friend, just as I said I would. Now, we sit back and watch the show. The death of the Age of Harmony! And after that…” He trailed off, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. “Hmm, what should we call the next age? The Age of Bedlam? No, too tame. The Era of Pandemonium? Hmm… Oh! The Epoch of Exuberant Anarchy!”

My heart pounded as I glared at him, desperation flooding my mind. Twilight and her friends — they were the only hope left now. They had the Elements. They had to succeed.

“Or maybe,” Discord continued, oblivious to the growing tension, “we’ll call it the Discordant Dynasty! Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Before I could react, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. I whipped my head around, and saw Twilight and her friends making their way toward us. They moved carefully through the warped landscape, their faces hard with resolve despite the madness swirling around them.

“There they are!” Discord exclaimed, clapping his hands together with glee. “Right on cue!”

Twilight’s gaze met mine, and I saw the unspoken question in her eyes — her worry, her hope. I felt the tension rise inside me. I had to warn them. They couldn’t just use the Elements without knowing what Discord had set in motion. If they did, they could shatter them — ruining everything. I opened my mouth to shout, to warn them.

But nothing came out.

Confusion swept over me as I reached for my face, fingers tracing smooth skin where my mouth should have been. My voice — it was gone, snuffed out in an instant. The realization hit like a brick to the gut. Discord had silenced me.

“Oh, what a horrible predicament,” Discord cooed, his voice thick with false pity. He floated leisurely above, eyes twinkling with cruel amusement. “It seems our dear Sebastian’s got nothing to say! What a shame…”

I gestured frantically toward Twilight, my chest tightening as I gestured wildly to Twilight and the others, desperate for them to understand. But Discord’s laughter echoed in the air like thunder, drowning out my silent pleas. He watched me struggle, his grin widening in satisfaction, reveling in my vain attempts to warn them. Every second was torture — my body betraying me, my voice erased.

Twilight squinted, confused by my frantic motions. She couldn’t understand. None of them could. And Discord was playing his game to perfection.

"Now, now," Discord said, crossing his arms behind his head and reclining as if on an invisible couch. "Let’s not spoil the fun, shall we? This is going to be quite the show."

My pulse raced as I glanced toward Twilight and her friends. The Elements of Harmony were already beginning to glow, faint light flickering around them like the first spark of a storm. They had no idea — none of them did — about Discord’s plan, about the risks. I tried again to speak, to warn them, but all I felt was the unnatural smoothness where my mouth should have been.

The six of them floated, suspended in the air, the power of the Elements coiling and weaving through the air. It built up like a gathering tempest, humming with energy. Discord’s grin widened as he lounged in mid-air, completely unfazed.

"Oh, Sebastian, look at them go!" he crowed mockingly, waving a talon in fake applause. "The little ponies think they’ve won! How delightfully naïve!"

Twilight and her friends, oblivious to Discord’s plan, gathered together, the Elements of Harmony beginning to glow with their usual brilliance. The ground beneath them shimmered, and the air felt charged, alive with the raw harmonic magic of the Elements. I could feel the shift, the powerful essence of harmony that coursed through those ancient artifacts. The very same feeling that the Tree of Harmony gave off when it attempted to strike down the void. Despite Discord’s taunts, a defiant hope blossomed within me. If they could just channel the Elements, if they could just succeed — this nightmare could end.

But Discord’s smug grin stayed plastered on his face. He wasn’t worried; he was toying with them, and that pit in my stomach found a way to deepen.

Then, in a brilliant flash, the Elements activated. The rainbow light shot up, swirling together before hurtling toward Discord. For the briefest moment, his smirk faltered. His eyes widened — barely noticeable, but enough.

The rainbow struck him dead-on.

"No!" Discord screamed, his lazy façade broke as he flailed. His chaotic magic surged in response, warping reality in a desperate attempt to fight back. But it was futile. His body began to stiffen, petrifying, inch by inch, starting at his feet. His expression twisted from disbelief to pure panic as the stone crawled up his mismatched limbs. He struggled, his eyes wild with shock, but it was too late.

The spirit of chaos’ short-lived reign was crumbling.

In an instant, the draconequus was encased in stone once more, his chaotic reign snuffed out as though it had never been. His final expression — a twisted mix of shock and frustration — was frozen in place, forever etched into the cold stone that swallowed him whole.

The chaos around us began to unravel. The pink clouds above evaporated, the unnatural twisting of Ponyville’s buildings faded, and the warped, surreal landscape began to return to its original state. Piece by piece, Discord’s magic was undone, swept away by the overwhelming force of the Elements of Harmony.

The stillness that followed was almost eerie, a sharp contrast to the chaotic storm that had just raged. Then, softly, through our link, I felt a familiar warmth — Aldin. His emotions trickled through: confusion, exhaustion, but most of all, relief.

He was free.

With a sudden pop, my mouth reappeared, the magic sealing my voice broken as Discord’s power faded. I took a deep breath, finally able to speak, though the words caught in my throat. Aldin was safe. And now, Luna and Celestia would be too.

A rush of wings and the familiar soft whoosh of air was all the warning I had before Aldin barreled into my chest, his talons gripping me tightly, his wings wrapping around me in an almost desperate hug. He was here, and in that brief moment, I felt his reassurance, his stubborn loyalty.

"I’m sorry," I whispered under my breath, knowing Aldin could feel the storm of guilt swirling within me.

His response came through a series of sharp hoots, only understandable to me. “Sorry? What for?” His tone was sharp, but the undercurrent of concern was unmistakable. He leaned back, fixing me with those piercing eyes. “You saved me, you saved Celestia and Luna. That's what matters right now. Get your head out your ass, Seb.”

I turned to the stained glass window just as it flickered and shattered, the magic trapping Luna and Celestia breaking apart like fragile crystals. The sisters emerged, their forms solid once more. Luna’s gaze found mine, her eyes filled with emotions that didn’t need to be spoken. We shared a moment — a breath — of understanding. Love, relief, and exhaustion washed between us.

But before we could even begin to celebrate, a sharp, cracking sound sliced through the silence.

My heart lurched as I spun to see the Elements of Harmony — once shining with harmonic power, now fragile — fracturing. Thin, jagged cracks spiderwebbed across the gemstones, their vibrant glow flickering and dying. The bearers stood in frozen shock, unable to stop what was happening. One by one, the Elements shattered into fine dust, falling apart and scattering to the wind.

I cast one last glance at Discord’s petrified form, at the shock and frustration etched into his stone features. He had been so confident, so sure of his plan. He might be trapped, but the next time he breaks free there will be no Elements of Harmony to stop him.

Discord was right.

The Age of Harmony had died.

Hypocrite

The steady glow of my Light cantrip illuminated the cluttered surface of my workstation, casting steady shadows on the walls of my room. Tools were scattered haphazardly — enchantment reagents, arcane etchings, raw materials — all mixed into form a chaotic testament to the week I had spent drowning in work.

A little over a week. Nine whole days and nights since the Elements of Harmony shattered, and the guilt still clung to me. I had thrown myself into my craft, working through exhaustion — no breaks, no rest — sustained by the Keep Watch spell, forsaking sleep in favor of productivity.

My fingers traced the Belt of Physical Perfection. Its surface gleamed with the newly etched runes, pulsating faintly with the power I'd embedded. The belt’s transmutational properties had reached new heights. I adjusted the Teashades of Night on my face, their cool metal pressing against my temples as they banished the room’s dimness, every detail brought into sharp grayscale.

Next, my hand moved to the Laurel of Vast Intelligence. The delicate wreath had been a challenging project. Hours upon hours had gone into fortifying the Fox’s Cunning spell that was woven into the silver leaves, and permanently imbuing said leaves with the Resistance cantrip. As I set it on my scalp, I felt its subtle thrum, the arcane energy coursing through it, offering a sense of strength I so desperately needed.

It was done. All three items — completed, improved. But as I leaned back in my chair, the satisfaction of progress did little to dispel the weight of my failures. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

A heavy sigh escaped me. My body remained upright, but mentally I was on the edge. The Keep Watch spell had kept my body going, but it couldn’t alleviate the mental strain. I had only kept my promise to Luna twice, allowing myself rest, but even that had felt like indulgence. Despite the world's apparent normalcy, everything around me felt heavier.

The burden. The blame. The guilt.

All of it was rightfully mine to bear. My very existence had drawn the nothingness to the Dreamscape, resulting in the draining of the Tree of Harmony, weakening it. While I didn’t know the full scope of the events unfolding, I had always assumed the show would end on a happy note — a happy ending that no longer seemed possible. Discord’s return wasn’t supposed to happen like this. That was on me. And now, the Elements of Harmony lay in ruins. The world might appear unchanged, but I knew better. I could feel the subtle shift beneath the surface. If my fragmented knowledge of the show was right, the Elements were critical to everything.

And I had royally screwed it up.

A dull ache flared at the base of my skull, but I shoved it aside. There was still more to be done.

I reached for my spellbook, pulling it toward me and flipping to an empty page. My next task was clear: I needed the Teleport spell. I hadn’t been able to get to Luna or Aldin nearly fast enough when Discord struck. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

My hand moved toward my spellbook. I needed Teleport. If I had mastered it before, I could have reached Luna and Aldin faster. The quill trembled slightly as I began etching the runes. I’d studied enough to understand the foundations, but the intricacies of manipulating space were perilous. A misstep could have dire consequences — wrong destinations or self-harm.

I didn’t hear Aldin at first, just a faint pulse of concern tinged with frustration through our link. He hadn’t said much of anything all week, but I could feel his patience thinning. Then, a sharp sound — something between a growl and a chirp — cut through the quiet.

"Seb," Aldin's voice was clearer now, almost insistent, but I didn’t look up. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

I paused, feeling the exhaustion I'd been ignoring for days. But there was too much left to do. I couldn't stop. Not yet.

"I'm fine," I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the spellbook, though even I knew the words rang hollow.

Aldin moved closer, frustration bleeding into our link. "No, you're not," he snapped. "You've been at this for days. You’ll burn yourself out."

I gripped the quill tighter, pushing down the guilt that gnawed at the edges of my thoughts. There was still too much to fix.

"You promised Luna you’d rest." His voice grew sharper, more pointed. “This isn’t just about you anymore.”

My grip tightened, knuckles white as I forced myself to focus. I couldn’t afford to rest. Not when things could fall apart again.

Aldin huffed, the sound sharp in the still room. "Fine. I’ll go get her. Maybe she can talk sense into you."

I barely registered his departure, too caught up in the precise lines of magic I was inscribing. There was no room for anything else — no guilt, no rest. Only the work.

Still, my thoughts drifted unwillingly to Luna. We hadn’t seen much of each other lately. A glance here, a quiet word there, before she was pulled away again. I knew she was worried. But nothing she said would change what I had to do. This was my fault, this was my responsibility to fix.

I pressed the quill harder, the lines of the spell growing bolder as the nib scraped against the parchment. Teleport, almost complete.

I should have stopped, but each moment not spent working felt like a wasted opportunity. I had to be ready for whatever came next.

The final symbol was drawn, the spell ready for use. I leaned back, the brief triumph of completion dulled by exhaustion. My body ached, my mind numb. But at least it was done. Another tool, another way to be prepared.

The room felt heavier as I closed the spellbook, rubbing my temples. Luna would be here soon, I could practically feel her approach, and Aldin... well, his judgment lingered in the air like a storm waiting to break.

The quill slipped from my fingers, falling to the desk. The stress of the last few days settled over me, but still, I couldn’t shake the need to keep going. To be ready for whatever disaster came next.

The familiar hum of magic filled the air, and a soft pop signaled Luna's arrival. She appeared in a swirl of indigo light, her starry mane flowing in the stillness of the room. For a moment, she said nothing, just met my gaze with those cyan eyes, concern etched in their depths. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the scattered papers and enchanted items.

"Luna, I —"

Before I could finish, her horn glowed, and her magic enveloped me. In an instant, the room vanished, replaced by the bright expanse of her balcony high above Canterlot. Sunlight struck me, forcing my eyes to squint as I adjusted.

"Sebastian," Luna's voice was steady but firm as she stood beside me, wings unfurling slightly in the breeze. "You need to stop."

I looked out over the city below. Canterlot was still healing from the chaos Discord’s brief reign had sown. Scaffolding clung to several buildings, and I could see ponies busily working to restore what had been broken. From up here, it almost looked normal — almost. But I knew how close everything had come to permanently unraveling.

"I can’t," I muttered, eyes tracking the distant movements below. "There’s too much to do. Too much to fix."

Luna stepped closer, her wing brushing against me in a gentle, reassuring touch. She hadn’t spoken yet, but her presence alone was enough. It always was, even if I refused to admit it to myself.

"You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, Sebastian," she said, her voice gentle, though her words pressed on me with the undeniable weight of truth. "Day and night, without pause. When was the last time you truly rested?"

"I don’t need rest." The reply came out sharper than I intended, but Luna didn’t flinch. "The Keep Watch spell is enough. I’m fine."

"Fine?" She raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing in a way that made me feel exposed. "You’ve barely spoken to anyone in days. You’ve shut yourself away, buried in your spells and items. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how drained you’ve become."

I turned away, fists tightening as I stared at the distant horizon. "I have to be ready, Luna. If I had been more prepared… maybe the Elements wouldn’t have shattered. Maybe Discord—"

"You cannot carry this burden alone," Luna interrupted, her voice firm yet understanding. "You once told me, 'No one is an island.' Remember? Now you’re doing exactly what you warned me against."

Hypocrite. I despised hypocrisy in others, and here I was, guilty of it myself.

Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. I remembered when I said that to her, trying to ease her loneliness. Now, she was reflecting it back at me.

"It’s not the same," I muttered, shaking my head. "This is my fault. The Tree of Harmony, the Elements… all of it. If I don’t fix it, who will?"

"You are not alone, Seb," Luna said softly, stepping closer, her voice gentler now. "You never have been."

Her wing brushed my arm again, the coolness of her feathers contrasting nicely against the warmth of the sun. I kept my eyes forward, resisting the pull to meet hers, knowing the concern there would only deepen my guilt.

"You’ve done enough," she continued, her tone insistent but kind. "The Elements are gone, yes, but Equestria still stands. Discord is contained. We will rebuild. But you can’t tear yourself apart trying to fix everything on your own."

I swallowed hard, feeling the knot of tension in my shoulders pull tighter. She was right, but admitting it felt like surrender. I couldn’t let go of the need to keep working, to somehow make up for what I’d done.

"I know it’s hard," Luna said, as if sensing my internal struggle. "But if you keep pushing yourself like this, you’ll burn out. What use will you be then?"

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. When I finally met her gaze, her eyes held quiet strength and unwavering resolve. She wasn’t going to let this slide.

"Luna… I don’t know how to stop," I admitted, the words coming out far quieter than I intended.

She smiled — a soft, comforting smile that lifted some of the weight off my chest. "Then let me help you."

Before I could answer, her horn glowed with soft, ethereal light. The gentle tug of her magic loosened the hold of the Keep Watch spell. In an instant, the exhaustion I’d been holding at bay crashed down on me. My body, propped up by sheer will and magic for days, finally gave in, the weight of fatigue overwhelming.

I swayed on my feet, the fatigue hitting harder than I expected. But Luna was there, her wing steady against my side, offering a warmth I didn’t realize I had been craving. I leaned into her, feeling the softness of her feathers, and let the cool evening breeze brush against us from her balcony.

"You’ve been driving yourself too hard," she said, her voice gentle yet teasing. "While your dedication is admirable, I’d rather not have my apprentice collapse from exhaustion. I need you in one piece."

I exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension drain away, though a part of me still wanted to argue. "But there’s still so much to do, Luna. I can’t just stop."

"Shh." She silenced me with a gentle press of her wingtip against my lips. "What you need right now is rest. You’ve earned it."

I started to protest, but her gaze met mine, and there was something in her eyes — a blend of amusement and concern that cut through my defenses. I sighed, feeling my resistance weaken.

"And besides," she added with a sly grin, "I need you well-rested. How else can we get back to our... unfinished business if you’re too exhausted to think straight?"

Her words took a moment to sink in, my mind too sluggish from exhaustion. But when they did, my heart gave a weak flutter. Her teasing carried an unmistakable edge, one that made the weariness feel less important, if only for a second.

She chuckled, noticing my reaction, and nuzzled my neck. “Do you remember the cottage?” she asked, her voice soft and laced with promise. “Before we were... rudely interrupted?”

I swallowed, the memory surfacing vividly. We had been so close, the intensity between us undeniable. A moment we had both longed for, shattered by the chaos that followed.

"Yeah, I remember," I murmured, leaning into her touch despite the exhaustion weighing me down. "I guess I’ll need to be at my best for that."

"Indeed," Luna’s tone shifted to playful, her smirk returning. "I need you at full strength so we can continue where we left off." She flashed a grin, one that stirred something inside me despite my fatigue. "No more interruptions, but first things first — you’re going to be my body pillow for the day."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Your body pillow?"

"Yes," she replied with mock seriousness, her wings fluttering as she straightened up regally. "My sister recently told me about this fascinating new invention. But I’ve decided you’re far superior to any pillow. You’re warmer, more comfortable, and, of course, much more pleasant to hold."

I let out a tired laugh, shaking my head at her antics. "So, your grand plan is to make me your personal pillow all day?"

"Exactly," Luna said, her smile softening as she nuzzled closer. "And the bedchambers have been quite drafty lately. You wouldn’t want me to freeze, would you?"

It was such an obvious excuse, but it worked — like it always did. Her warmth, her nearness, made the idea of just letting go and resting all the more tempting.

"You’re impossible," I murmured, though my voice softened with affection. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She hummed in contentment, her wing folding securely around me.

"I’m also right," she added, lifting her head to meet my gaze. "You need this, Seb. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. Not for me, not for anyone. Rest, so you can be ready for whatever comes next."

I let out a long breath, her words sinking in. She was right — she always was. But admitting it, letting myself stop, felt like I was failing, like I wasn’t doing enough to atone for the mistakes I had made.

Yet standing here with her, feeling her warmth, her support… I realized how much I had been missing this. Missing her.

"Alright," I relented, my voice soft. "You win. But only because I wouldn’t want you to freeze in your drafty-ass chambers."

Luna’s laughter rang out, a melodious sound that seemed to lift the weight from the air. "Oh, my stubborn apprentice," she teased, her voice filled with warmth as she gently tugged me closer. "I always do. Now come, my bed awaits, and I am in need of my body-pillow."

Her soft chuckle at her own joke was infectious, and despite my weariness, I found myself smiling. We stepped back into her chambers, leaving behind the cool breeze of the balcony for the welcoming warmth of her room. The dark curtains were drawn, leaving only a few streaks of daylight peeking through. The bed at the room’s center seemed more inviting than ever, and I could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at me.

She nudged me toward the bed with a playful grin. “You’ll find I’m quite discerning when it comes to my pillows.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a faint smile as I kicked off my boots and let myself sink into the bed’s luxurious softness. Luna followed swiftly, her slender form curling against mine, her hooves resting lightly on my chest as her wings draped over us like a protective cocoon.

A long sigh escaped me as I sank deeper into the mattress, the warmth of her presence easing away the tension that had gripped me for days. Luna nestled under my chin, her ethereal mane brushing softly against my neck as she burrowed closer.

"You’re far superior to any body-pillow," she whispered, her tone still light but laced with affection that made my chest tighten.

I let out a quiet laugh, feeling the last traces of resistance slip away as my eyelids grew heavier. "I’ll take that as high praise."

"You should," she murmured, her voice fading into a sleepy hush. "Now rest, Sebastian. Sleep the day away with me."

And for the first time in days, I let go.

Silver

The throne room was a different place now. The once-empty space, which I’d grown used to during those long, quiet nights at Luna’s side, was filled with murmurs of conversation and the soft shuffle of hooves. The sound was nearly deafening in comparison to the silence of Night Court’s past. Ever since Discord's brief reign, Night Court had seen an influx of petitioners — ponies of all classes, seeking guidance, comfort, or answers from Luna. The chaos had shaken their faith in the Day Court, and while things were settling, uncertainty lingered like a shadow over Equestria.

Luna was in her element, though. I could see it in the way her eyes lit up with every new petitioner that stepped forward, the pride she felt in being able to help. She’d always longed for this, to be seen as more than just the ruler of the night, to be valued by her subjects. Now, it seemed, they finally understood what she could offer. It was a slow process, but the number of ponies coming to her had steadily grown since Discord’s return to statue-status.

I’m just glad Aldin and Luna pulled me out of my room. The guilt still lingered, but I would be remiss if I missed out on Night Court’s growth due to my own shortcomings.

I stood off to the side, leaning against one of the stone pillars that lined the throne room, Aldin perched on my shoulder, his feathers slightly ruffled from boredom. He’d been complaining in our shared language for most of the evening.

“Seb, I’m going to fall asleep on your shoulder if this keeps up,” Aldin muttered in a low voice only I could understand. His beak clacked softly, a sign of his growing impatience. “Can’t you entertain me somehow? Maybe cause a little trouble?”

“Not now, best-buddy,” I whispered back, keeping my voice low so as not to interrupt the current petitioner. “You know I can’t distract her while she’s working.”

Aldin let out a long, overly dramatic sigh, flapping his wings briefly before settling back down. “You could at least make it a little more fun. You used to cast illusions to keep her entertained during this boring court stuff. You should do that again! Or, at least try that poor excuse for flirting.”

“Hey! My flirting is not that bad!” I said, glancing toward the throne where Luna sat. She was deep in conversation with a mare who seemed to be asking for advice on how to protect her crops in case of future magical disturbances. Luna’s wisdom shone through with every word, and I couldn’t help but admire the way she handled each petitioner with care. “Besides, things are different now.”

“Different, sure,” Aldin grumbled. “But you’re still you. Maybe she misses the flirting.”

I huffed out a quiet breath, more amused than anything. "I think she's got more important things to focus on right now than my ‘poor’ flirting. Besides, I’m still here, supporting her."

The truth was, I did miss those quiet nights when it was just the two of us in the then empty throne room. I missed being able to lean in close, to whisper something teasing or affectionate, and to see her smile in response. But things had changed. Ponies were coming to her now, and I didn’t want to be the one to distract her from her duties. She needed this — she deserved it.

Still, Aldin wasn’t wrong. A part of me yearned for those simpler nights when everything wasn’t overshadowed by guilt, duty, and the damage that had been done. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all my fault. Discord breaking free, the shattering of the Elements… it all traced back to the nothingness that had invaded our dreams seeking me out. I should have done more, been better prepared.

The guilt persisted, even now.

Luna glanced over at me, her eyes softening for a moment as they met mine. She could read me like a book, and I knew she could see the guilt still hanging on my shoulders. But she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she turned back to the mare and continued speaking, her voice gentle and reassuring.

Aldin shifted on my shoulder again, clearly still restless. “This is agony! How long is this going to last?”

“Patience, best-buddy,” I muttered, although I understood his frustration. The court had been going on for hours, and the steady stream of ponies didn’t show signs of slowing. I glanced toward the doors, where more petitioners awaited their turn, shifting anxiously as they eyed the clock on the far wall.

Eventually, the mare thanked Luna and stepped away, bowing low as she left the throne room. Another petitioner quickly took her place, a stallion in a nicely tailored suit who had concerns about security in the city. I tuned out most of the conversation, not because I didn’t care, but because Luna had everything under control. She didn’t need me to step in.

Aldin, on the other hand, was reaching the end of his patience. “If this next one doesn’t do something interesting, I swear I’m going to start napping.”

“Then nap,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He grumbled something incoherent but eventually settled, his talons loosening their grip on my shoulder as he started to doze off. I felt a faint trickle of contentment through our link as he drifted into sleep, leaving me to focus on the court once more.

Eventually, the last petitioner approached Luna, and began to state their business, her shoulders seemed to relax a little. The night was winding down, and most of the ponies had been tended to. She looked over at me again, her expression soft but tired. I gave her a small nod, knowing she’d done well tonight. She always did.

Luna’s expression softened briefly, her tired eyes meeting mine. Though fatigue lingered in her gaze, there was something else — satisfaction. Despite the long hours, she was content. This was what she had longed for: her court finally had petitioners. I could see it in the way she carried herself, the quiet pride in how she listened to each petitioner with such attentiveness. The night was hers once more, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

Still, a greedy part of me longed for just one more moment alone with her, away from the burdens of court and crown. A quiet night where it was just us — no titles, no duties, no weight of Equestria on her shoulders.

But that would have to wait.

The petitioner offered their thanks and departed. I exhaled softly; Night Court was finally drawing to a close. It had been long, longer than any session I had attended, and I could tell Luna was ready to call it as well. She shifted slightly on her throne, preparing to stand.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement.

A lone figure, cloaked and silent, emerged from the shadows at the back of the throne room. I hadn’t seen them before — perhaps they had been waiting for the others to leave.

The figure moved with unnerving silence, each armored hoofstep echoing faintly in the vast, now-empty chamber. There was a shift in the air, a tension that crept through the room as this final petitioner approached. Something about them was different. My body tensed, and I narrowed my eyes, watching their deliberate advance toward the throne.

Their movements were careful, precise. The cloak concealed most of their form, but as they drew closer, faint flashes of silver caught the light from beneath the fabric — armor, aged and eerily familiar. My heart raced. Silver armor, forged in a style long forgotten, one I had only ever read about in ancient texts from the castle library.

The ancient armor of the Lunar Guard.

Luna remained still on her throne, but the moment the figure stepped fully into her view, her body went rigid. I glanced at her, noticing the shift in her posture. The weariness that had softened her features was long gone, replaced by something far more unsettling — tension, maybe even a trace of fear.

The petitioner reached the center of the hall and halted. With a slow, almost ritualistic motion, she lifted her head, and the hood slipped back, revealing her face. A thestral mare, her coat the color of storm-touched skies, with slit-pupiled eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Her mane, dark and sleek, framed her sharp features, lending her an air of stoic determination. Her leathery wings remained concealed beneath the cloak, but there was no mistaking her nature.

A bat pony — a thestral.

It had been centuries since a thestral had been seen in public, their kind long since vanished into myth, entwined with Luna’s darkest chapter of life. Yet here, at the closing of Night Court, one now stood before us, clad in armor from a forgotten age.

"Princess Luna," the mare began, her voice steady but laden with meaning. "I come as the chosen representative of the thestrals of Hollow Shades."

Luna's eyes widened. The shift in the room was palpable. Her wings pressed tightly against her sides, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure she would speak. The thestrals were a topic she had always avoided, even with me. Their existence was bound to her most painful memories — a war that most had allowed to fade into history, but I knew it was still fresh in her mind. They were the ones who had followed her, sworn allegiance to the moon and to her, even as she fell into madness.

The mare’s gaze remained fixed, unwavering. “For many years, long before your return, we have debated. Some feared you were still the Nightmare, that your return would only bring ruin.” She paused, emotion flickering briefly in her eyes before her stoic mask reasserted itself. “But others believed in your redemption, in the return of our true Princess. And now, with the Elements of Harmony broken, we have chosen to return.”

Luna said nothing, but there was a storm of emotions behind her eyes. It was as if the weight of her past had suddenly descended, heavier than ever. Though she rarely spoke of it, I knew the depth of her guilt — the lives lost in the war, those who had pledged loyalty to her and had been left behind when she was banished.

The mare stepped forward, revealing more of the ancient Lunar Guard armor from beneath her cloak. "My name is Captain Noctra. On behalf of Hollow Shades and our kin, I ask that we be allowed to return to our rightful place. To serve you once again, as we did before."

Her words hung in the air, a plea forged with centuries of history — loyalty, betrayal, and the hope of reconciliation.

Luna lowered her gaze, her expression unreadable. I could only guess at the turmoil she was experiencing. This was the moment she had avoided, the part of her past she had been running from since her return. Now, that past stood before her, embodied in a mare wearing the armor of a time long gone — a living reminder of everything she had lost, and of the role she had played in it.

I stood silently nearby, my hands clasped behind my back, close enough to offer her support, but far enough to give her the space she needed. This was her court, her past, her ponies. Although I kept my distance, I hoped she could sense my resolve — she didn’t have to face this alone.

Luna’s eyes shimmered, though her expression remained composed. The heavy weight of her guilt hung between them, unspoken but there all the same. This decision could not be taken lightly. To welcome the thestrals back into the service of the crown would mean confronting her darkest memories — the violence, the madness, the countless lives destroyed by her fall. Yet it was also a chance for her to begin mending the wounds of the past, to rebuild the trust and loyalty that had been lost so long ago.

The irony wasn’t lost to me. I had been the one who caused the breaking of the Elements, and now, perhaps, I was inadvertently helping to spark the start of this restoration.

Fate has a sense of humor it seems.

A deep stillness enveloped the hall as Luna closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath. When she opened them again, her voice was softer. “If I accept you, if I accept your kin… it will not be as the Princess of old. It will not be as the Nightmare. I am not that creature anymore.”

Noctra dipped her head slightly. “We know, Princess. That’s why we ask to serve you — not as we did at the end, but under your true name. Under the moon, and under the Luna we see before us.”

Luna’s posture relaxed, the tension slowly easing from her. For a long, silent moment, she studied Noctra’s eyes, searching for the truth in her words. Finally, she spoke.

“Then… I accept. You and your kin may return to serve me if that is truly your wish. But know this: it will be under a moon of peace, not the shadow of war. That is my one condition.”

Noctra bowed deeply, her wings spreading slightly as she lowered her head in respect. “We are at your command, Princess Luna. We will serve you as we once did — loyal, to the end.”

Luna gave a small nod, though behind her calm façade I could see the storm of emotions swirling — relief, sorrow, and perhaps a glimmer of hope. This was not a simple victory for her, but it was a step toward healing. Toward making peace with the pieces of her past she had feared to face.

As Noctra turned to leave, Luna’s gaze shifted to me, softening as our eyes met. I offered a quiet smile and nod, my chest swelling with pride. She had faced her past tonight and chosen to move forward. I knew this wasn’t the end of her struggle — far from it — but it was the beginning of something new.

Discord had been right. A new age was coming.

Golden

The early morning air was cool and fresh as I stood in the sparring grounds, the soft light of dawn creeping over the horizon. The sun had just begun to rise, sending pale rays spilling across the castle walls, casting long shadows that stretched across the grounds. Luna stood nearby, her gaze fixed on me with that familiar blend of curiosity and affection. She’d been eager to see my progress with magic, so much so that she insisted on a morning demonstration.

Fortunately, I had something special in mind for just this sort of occasion.

Aldin stood perched on a wooden post nearby, his feathers ruffling slightly in the cool breeze as watched over the proceedings. He'd been oddly quiet as of late, but I could feel his excitement mirroring my own through our shared link.

“Sebastian,” Luna’s voice carried over to me, regal yet teasing. “Show me what you’ve been working on. I expect great things from my dear apprentice.”

I grinned at her, feeling that familiar warmth that her playful confidence always brought me. She had no idea what I was about to reveal, and I wanted to savor that sweet moment of her surprise. I’d been practicing this for weeks now, in between crafting, sleep, and Luna’s ever growing Night Court, I had been fine-tuning my control over unicorn magic until I could manage telekinesis on small objects with ease. My goal was to surprise her, and if I was lucky, maybe even impress her.

“Alright,” I said, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. “Let me show you something… a bit different.”

Her eyes gleamed with interest as I raised my right hand, palm open toward the pony-shaped target dummy a few dozen feet away. Usually, I would have prepared a new arcane spell of some sort as a demonstration of my ever expanding mastery, but this was to be different.

This was unicorn magic.

I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing on the familiar tug at my core as I had done in my secret practice. My aura flared to life around my hand, the hazel-colored glow shimmering softly. The golden center pulsed briefly, surrounded by a deep green hue.

A quiet gasp escaped Luna, and when I opened my eyes, I saw her staring at my hand, her expression a mix of surprise and awe.

“Sebastian… what—” she started, but I didn’t let her finish.

With a small flick of my wrist, the target dummy lifted into the air, weightless as if it were made of feathers. My aura had wrapped around it, a soft glow that matched the one around my hand. The dummy hovered for a moment before I spun it around, tossing it lightly from side to side as a child would with a toy.

Luna’s mouth parted slightly, her wings twitching at her sides as she watched on. I could tell she was speechless, but the pride in her eyes was unmistakable. That alone made all of the exhausting practice worth it.

“You… can use unicorn magic?” she asked, her voice breathy with disbelief.

Aldin, sensing the moment was perfect, chimed in from his perch. “Well, it's about time you showed her! I was getting tired of all that secrecy.”

“Patience, best-buddy,” I muttered with a grin, feeling the strain of the telekinesis starting to creep in. Despite how much I had practiced, lifting and manipulating objects still took a toll on me after a while.

“I’ve been practicing,” I admitted, focusing on keeping the dummy steady in the air. “It’s not easy, but I thought I’d give it a shot. Wanted to surprise you.”

Luna took a step closer, her eyes locked on the floating dummy. “You certainly have, my love,” she said softly. “I never imagined you could… Is this why you’ve been so secretive as of late?”

“Partly,” I nodded, sweat beginning to bead on my forehead. “I wanted it to be a surprise. It’s exhausting, though. Unicorn magic doesn’t exactly handle well for humans.”

She smiled, and there was something tender and sweet in that smile — something that never failed to make my heart race just a bit faster. “You never cease to amaze me, Sebastian.”

I let the dummy hover for a few more seconds before gently lowering it back to the ground, releasing the spell. The glow around my hand faded, and I flexed my fingers to shake off the lingering fatigue.

Aldin ruffled his feathers again, this time with more approval. “Not bad, Seb. You might actually be worth sticking around for.”

“Wow,” I replied, rolling my eyes at him. “Glad you think so.”

Luna stepped even closer, her eyes still filled with awe. “This… is incredible. I knew you were gifted, but unicorn magic? This is far beyond what I expected.”

I felt a flush of pride swell within me at her words, but tried to stay at least a little humble. “It’s still a work in progress. I can lift small objects and throw them around, but anything heavier would drain me pretty fast.”

She tilted her head, studying me with that thoughtful gaze of hers. “You’ve always been one to push boundaries, haven’t you? Learning magic that wasn’t even meant for you…”

“Well, it’s not just about learning it,” I said, feeling the moment was right to explain what I had been working toward. “There’s more.”

“More?” she asked, her interest clearly piqued.

I flashed her a quick smile before taking a deep breath, ready to dive into the next part of my demonstration. “I’ve been experimenting with funneling unicorn magic into my arcane spells. Amplifying them, in a way. It’s tricky, and I haven’t mastered it yet, but the results… they’re impressive.”

Her eyes widened, clearly intrigued by the idea. “Amplifying your spells? How so?”

I gestured toward a trio of target dummies that stood ready nearby. The early morning air seemed to still, as if even the world itself was waiting in anticipation. My heart pounded, not with nerves but with the thrill of what I was about to do. I could feel Luna’s eyes on me, full of curiosity and wonder, and Aldin’s quiet excitement pulsing through our bond.

“I’ll show you. This will be something extra special,” I said, more to myself than to Luna. My right hand lifted, and I stretched my fingers out as I prepared to cast the spell.

Aldin, perched nearby, was already leaning forward, his talons clenching the wooden post. “Is it the one with the big boom?” he asked, his voice alive with eagerness.

I smirked. “Oh, it’s got a big boom, alright.”

I began the incantation, the familiar words rolling off my tongue as my right hand blurred through the precise somatic motions I had practiced countless times before. The air shimmered in front of my hand, and with a soft hum of magic, a small, glowing bead of fire — no larger than a pea — appeared at the tip of my index finger. It was a soft orange-red at first, akin to the beginnings of a campfire.

Fireball.

I glanced at Luna, watching her expression carefully as my casting hand once again lit with my aura, and I infused the bead with unicorn magic. As the arcane and unicorn energies intertwined, the tiny ball of flame began to pulsate and warp. Its color shifted rapidly, the orange and red intensifying until it flared into a brilliant white-hot glow. The heat radiating from it was immense, and I could feel myself begging to sweat just from existing near it.

Luna’s eyes widened, reflecting the searing light. “By the stars...”

“Hold on,” I muttered through clenched teeth, focusing all my effort on maintaining control. This spell, amplified as it was, demanded more from me than simple unicorn telekinesis. I could feel the strain in my arm, and the pull upon my magical reserves.

The bead of fire, now akin to a miniature inferno, hovered above my fingertip, pulsing with energy. I could feel its power building, the raw destructive force yearning to be unleashed upon something, anything.

With a final whisper of the incantation, I pointed my finger toward the trio of targets.

The bead shot forward, a streak of blinding white flame cutting through the air like a meteor. For a split second, it seemed to vanish, and then—

Boom.

The fireball erupted with a deafening roar, expanding into a blazing inferno that swallowed the three dummies whole. The heat from the explosion washed over me, nearly knocking me off balance. I raised an arm to shield my eyes from the blinding light, but even through the intensity, I could hear Aldin’s delighted hoots as the explosion echoed across the sparring grounds.

The fireball burned so bright, it was almost painful to look at — like staring directly into the sun. The flames roared, licking at the ground and leaving scorch marks in their wake. For a moment, it was as if the entire courtyard had been turned into a furnace.

When the fire finally began to fade, the dummies were nearly incinerated. All that remained were smoldering, charred remnants of the dummies, and what was left of the still glowing hot iron stands. Even a few nearby stones had cracked from the heat, and I could see patches where the ground had been scorched jet black.

I lowered my arm, panting heavily as the exhaustion hit me all at once. Amplifying the Fireball with unicorn magic had taken a lot more out of me than I had expected, perhaps I should have waited a bit longer after my showing of telekinesis. My legs wobbled slightly, and I stumbled back, catching myself just before I collapsed.

Aldin swooped down, landing near the edge of the blast zone, his feathers ruffled in excitement. “That was amazing! Do it again!”

I gave him a weak smile, still trying to catch my breath. “Maybe later, best-buddy. That one took a lot out of me.”

Luna approached slowly, her gaze still fixed on the smoking remains of the dummies. The look on her face was a mixture of awe and concern. “Sebastian,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with amazement. “That was… incredible. I had no idea you were capable of such power.”

My smile grew as I nodded, still working towards steadying my breathing. “It’s all about finding the right ratio of unicorn to arcane energy. Arcane magic is precise in nature, but when you funnel the right amount of unicorn magic into it… you can amplify the spell’s effects. It’s not easy, though.” I gestured toward the smoldering wreckage. “The results vary and can be… intense.”

She turned her gaze to me, her expression softening. “But you’re exhausted. You cannot push yourself so hard, even for something as impressive as this.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, though the weariness tugging at me spoke of a different story. “Okay, I’m wiped. But it all becomes easier with practice!”

Aldin fluttered back to my side, looking between me and Luna with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “She’s right, you know. But that was still one of your best explosions yet.” He gave a small hoot, as if to emphasize his approval of this level of destruction.

I chuckled, though the sound came out more as a breathless sigh. “Glad I could entertain you, best-buddy.”

Luna stepped closer, her wing grazing my arm in a way that sent a fleeting chill over my skin. “You’ve certainly impressed me,” she teased, her smile touched with pride. "But now that I’ve seen your progress… it's time for you to take a break."

I returned her smile, grateful for her concern, though a familiar heaviness tugged at me. Despite all I had accomplished, and the strength I’d gained, the specter of my past failures lingered on in the corners of my mind. But as I met Luna’s gaze — bright with admiration, her love as vast as the night sky she ruled — I felt some of that weight lift, if only for a moment.

What a fool I am.

"Alright," I relented with a sigh. "But just for a little while."

After the demonstration, I stretched to shake loose the exhaustion that clung to me. Luna had taken to watching me. Something must’ve been on her mind because she had grown silent in her observations, although her eyes remained active. Luna’s playful tone had slipped into something more serious as she approached again, her eyes carrying an unspoken thought.

As I stretched, trying to shake off the exhaustion, I noticed Luna’s gaze had settled on me, intent and unwavering. She’d fallen silent in her watchfulness, the playful lilt in her tone gone, replaced by a quiet contemplation. Yet, her eyes traced over me with a warmth I recognized, lingering in a way that made the air feel heavier, almost charged.

“Sebastian,” she murmured, her wing brushing more deliberately against my arm this time, as if to hold me there, to keep my attention on her. “I need to ask you something important."

"Anything," I replied, pushing through the weariness. "What's on your mind?"

She hesitated — a rarity for her — and that hesitation put me on edge. "It concerns Captain Noctra. Do you remember her?"

It was hard to forget the mare who had appeared at the end of Night Court, seeking to reinstate the Lunar Guard. She had been a vision of old times, draped in that ancient silver armor beneath her cloak, her stoic demeanor masking what I could only assume was a sea of emotions. The encounter had been brief, but it had left an impression on the both of us.

“I remember her,” I said, nodding. “Hard to forget someone who looks like they stepped straight out of a history book.”

Luna's lips twitched into a brief smile, though it faded as quickly as it appeared. "Yes… Noctra is to lead the newly reformed Lunar Guard. Given her role, she and I will be working closely together."

I raised an eyebrow, I could guess where this was going. “And you want me to be friends with her?”

Luna chuckled, though her voice carried an undercurrent of tension. "Yes. You'll both be working with me, and while I trust her, the thestrals carry much from the past. Noctra needs someone besides me to trust, someone she can confide in."

I blinked, surprised. "You're not joking?"

Her expression hardened slightly. "I'm serious, Sebastian. You have a way of reaching ponies, of helping them see the best in themselves. Noctra is strong, but she's haunted by her doubts — about me, her place, and the future of thestrals as a whole. If you offer her, and my thestrals your friendship, it would help her... it would help all of us."

I scratched my head, processing her request. It wasn’t a small task. Noctra was an enigma, and Luna's history with the thestrals was deeper than what could fully be grasped from a few scant historical texts. But if it mattered to her, then it mattered to me.

It would also serve as a step towards making penance for my failures.

“Well,” I said, grinning to ease the tension, “I guess I should start writing friendship reports now, huh? Seems like that’s becoming part of the job.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but her expression softened at my joke. “If only Twilight Sparkle were here now to see how far you’ve come,” she teased, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

I chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll have to ask her for some pointers on the best way to report my progress. Maybe she’s got a spare template I can borrow.”

But then, much to my surprise, Luna’s demeanor shifted slightly, her wings rustling at her sides as if she were about to say something completely unexpected. And then she did. “Actually, I have a suggestion.”

I straightened, sensing something unusual coming. “Go on.”

“You should take Noctra out drinking,” she said, her voice steady, as if this was a perfectly normal thing for her to suggest. “Shining Armor has been back in Canterlot for a few days now, hasn’t he? Perhaps you could take Noctra to the Golden Horseshoe with him.”

I stared at her, blinking rapidly as I processed what she just said. “Wait… you want me to take Noctra drinking? With Shining Armor?”

“Yes,” Luna said without hesitation. “You’ve been meaning to spend time with him, have you not?”

“Well, yeah,” I admitted. “Shining and I were supposed to hang out, but—"

“But?” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “You have an opportunity here, Sebastian. Shining Armor is not only the Captain of the Solar Guard but also a trusted friend. He could help ease Noctra into the current era, into the role she must play. And you, well… you’re the bridge between all of this.”

I blinked again. “I’m a bridge, huh?”

Luna nodded, her gaze never leaving mine. “Noctra has been gone from the wider world for a long time, in a sense. The thestrals have kept to themselves during my banishment. If she is to lead the Lunar Guard in this modern Equestria, she will need allies beyond myself.” Her eyes softened. “And she will need good friends.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “So… you think a night at the Golden Horseshoe will fix all of that?”

Luna’s lips curved into a genuine smile this time, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Perhaps not all, but it is a start. You’ve already proven that sometimes, a little levity can go a long way.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation but also realizing that Luna was right. Noctra was stepping into a role that carried centuries of history, and she’d need support — both formal and informal. And if anyone could help her adjust, it would be Shining Armor and maybe… me.

“Alright,” I said, rubbing my temples with a tired smile. “I’ll see if Shining’s up for it. And I’ll see if I can convince Noctra to tag along.”

Luna’s smile grew, and she leaned in slightly, her presence warm and reassuring. “Thank you, Sebastian. I know this will help her.”

I nodded, though I still couldn’t quite shake the image of the stoic, still armored Noctra sitting at a tavern, surrounded by drinks and rowdy laughter. The idea seemed absurd, but also oddly fitting. If she was going to be a part of this world, she might as well dive in headlong.

As Luna stepped back, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer, I felt a strange sense of responsibility settle in my chest. This wasn’t just about a casual night out; it was about helping someone find their place, just like Luna and I had done for each other.

“Well,” I said, cracking my knuckles and grinning, “I guess tonight it’ll be time to break out the cider and puns!”

Luna chuckled, her wings folding neatly at her sides as she turned toward the open window. The moon hung low in the sky now, signaling the approach of dawn. “I look forward to hearing about your evening,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “Just… don’t blow anything up.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “No promises.”

She shot me one last amused glance before spreading her wings and taking off into the early morning sky, leaving me standing there, wondering just how wild tonight was going to get.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Later that evening, I found myself standing outside the Golden Horseshoe, where warm, familiar lantern light spilled out over the cobblestone streets. The soft hum of laughter and clinking glasses from inside drifted through the cool air, promising the lively, rowdy atmosphere that Shining Armor and I were after. He’d already secured us a table inside, eager to wash away the memories of his latest mission over a few rounds. Now, I was just waiting for the final addition to our group.

Noctra.

I glanced around, half-expecting her to melt out of the shadows. thestrals had that reputation, after all, and Noctra, in particular, seemed to embody it. The first time I saw her, she’d appeared out of nowhere in Night Court, silent as a breeze.

Right on cue, she emerged from the dim alley beside the pub, still clad in her silver Lunar Guard armor. Her cloak was missing tonight, leaving her sleek wings folded neatly at her sides. Her expression was as guarded as ever, yet there was something in the way she held herself — a subtle stiffness — that hinted she felt out of place here.

“Noctra,” I greeted her, trying to ease the edge off with a small, friendly smile. “Glad you could make it.”

She stopped a few feet away, her slit-pupiled, golden eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded me. “Princess Luna insisted,” she stated flatly.

I chuckled softly. “Yeah, she has a way of getting things done, doesn’t she?”

Noctra’s gaze flicked toward the tavern door, lingering there for a moment before she spoke again. “I’m not sure what you expect from this,” she admitted, her tone still formal but edged with doubt. “I don’t… drink.”

I shrugged, stepping toward the door. “It’s not about the drinks, really. It’s about the company. If you wish, you may be the sober one tonight.”

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, calculating. Then, with a barely perceptible nod, she followed. “Very well.”

I pushed open the door, and the familiar creak welcomed us into the warmth of the Golden Horseshoe. The golden glow from the lamps inside bathed the room in a cozy light. As usual, the place was buzzing — guards off-duty sharing stories, ponies laughing over mugs of cider, and the low murmur of conversations filling the air. It had been some time since I’d last been here, and the place hadn’t changed much.

Noctra, silent at my side, seemed to blend into the background in spite of her gleaming silver armor. The way the light caught her, reflecting off the metal, made her appear like a phantom from another time. Without her cloak, the sight of her — a thestral in full Lunar Guard armor — stood out in the Solar Guard’s favored tavern, like ink spilled on parchment. Her sharp amber eyes flicked around the room, cool and methodical, as if searching for potential threats.

I glanced at her, trying to break the ice. “Ever been in a bar before?”

Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, more like an acknowledgment. “Once. Briefly. This seems more like your kind of place.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, well, tonight’s an exception. But you might be surprised. Ponies are ponies, armor or no armor.”

Her ears flicked in response, a subtle sign she was listening, though she said nothing as we made our way further into the bar. The quiet tension between us lingered, but I had a hunch it would soften with time.

In the corner, an earth pony with a pink bow-tie played a cello, her deep, resonant notes washing over the room. Her eyes were closed in quiet concentration, the rich tones of her instrument casting a calm, almost melancholic mood that contrasted perfectly with the lively buzz of the patrons. There was something dignified about her presence, a moment of stillness in a place otherwise filled with chatter. I made a mental note to ask Shining Armor if he knew her name.

Speaking of Shining Armor, there he was, waving us over with his signature grin, seated at an empty table near the back. His white coat practically shimmered under the tavern lights, and his mane — those familiar shades of blue — was a bit more tousled than usual. Judging by the state of it, I figured Cadance might have kept him busy before he arrived. He looked every bit the Captain of the Guard — sharp, confident, and at ease in his surroundings.

“There you are!” Shining called out, his voice cleaving through the chatter. “I was starting to think you’d bailed on me!”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I called back, navigating the tables. Noctra trailed silently behind me, her amber eyes constantly scanning the room, like a watchful sentinel.

As I reached the table, Shining stood up and clapped me on the shoulder, his familiar warmth immediately setting a casual tone. “Good to see you, Seb. Feels like it’s been ages.”

“Likewise. Last I heard, you were halfway across Equestria,” I said, returning the gesture. “Good to have you back in Canterlot.”

Shining laughed. “Sebastian, please! Vanhoover’s not exactly the edge of the world, but it does feel like it is sometimes. Cadance and I just got back. Long mission, but it’s good to be home. Definitely needed a drink after that.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place.” I motioned to Noctra, standing beside me with her usual silent intensity. “Shining, this is Captain Noctra, the new head of the Lunar Guard. Noctra, this is Shining Armor, Captain of the Solar Guard.”

Shining wasted no time, extending his hoof with that easy-going confidence he had. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain. Heard a lot about the Lunar Guard being reinstated. Quite the move.”

Noctra hesitated, her gaze flicking to his outstretched hoof for the briefest of moments, before she grasped it in a firm shake. “Likewise, Captain Armor. Your reputation precedes you. I anticipate working alongside you.”

I raised an eyebrow at her formality. Not unexpected, given how she's acted so far, but in a setting like this, it felt out of place. It made me wonder how she’d handle other relaxed atmospheres.

We all took our seats, the wooden chairs creaking under our weight. Shining waved a hoof to catch the waitress’s attention for drinks, and I leaned back, feeling the familiar comfort of the Golden Horseshoe settle over me. Noctra, however, remained stiff, as though she were on duty, her eyes continuing their methodical sweep of the room even as she sat. She was alert, guarded — everything I’d expect from a guard on duty, but she was off duty and such things felt out of place in this casual setting.

“So,” Shining began, glancing between Noctra and me with a grin, “what’s the occasion? I thought you’d be buried in your wizard stuff, Seb.”

“Shining, I am always buried in my wizard stuff,” I replied offering a mock-serious look. “Luna told me I need to make some more friends. Said something about a ‘friendship report’ or something.”

Shining nearly choked on his drink, laughing. “You? Friendship reports? Yeah, I don’t see that happening.”

“If it works for Twilight, maybe Luna thinks it’ll work for me,” I shot back with a smirk, taking a sip of my own drink.

Noctra, who had been watching the exchange with mild interest, tilted her head slightly. “Friendship reports?”

Shining chuckled again. “It’s a long story. My sister, Twilight Sparkle — she’s been sending letters to Princess Celestia about the 'magic of friendship' for a while now. Part of her… studies, I guess.”

Noctra blinked, absorbing the information. “I see. And you’re expected to do the same?” Her gaze shifted to me, an unreadable expression on her face.

I shrugged. “Not exactly, but Luna thinks I should get to know you better since we’ll be working together. Figured this was as good a place as any.”

Noctra’s eyes narrowed slightly, but I could tell she wasn’t offended — just calculating. “So, this is about duty, then.”

Shining shook his head, grinning. “Not everything’s about duty. Sometimes, you just need to kick back with friends.”

Noctra took a moment, glancing around the bar, her eyes lingering on some particularly rowdy Solar Guards in the corner before settling back on us. After a soft sigh, she allowed herself to relax, just a little. “Perhaps you’re right, Captain. It has been… some time since I’ve been in such company.”

Shining and I exchanged a quick glance, sharing a grin. This was going to be an interesting night.

“How about we make it official?” I raised my glass. “To new friendships — and not having to write any reports about them.”

Shining laughed, clinking his glass with mine. “I’ll drink to that.”

Noctra hesitated, her wings still tightly tucked to her sides, and to my surprise she opted to lift her glass of hard cider. Her smile was faint, almost imperceptible, but there. “To new friendships,” she echoed, her voice soft but resolute all the same.

We clinked our glasses together, and as the first round of drinks flowed, the atmosphere around the table began to shift. Noctra, so formal and reserved when she first arrived, gradually started to ease into the moment. Her wings remained stiff, but the tension in her posture faded, replaced by something quieter — perhaps contemplation, or maybe even curiosity.

The drinks were starting to hit.

I could feel the warmth settling in, easing away the day’s tension and leaving behind only the buzz of good company. The bar around us glowed in the dim light from the golden lamps, their warm hue casting a cozy, almost surreal atmosphere over the place. The soft hum of the cello added to it all, its haunting melody weaving through the laughter and chatter in the Golden Horseshoe. The drink had a comforting burn, and I noticed Noctra’s lips curling into a barely-there smile as she sipped.

The three of us sat back, drinks in hand, swapping stories and toasts. Noctra, while mostly reserved, was showing little glimpses of herself — a dry comment here, a raised brow there. Shining, on the other hand, was in full form. He had a talent for pushing everyone around him into letting loose, and tonight was no different.

At one point, I caught her looking at the décor on the walls — old portraits and ancient flags, most of them Solar Guard insignia. There wasn’t a single crescent moon or thestral symbol in sight.

“Feels odd, doesn’t it?” I ventured, leaning a bit closer to her over the table. “All this Solar Guard imagery around, and not a trace of the Lunar Guard.”

Noctra’s eyes softened slightly, her gaze thoughtful. “The traditions of the Lunar Guard live on in Hollow Shades. We kept them alive… as best as we could.” There was a note of pride in her voice, but also something else — something that felt like the weight of a thousand years. “The Lunar Guard’s duty was to protect Princess Luna, even when she… was not herself. We honor her, and all that she stands for.”

Shining raised his glass, nodding solemnly. “To Luna and the Lunar Guard, then.”

We all clinked our glasses, and I caught a flash of gratitude in Noctra’s eyes. She downed her drink in one swig, looking a little more comfortable now, though the steady focus on her duty to Luna never completely faded.

And that’s when I got an idea. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lightness of the moment, but I leaned in, putting on my best exaggeratedly serious face.

“Noctra,” I said, drawing out her name with a dramatic pause. She looked at me, brow raised.

“Knock, knock.”

She blinked, confused. “Knock… knock?”

“Exactly!” I said, smirking as I continued. “Knock, knock.”

She sighed, her voice almost bemused. “Who’s there?”

“‘Noct!’”

“Noct who?”

“Noct gonna explain the joke to you if you don’t get it!” I said, leaning back with a grin, unable to keep a straight face.

Shining burst into laughter, nearly spilling his drink, and even Noctra let out a reluctant chuckle, the sound so unexpected and soft that it caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected her to laugh, but there was something satisfying about it.

She looked down at her glass, shaking her head slightly. “I have never heard humor like this before,” she murmured, though there was a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, just wait,” Shining said, eyes twinkling. “Seb here has a million of those. He’ll keep you entertained — or tortured — for hours.”

Noctra’s amusement was subtle but genuine, and for a moment, the tension from earlier was gone. She took another sip, her amber eyes glinting as she looked between us. The quiet pride of the Lunar Guard’s traditions was still there, but now there was a spark, a curiosity about the world she’d spent so long away from.

As more drinks made their rounds, the three of us continued to share stories. Shining regaled us with a tale about a “mystery training accident” he’d caused with some poorly timed spell, which had left most of his squadron with singed tails and a newfound respect for keeping their distance. Noctra, though hesitant at first, eventually shared a story from her training days in Hollow Shades — apparently, as a young recruit, she had to practice blindfolded flights in the darkened woods. The thestrals would test one another’s ability to move silently and rely on their senses, an old tradition meant to keep them in tune with the night.

“You wouldn’t last a minute out there, Seb,” Shining teased, nudging me. “Blindfolded in the woods? You’d probably walk into a tree.”

“Oh, please,” I shot back. “I’d probably be able to manage better than you. Remember the last time you tried to make it through an obstacle course in the dark?”

Shining laughed, not even trying to deny it. “I’ll admit, it’s not my strongest skill. But I’d still pay good money to watch you try it.”

Noctra seemed mildly amused by our banter, though her attention remained ever-so-slightly distant, like she was taking it all in but keeping a small part of herself apart, reserved.

But the night went on, and the drinks kept coming. We were well into our cups when Shining finally leaned forward with a grin, looking like he was about to say something that would definitely get under my skin.

“So, Noctra,” he began, leaning forward with that mischievous look he always got when he was about to stir the pot. "I’ve been meaning to ask — what did you think when you first saw our friend Seb here? You know, first impressions?"

I shot him a warning look. “Really?”

He shrugged, grinning even wider. “Come on, it’s all in good fun.”

Noctra blinked at the question, her amber eyes flicking to me for a moment before settling back on Shining. She took a deliberate measured sip of her cider, her expression unreadable. “My first impression of Sebastian?” she repeated thoughtfully, as if weighing each word. “I believed him to be... a companion to Princess Luna. A pet, perhaps.”

I choked on my drink, and Shining snorted, barely keeping his laughter in check.

“A pet?” I managed to say, my voice a little hoarse. “That’s... new.”

Noctra’s calm exterior remained, but there was a faint glint of amusement in her eyes. “It was a passing thought. Until I noticed Luna’s sword,” she continued, her gaze briefly landing on the sword at my hip. “In thestral culture, a weapon engraved with one’s cutie mark is a symbol of courtship.”

My eyebrow shot up as I glanced down at Promise. Luna’s crescent moon was etched into the pommel — the blade served as a constant reminder of the promises I made to her. But hearing that it held another layer of meaning, particularly in thestral tradition, caught me off guard.

“Courtship?” I echoed, intrigued.

Noctra nodded. “Yes. A gesture of genuine trust and... affection. A weapon bearing one’s cutie mark is not given lightly. In our culture, it represents a bond far deeper than mere companionship. It signifies loyalty and... intimacy.”

I blinked, trying to process that. Luna had entrusted Promise to me before I left on my first missions, asking me to promise to return to her side, no matter what. It had been a personal, almost sacred moment between us. But now, knowing it also had significance in thestral culture made me wonder if Luna had been aware of this too. She must have.

I couldn’t help, but smile.

Shining, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. Leaning back in his chair, he shot me an exaggerated grin. “Looks like you’ve been Luna’s royal consort longer than you thought, Seb.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s not like that.”

Noctra raised an eyebrow, her tone as steady as ever. “Is it not? You carry a weapon marked with her cutie mark. You are her apprentice, and from what I have observed, your connection to the Princess extends beyond mere professionalism.” Her words were neutral, there was no hint of malice — just a simple, pointed observation.

Shining chuckled. “Seb’s always been a little slow on the uptake when it comes to these sorts of things. Cadance called it months ago. The moment she met him, she said Luna was going to fall for him. I just think it’s hilarious that all this time, you’ve had a pretty clear sign hanging off your hip.”

I couldn’t help but smirk, leaning back in my chair. “Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it. But I’d like to think it’s a little more... nuanced than just a sword.”

Shining laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m sure it is. But come on, you’ve got to admit, it’s kind of funny.”

I chuckled, glancing at Promise again. Trust Shining to find humor in anything.

Noctra’s gaze remained on me, her amber eyes more contemplative now. “Do you understand, Sebastian?” Her voice was softer, almost reverent. “The significance of what you carry?”

I met her eyes, feeling the sword at my hip differently now. “I do,” I replied quietly. “Luna asked me to promise her I’d return, no matter what. And I will. No matter what happens, I’ll always come back to her.”

Noctra studied me for a moment longer before giving a measured nod. “Then you understand the bond that weapon represents. It’s a promise of loyalty, honor, and duty. A bond that isn’t broken lightly.”

I nodded, the importance of it all settling over me. I hadn’t fully grasped it before, but Promise was more than just a weapon of dreams and magic. It was the physical manifestation of the bond Luna and I shared — strengthened with every passing day, every secret moment, every touch.

Shining raised his glass, grinning. “To promises, and to not getting killed out there so we can actually keep them.”

I laughed, tapping my glass against his and Noctra’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

As the night continued, our conversations shifted to lighter fare — Shining’s latest mission, playful jabs about my lack of Equestrian military know-how, and more jokes at my expense regarding my new ‘royal consort’ status. Noctra, though still reserved, had relaxed considerably, even letting a few dry quips slip through the cracks of her stoic exterior.

As the night at the Golden Horseshoe continued, with Shining’s laughter filling the air and Noctra’s quiet presence at my side, I couldn’t help but think about how everything had changed since I first met Luna. We had grown so close, deeper in every way — emotionally, physically. I’d gone from being a lost soul in a strange world to someone who had found purpose, love, and a home.

The weight of that promise felt heavier now, but it was a burden I was more than willing to carry. For her. Always for her.

Because that was the promise.

The Golden Horseshoe buzzed around us — glasses clinking, voices mingling, and the low, soothing melody of a cello played by a talented earth pony in the corner. Shining Armor and I had already knocked back a few pints, and even Noctra had softened under the influence of both the camaraderie and the drinks.

“Y’know, Seb,” Shining slurred slightly, leaning across the table with a lopsided grin, “you’ve really done somethin’. Luna, huh? That’s…” He trailed off into laughter, raising his mug in a loose toast. “I always knew you’d be good at... somethin’.”

I snorted, downing the last of my cider. The warmth of the drink was a slow burn, softening the edges of the world. “Well,” I muttered with a half-smirk, “mooning over Luna wasn’t exactly on the checklist when I got here, but... I’m glad it happened. Heh… moon…”

Noctra sat across from us, her wings draped casually at her sides, a rare hint of amusement in her eyes. Her earlier reserve had melted into something more relaxed, though that air of formality still lingered. “Princess Luna is not easily won over,” she remarked, her voice softer now, though still edged with that firm, disciplined tone of hers. “You’ve earned more than just her affection, Sebastian. Her trust… that is something the legends say few ever gain.”

I blinked, feeling the significance of her words through the foggy haze of alcohol settling in. Luna’s trust wasn’t just something I simply valued — it was something I held sacred. Hearing Noctra acknowledge it, someone so intertwined with Luna’s history and culture, made me appreciate it even more. The significance of Luna choosing me — entrusting me with her heart and Promise — was not lost on me.

Shining Armor, however, didn’t share the solemn mood. He leaned back in his chair with a laugh. “Trust, love... and gifts!” His grin was mischievous. “C’mon, Seb. You can’t just sit there basking in Luna’s glow without giving her something in return.”

I raised an eyebrow, the alcohol fogging my thoughts. “What do you mean, ‘something in return’?”

Shining slapped the table, drawing a few glances from nearby patrons. “A gift, dummy! Luna’s already given you that sword of hers. You can’t leave her hanging. You gotta give her something thoughtful, something that shows you’re serious.”

Noctra’s voice cut in, more measured but tinged with amusement. “In thestral tradition, when one receives something as significant as a marked weapon, it’s customary to offer a token in return — a gift symbolizing the bond and the strength of the relationship.”

I tilted my head, my alcohol-addled brain mulling over her words. Luna had given me Promise — a symbol of her trust and love. And here I was, having given her nothing in return. I hadn’t considered it before, but now, with both Shining and Noctra nudging me, the idea of creating something for her — something personal — started to take shape.

“What would I even give her?” I asked, genuinely puzzled. Luna was… well, she was the Princess of the Night. She had everything. What could I possibly offer that would hold meaning?

Shining grinned like he’d been waiting for this. “It doesn’t have to be huge. Just something that shows you’ve put thought into it. Like... maybe something related to the stars or the moon, since, y’know… that’s her thing.”

Noctra nodded. “A gift tied to the night sky would be fitting. It would show your understanding of what she holds dear.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking. Something related to the stars... Luna had spent countless nights teaching me the constellations, guiding my understanding of the night sky. I could trace the patterns with ease now. Maybe something that captured that?

“What about a clock?” I said aloud, the idea forming slowly. “A moon clock. Something that shows the phases of the moon and the constellations she taught me.”

Shining and Noctra exchanged a look, Shining’s grin widening. “Now that’s a good idea. Thoughtful, personal, and totally up Luna’s alley.”

Noctra’s expression softened into something approving. “She would appreciate the thought behind it. A fitting tribute.”

A swell of pride filled me. A moon clock, with the phases of the moon and the constellations we’d shared so many nights talking about… It was perfect. It would show Luna how much those moments meant to me — how much she meant to me. Maybe I’ll throw in a heartfelt letter? Couldn’t hurt.

Shining, clearly pleased with where the conversation was headed, leaned in again, his drink sloshing in the mug. "And hey, while we’re on the subject of gifts... don’t forget about Celestia."

I blinked at him, the thought of gifting Celestia something hadn’t even crossed my mind. "Celestia? Why would I...?"

"Come on, Seb," Shining said, gesturing wide with a grin. "She’s Luna’s sister. Gotta keep the peace, y'know? Can’t be showering one with gifts and leaving the other high and dry. It’s basic diplomacy!"

Noctra, with a faint smile, added, "Shining Armor does have a point. As Luna’s consort — whether officially or not — offering a token of respect to her sister would show wisdom."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Okay, okay, but... what would I even give Celestia?"

Shining’s grin grew wider, clearly having too much fun with this. "Oh, I dunno, how about something that doesn’t melt under the sun?"

I shot him a deadpan look while Noctra shook her head softly. "A gift for Princess Celestia should reflect light, warmth... and perhaps humor. Something that speaks to her nature as the Sun Princess. Something that’s not chocolate."

Reflecting light and warmth... I turned the idea over in my mind, not sure what exactly that meant. Something simple but thoughtful seemed right — nothing too extravagant, but enough to show my respect for her.

Why does this have to be so complicated?

The night dragged on, and as the alcohol kept flowing, the suggestions grew more absurd. Shining threw out ideas ranging from enchanted sun-shaped trinkets to glow-in-the-dark body pillows, each more ridiculous than the last. Noctra, however, offered a few helpful suggestions — small, thoughtful gestures, especially something reflecting Celestia’s fondness for tea, or something that an immortal would appreciate.

Leaning back in my chair, the alcohol buzzed through me, making everything warm and blurry. This was nice. Different from what I was used to, but still nice. The stress of pushing myself, the weight of my failures, all of it felt miles away as I soaked in the atmosphere. The soft glow of the golden lamps bathed the room in a pleasant light, and the melody of the cello in the background eased into my mind. For a moment, I closed my eyes and let the music take me somewhere peaceful.

The combination of music, company, and the warm glow of the evening melded together into a comfortable haze, and I felt like I could stay here forever. But Shining’s hearty laugh eventually pulled me back, and I blinked, trying to shake off the daze.

"Sebastian!" Shining slurred, slapping me on the back hard enough to send me lurching forward. "Time to head back, buddy. Can’t leave the princess waitin', can we?"

I chuckled, finding everything funnier thanks to the alcohol. "Yeah, yeah, I wouldn't want Luna thinking I ran off to join the Solar Guard."

Shining snorted. "As if you could handle our drills."

I was ready to challenge him, claim I could breeze through his drills with ease, but instead, I shot him a mock glare and stood — too fast, apparently, as the room tilted slightly. I gripped the back of my chair and the table, steadying myself as the buzz hit me harder now that I was upright. Noctra, ever composed, rose with her usual grace, though I noticed the faintest flush on her gray cheeks. I envied the balance her four legs granted her.

Maybe I should give polymorphing a try. Four legs might help in moments like this.

"Well, I believe it’s time for me to return to my quarters," Noctra said, her voice maintaining its disciplined tone, though there was a soft slur to her words. "Princess Luna expects me to oversee the new recruits of the Lunar Guard tomorrow night."

"Duty this, duty that," Shining teased, waving a hoof as if brushing the notion aside. "Come on, Noctra, you’re off-duty now. It’s okay to let your mane down a little."

"My mane is down," she replied, dry as ever, though her eyes betrayed a glimmer of amusement as she flicked her tail. "But I do not neglect my responsibilities."

"That’s why you’re gonna be a good captain — neigh! A great captain," I said with a slurred grin, my words beginning to blur. "But yeah, I think we should all head back."

The thought of walking all the way through the halls of Canterlot Castle sounded... exhausting. Then it hit me — like a stroke of inebriated genius — I could just teleport.

"Hey," I declared, raising my hand like I was making some profound statement, filled with the bravado of a man who’d had one too many drinks, "I’ll just teleport back. Simple. Easy."

Shining burst out laughing, his voice booming. "Teleport? In your state? You’d end up on the roof or worse!" He shook his head, still grinning.

I waved him off, the alcohol fueling my overconfidence. "I’ve got this. I’m practically a master of conjuration." I gave a mock bow, wobbling slightly but pretending I was in full control.

Noctra raised a skeptical brow, clearly not convinced. "Sebastian, are you sure? In your... current state, your focus might be... compromised."

"Pssh," I brushed off her concern with a smirk. "I’ve done this a hundred times. Easy as pie."

With that, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the spell. Or at least, I tried to. My mind was a little hazy, but that was just a minor detail. I could still picture my room in Canterlot Castle — my bed, the desk stacked with notes of spells to add to my spellbook, the view from the balcony.

Easy.

But, as I stood there trying to focus, something else snuck into my thoughts — Luna. I could see her so clearly in my mind: her soft smile, the sound of her laugh, the way she looked at me just before we drifted off to sleep together. And before I knew it, the image of my room faded away, replaced by the image of Luna’s bedchamber: the grand fireplace, the tall windows, the silver and dark tones, the luxurious canopy bed draped in deep blue curtains. I could almost smell the faint scent of lavender that always lingered there.

Before I could stop myself or adjust my focus, the spell activated with a whispered incantation, and the world around me vanished.

The familiar feeling of my feet hitting solid ground returned, but something wasn’t right. I blinked, and I realized I wasn’t in my room at all. I was standing in the middle of Luna’s bedchambers. The deep blue walls surrounded me, the ceiling painted with constellations, and heavy silk curtains framed the bed.

Yep. This was definitely her room.

"Well... this isn’t my room," I muttered, the absurdity of the situation making me grin. The alcohol still swirled in my head, and I let out a soft laugh, knowing Luna was going to love this.

Feeling the sudden weight of exhaustion, I stumbled over to her bed and collapsed onto it with a groan. The cool silk sheets felt incredible against my skin, and I couldn’t resist sinking deeper into the softness of the mattress. Honestly, I much preferred this bed to my own anyway. The most gorgeous mare always shows up when I lay in this one.

Lying there, staring up at the ceiling dotted with stars, I let out a contented sigh. The alcohol buzzed through me, making everything warm and pleasantly fuzzy. Time blurred, slipping away as I melted into the comfort of the bed. Whether it had been a few minutes or an hour, I couldn’t tell — and frankly, I didn’t care. All I knew was that I didn’t want to move anytime soon.

Just as I was starting to drift into sleep, the soft creak of the door opening caught my attention. I blinked, sluggishly turning my head to see Luna stepping into the room. Her dark mane rippled with the shimmer of the night sky, the stars within twinkling faintly. Her expression shifted from surprise to something warmer — amusement, fondness, and just a dash of exasperation.

"Sebastian," she sighed, her voice carrying both affection and a touch of bemusement. "What exactly are you doing here?"

I chuckled, the sound coming out low and lazy, my words slurring together just enough to ensure that no one could doubt my state of inebriation. "Teleportation... mishap," I muttered, waving a hand dismissively in the air. "Was aiming for my room... but I guess I couldn’t stop thinking about you."

Luna raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement lighting up her eyes as her lips quirked upward. "Is that so?" she asked, her tone teasing.

"Can’t help it," I grinned up at her. "You’re always on my mind. All the time."

She stepped closer, her hooves making barely a sound on the stone floor as she approached the bed. "I see," she murmured, her voice lilting with a playful edge. "Well, I must say, you certainly have a unique way of making an entrance."

I propped myself up on one elbow, trying and failing to seem more composed. "Just thought I’d skip the walk. You know... make it easier for myself. Your tower has a lot of stairs y’know?"

Luna’s eyes gleamed with humor as she gazed down at me. "And here I was, expecting to see you tomorrow. How fortunate I am for this early visit."

"Very fortunate," I responded smooth at butter, my grin widening some. "Now we can jump straight to the cuddling part."

She laughed softly, shaking her head, but her eyes were warm. "You’re hopeless, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love it," I shot back, reaching for her hoof and running my thumb gently over the soft fur. That familiar warmth rushed through me, the one that always came when we touched. "Admit it."

Luna looked down at me, her amusement giving way to something softer, deeper. Her gaze lingered on mine for a moment, and the playful teasing between us faded into quiet affection. She leaned down, brushing her lips against mine in a tender kiss. "I do," she whispered.

I smiled, the lingering buzz of alcohol mixing with the warmth of her touch. "Told you."

She chuckled again, pulling away slightly but never leaving my side. "You’ve had quite the night, haven’t you? Perhaps you should rest now."

"Only if you stay," I replied, patting the spot beside me.

Luna sighed, though a smile still lingered in her eyes as she slipped into the bed beside me. She moved gracefully, her presence filling the room like the cool, quiet blanket of night, and when she settled beside me, it felt like slipping into a long-awaited calm. I drew her close, feeling her heartbeat against mine as we lay together, her warmth the perfect antidote to the buzz still swirling in my head.

“You know,” I murmured, letting my fingers trace small, lazy circles on her back, “you’re awfully good at being here just when I need you.”

She hummed softly, arching slightly under my touch. “A skill I take great pride in,” she replied with a smirk. “And it seems I was right in sending you off with Shining and Noctra. I had a feeling it would do you some good to unwind, even if you found your way here in a… less-than-usual manner.”

“I’d say it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” I tilted my head, letting the words come slow and warm. “Although… you might have to be the one to make sure I’m ‘unwound’ by the end of tonight.”

She chuckled, low and rich, tracing a delicate line across my chest with her hoof. “Is that so? And here I thought I was already accommodating your every need.”

“Oh, you are,” I replied, my voice growing softer, though my fingers continued their leisurely dance along her back. “But maybe you could indulge me a little more?”

Her eyes glinted with amusement as she raised an eyebrow. “Sebastian, it seems the cider has left you quite bold tonight.” Her tone was teasing, though the warmth in her gaze told me she didn’t mind.

“Can you blame me?” I grinned, threading my fingers through her mane. “You make me bold, Luna. You bring out this… I don’t know, reckless part of me. Maybe because you’re the only one I’ve ever really felt this way about.”

Her gaze softened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, lingering there. “I do find that terribly endearing.” Her lips brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, and when she drew back, her eyes held that familiar spark of mischief. “But you are still inebriated, dear Sebastian. Perhaps we’ll save your bolder ambitions for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I echoed, nodding slowly. “Guess that gives me something to look forward to.”

“Indeed,” she replied, her voice a soft purr as she wrapped her foreleg around me, pulling me closer. “For now, I think I shall enjoy simply having you here.”

I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers in a lingering kiss, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. “You know, if this is what ‘rest’ with you feels like, I could get used to needing rest more often.”

She laughed, her eyes shimmering with affection. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

We lay together in silence for a few moments, the quiet broken only by the soft cadence of her breathing and the distant sound of the city below. I felt my eyelids grow heavy, the night and the drinks finally catching up to me. But even as I drifted, I kept my arm around her, savoring the comfort of her presence.

With one last sleepy smile, I murmured, “You’re incredible, Luna. Don’t know if I tell you that enough.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she replied, “And you are more precious to me than the stars, Sebastian.”

As sleep began to pull me under, I couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky I was — how unbelievably fortunate to have her by my side. This wasn’t something I’d ever trade, not for anything.

With that thought, I drifted off, the warmth of her presence lulling me into peaceful sleep filled with dreams of gifts crafted by my own hands.

Gifts

Canterlot’s gardens glowed in the soft morning light, the world awash in golden hues as sunlight filtered through dewdrops on the flowers. The sight felt oddly serene to someone used to the night; I’d long since grown accustomed to sleeping shortly after dawn since adapting to Luna’s hours.

But this morning held a purpose that wouldn’t wait for sleep. I was awake, armed with the Keep Watch spell to keep drowsiness at bay.

Luna and I stood beneath an old oak, its branches stretching overhead like a quiet sanctuary. She looked at me with calm curiosity, her eyes occasionally flicking toward the small bag on my belt. Despite the dawn approaching, her presence felt as steady as the night.

After Noctra and Shining Armor suggested the idea, I’d worked obsessively to bring it to life. Crafting the Moon Clock and Sundial of Memory had come naturally, almost as if the magic was eager to shape itself. The Bag of Holding, on the other hand, was for practicality’s sake — a way to keep the gifts, scrolls, and anything else I might require in the future close at hand wherever I went.

“You know, it’s not fair to keep me in suspense like this, Sebastian,” Luna murmured, a mischievous spark lighting her eyes as her wing brushed against my arm, her tone playful but with a hint of true curiosity beneath it.

I grinned, my fingers tightening on the strap of the Bag of Holding. The gifts inside had been my secret project, and while Luna had tried to coax details out of me in her own charming ways over the past few days, I hadn’t let a word slip.

“Suspense is part of the fun,” I replied with a sidelong smirk as we continued down the garden path. “You’ll thank me later.”

She stepped closer, her gaze glinting with a challenge, her wing pressing softly against my side as she leaned in. “Careful, my dear apprentice. I could simply peek inside and end this ‘suspense’ right now.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could,” I chuckled, catching her playful glances out of the corner of my eye, knowing she loved the thrill of the game as much as I did. “But then you’d miss out on all this anticipation.”

Luna sighed in a way that told me she was savoring every second of this. “You’re testing my patience, you know. You’ve been diving into more than just unicorn magic lately, haven’t you?”

As we reached a small clearing beside the fountain at the garden’s heart, morning sunlight shimmered off the stone carvings of suns and moons, casting soft patterns over us. I could feel her curiosity radiate as she moved in front of me, her graceful step stopping me in my tracks. With a narrow-eyed smile, she tilted her head. “Tell me, Sebastian,” she purred, “just what are you hiding in there?”

I met her gaze, fighting the grin that tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Patience, Luna. It’s a surprise for you and Celestia, and I’ll say no more.”

She huffed softly, though the smile playing on her lips showed her amusement. “You’ve become far too skilled at keeping things from me,” she mused. “Keeping secrets from me... you are lucky you have other redeeming qualities.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Such as?”

“Your resilience... and your devotion,” she said, her eyes glimmering with affection. “And the fact that you preen my wings so well.”

“Ah, so that’s what’s keeping me in your favor?” I teased, but my voice held a warmth that mirrored the growing sunrise.

Luna’s soft laugh brushed over me, sparking warmth I couldn’t ignore. “Hardly just that, my sweet apprentice. But let’s not ruin the suspense… I believe it’s your turn to be surprised.”

I opened my mouth to respond with some witty words, but the words were cut off when I felt her hoof ever so slowly traced down my chest. Even through my shirt, her touch sent a thrill through me, her closeness and the fire in her eyes clear as day. Yet, just as her lips were nearing mine, a soft sound broke through the moment — the quiet, steady clip-clop of hooves.

Glancing toward the sound, I saw Celestia approaching, her alabaster coat glowing in the morning’s early light, her serene expression complemented by the delicate colors of dawn cascading through her ethereal mane.

Luna took a small step back from me, her playful smile still present but her expression shifting to one of composure. “Good morning, sister,” she greeted, her voice calm and regal, though I could still sense the lingering amusement from our exchange.

Celestia’s eyes flicked between the two of us, her warm smile growing as she approached. “Good morning to you both,” she said, her voice light. “I trust you’ve been enjoying the dawn?”

I gave her a polite nod, still feeling the residual heat from Luna’s advances. “It’s been a peaceful morning so far.”

Luna shot me a quick glance, her eyes sparkling with unspoken mischief. “Indeed,” she added, her tone almost too innocent. “Very peaceful.”

Celestia tilted her head slightly, clearly sensing the undercurrent between us, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she looked at me with a curious smile. “Sebastian, you mentioned there was something you wanted to share with us?”

“Yes, there is,” I said, reaching into the Bag of Holding, my fingers brushing against the cool brass surface of the Sundial of Memory. As I lifted it out of the bag, and into the morning light. The polished metal of the enchanted gnomon gleamed, glowing with the subtle hum of latent magic.

Celestia’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. “A sundial?”

“Not just any sundial,” I explained, offering it to her with both hands. “This is the Sundial of Memory. It not only shows the time; it also displays memories. Just hold it steady and focus on a moment — the sundial will take it from there. But if you can’t think of anything specific, it’ll pick something meaningful on its own.”

Celestia took the sundial, her touch careful and reverent, her expression shifting from curiosity to a quiet, almost fragile anticipation. “A memory…”

“Go ahead,” I encouraged, stepping back to give her space to let the magic work, to let her sink into whatever memory she or the sundial chose.

Celestia held it for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she closed her eyes and seemed to search for something deep within herself. A soft breeze stirred around us, and I could feel the hum of the sundial’s magic growing faintly stronger. Then, as sunlight poured over the gnomon at just the right angle, an image began to form in the air above the sundial — soft and warm, like an old painting being brought to life.

In the golden light, two young mares stood on a rolling hillside under an endless blue sky with just a few fluffy clouds drifting lazily by. One was unmistakably a younger Celestia, her mane a soft pink with only a hint of shimmer, her laughter bright and carefree. Beside her, the other figure was undoubtedly Luna, her coat a lighter shade of blue, her mane a light azure that looked ordinary compared to the starry mass it would one day become. They were laughing, joy so clear and unrestrained on both their faces that it was impossible not to feel it.

I watched on as Celestia gazed at the memory, her expression softening as she observed her younger self. In the memory, Luna had pounced forward, laughing as she attempted to tackle her sister, who deftly sidestepped. The younger Celestia retaliated with a flurry of light magic, causing little glowing sparks to whirl around them like a swarm of fireflies. Luna squealed, mock-indignant, and leapt up to chase Celestia down the hill, their laughter echoing in the memory like a symphony from another time.

Celestia’s lips parted slightly, and I saw the tiniest glisten of tears gathering in her eyes. She stayed silent, her gaze lost in the memory that shimmered before us. In the vision, young Celestia finally allowed herself to be caught, and Luna tackled her to the ground in a fit of giggles, both of them collapsing into the grass. They lay there, side by side, gazing up at the sky with the open wonder only the young can afford. Luna leaned in, nudging her sister with her muzzle and saying something I couldn’t make out, but it made the youthful Celestia laugh — a soft, genuine sound that even in memory radiated joy.

After a few moments, the image dissolved, the magic in the sundial quieting as the memory dissolved back into the morning light. Celestia slowly lowered the sundial, her expression a blend of wonder and wistfulness.

“I had nearly forgotten that day,” she murmured, her voice soft and distant. “It was one of our last days of freedom before we were called to rule. We spent hours in those fields, just Lulu and I…”

I inclined my head, understanding the significance behind her words, even if I could never truly grasp the enormity of what it meant to be thrust into the role of a ruler — to lose days like that in exchange for the yoke of responsibility.

Celestia looked up, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you, Sebastian,” she said, her voice thick with unspoken emotions. “This is… a precious gift.”

I dipped my head. “I thought you might like it. And I thought…” I trailed off, glancing toward Luna, who was watching with her own silent smile. “I thought it would mean something to see those memories again. To remember what was, even if only for a moment.”

Celestia met her sister’s gaze, and in that shared look, an entire history passed between them — a tapestry of shared experiences, love, and sacrifices. Luna’s lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering as if the memory had pulled her back too.

After a moment, I cleared my throat, catching Luna’s attention. “Actually, I have one more thing,” I said, reaching into the Bag of Holding once more. This time, I pulled out a small, beautifully carved box. Moonstone inlays adorned the lid, catching the morning light with a quiet glow.

Luna’s eyebrow arched, curiosity igniting in her eyes as she glanced from the box to me. “And what might this be?” she asked, her tone almost playful.

I held the box out to her, letting my gaze meet hers. “Think of it… as a token of appreciation. For everything.”

Her usual confidence was tinged with quiet surprise, curiosity shimmering as she opened the box. The soft blue of her magic lifted the lid to reveal a folded letter resting atop a silver watch. She lifted the letter, her gaze drawn to the inked words as she began to read.

Celestia, standing a few steps away, watched us with a gentle, knowing smile, her presence respectfully unobtrusive. Though she didn’t say a word, her soft look made me feel a little less exposed, like she somehow understood the meaning behind this gift without ever even seeing what was tucked away inside the box.

Luna’s expression shifted as she read, her curiosity melting into something deeper, more vulnerable. The morning light caught her face, illuminating each small change — the way her eyes softened, a subtle intake of breath. Each line deepened the warmth in her gaze, rooting me in place, aware of how every word I’d written was now hers to keep.

The letter spoke of how much she’d given me — how, when I felt lost, she’d shown me the stars; when I was weak, she was my strength. I wrote of our countless nights beneath the heavens, her voice a guide to constellations that had become as familiar to me as her laughter. The dreams she’d inspired, the futures I glimpsed where we stood side by side, not as teacher and apprentice, but as something greater, with no need for titles. I told her how her laughter was a melody in my mind that I wish to never end, how her strength had kindled my own, and how, above all, she was my anchor in this world and my first true love.

As she reached the end of the letter, I noticed her swallow, her wings shifting ever so slightly as if to steady herself. She carefully folded the letter and returned it to the box before her gaze settled on the silver pocket watch beneath. With a glimmer of magic, she lifted the watch, turning it as her eyes traced the moon symbols engraved on its surface, the care I’d put into every detail.

She opened the watch, and a gentle ticking began, its rhythm steady and soothing. The dials turned to display the moon’s current phase, with past and future phases flowing in a seamless cycle of those that had come before, and those yet to come. Her eyes lingered there, her lips parting slightly as she pressed the small button on the side.

An ethereal dome unfurled around us, like a delicate veil of stardust, cocooning us in a familiar night sky. Constellations glimmered above, arranged in the patterns she’d taught me, their shapes exact, aligned across the dome’s surface. And at the heart of it all, the moon glowed softly, casting its light over the scene in perfect harmony with the morning sun.

Luna’s gaze softened, and in that stillness, her expression held something rare and beautiful — a tenderness as deep and infinite as the night sky itself. The dome faded slowly, leaving us bathed in the gentle light of dawn as she closed the watch with a soft click.

“Sebastian,” she murmured, her voice soft, mingling with the gentle rustle of the garden yet heavy with unspoken emotion. She closed the remaining distance between us, her hoof resting over my heart as warmth pulsed from her touch, her presence drawing closer still.

Her wing unfurled, its soft feathers brushing against my shoulder as she pulled me to her, bringing us so close that I could feel her breath — a subtle warmth against my skin. Her hoof slid up to my cheek, providing a comforting pressure that steadied me as her gaze locked onto mine, a gaze filled with an unguarded love that mere words could never hope to encompass.

Without hesitation, she leaned forward, her lips finding mine in a kiss both tender and enduring, a quiet melding of all we had shared and all yet to come.

The kiss deepened, her wings cocooning us in a sanctuary all our own, as if shielding me from the world beyond. She radiated warmth that banished any hint of the morning’s chill, her feathers caressing my arms with such softness that time itself seemed to fade away.

In her embrace, I felt complete.

Somehow, Luna found a way to bring us pressing closer. Her body melting against mine with a fervor that drew my focus wholly to her. The subtle rustling of her wings, the faint catch in her breath, became the only sounds worth hearing. I raised my hand to her cheek, brushing the soft fur there as I kissed her back, letting the intensity of the moment surge between us.

A soft, polite cough nearby pulled me back to reality. Reluctantly, I broke the kiss, meeting Celestia’s amused gaze.

Celestia stood a short distance away, her smile poised between amusement and warmth. “While I do appreciate such… enthusiasm,” she said, arching a graceful eyebrow, “remember, we’re still in the gardens. The public gardens.”

Luna straightened, her wings slowly folding back against her sides, though a playful gleam lingered in her eyes. She kept close, her hoof resting lightly on my shoulder as she cast a sideways glance at her sister. “If I didn’t know any better, sister, I would say you were the one embarrassed.”

Celestia chuckled softly, her eyes warm with sisterly patience. “Not at all, Luna — just respecting your privacy.” She gave us a gentle smile. “Though clearly, my presence is no hindrance.”

Luna’s hoof brushed along my arm as her focus returned to me, mischief dancing in her gaze. “Sebastian has a way of making me forget the world,” she murmured, her voice low, meant for my ears alone, yet holding enough warmth to stir something deep within. Her unguarded affections left me momentarily speechless.

Clearing my throat, I managed a slightly sheepish smile in Celestia’s direction. “Apologies, Celestia. I may have let the moment get the better of me.” My cheeks flushed, and I made no real effort to conceal it.

Celestia’s eyes glimmered with gentle humor as her smile grew. “Believe me, Sebastian, I’m well aware of how captivating my sister can be. You’re hardly the first to feel that way.”

Luna rolled her eyes, nudging me with a playful smirk. “Well, I certainly hope he’s the only one to feel quite this way, sister.”

Celestia raised her hooves in a gesture of mock surrender, her smile warm. “Of course, sister. I only meant that I understand.” Her attention returned to me, her expression softening in the morning light. “Sebastian, your gift — the Sundial of Memory — is precious. It’s a treasure, one that speaks of many beautiful moments. Thank you, for all it reveals and for the thought put behind it.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude. “It’s only a small token, really. A way to keep the memories close.”

Celestia’s gaze lingered, a quiet understanding passing between us that left me humbled. “Thank you, Sebastian,” she murmured, her voice weighted with appreciation.

Luna’s hoof stayed on my shoulder, her quiet smile conveying a tenderness beyond words. Her feathers brushed lightly against my arm, a subtle reminder of her affection, and I could feel the depth of our bond, somehow strengthened by the exchange.

With a soft throat-clear and one last warm smile, Celestia inclined her head. “I’ll leave you two to your morning. There are matters for me to attend to, and I have no doubt you two will make the most of your time together.”

Turning gracefully, she began her walk toward the castle, the Sundial held within her magical grasp. She cast a final glance back, her expression melting into one of profound fondness as she met Luna’s gaze — a silent exchange filled with the kind of affection only sisters shared. Then, with a parting smile, Celestia continued on, leaving us alone beneath the soft morning light.

Luna watched her sister depart, her touch lingering on my arm as though she, too, wasn’t ready to let the moment go. When she finally looked back at me, her expression softened further, sunlight catching in her eyes and giving her an ethereal, timeless beauty. Her wings folded at her sides, but her warmth remained, a quiet echo of our closeness.

After a pause, I glanced down at Promise, feeling the familiar comfort it brought. “Luna…” I began softly, “when I was with Noctra the other night at the Golden Horseshoe, she said something… unexpected.” I looked up, gauging Luna’s reaction as I continued. “She referred to me as your consort.”

Luna’s expression shifted subtly, amusement mingling with something warmer. “Did she, now?” Her hoof moved against my arm as her gaze held mine, her smile a flickering mix of pride and affection. “And how did you feel about that title?”

I hesitated, the word resonating in a way I hadn’t fully realized before. “It… caught me off guard, but it didn’t feel wrong.” My hand moved instinctively to Promise’s hilt, fingers tracing the crescent moon engraved there. “You entrusted me with this, and I promised to return. It’s more than just a sword — it’s a promise, just as you said. But hearing Noctra call me your consort made me wonder… about us. About what we mean in the eyes of others.”

Luna’s gaze softened, her wings adjusting in place as she stepped closer, allowing an intimacy that left little between us but shared breath. “Sebastian,” she murmured, her voice a quiet hum of ancient strength, “for my thestrals, the gift of Promise was not simply a gesture. It was a declaration, one I have never before granted. In giving you my blade, I gave you more than steel — I pledged a part of myself.” Her words held the weight of a thousand years of tradition and duty, each syllable carrying a resonance far deeper than speech alone. “To my thestrals, you are my consort, my chosen. And, in truth, that is exactly what you are to me.”

Her admission lingered, hanging like a note that refused to fade, carrying an intimacy that blended seamlessly into the morning calm. I felt warmth spread through me, a subtle but steady surge of something stronger than words, something that her gaze conveyed with every soft glimmer.

The promise within her words wasn’t new to us; it was simply one we’d been breathing, living, since our bond first began to deepen.

“I would bear that title,” I said softly, my hand finding her hoof and holding it, “in the eyes of your thestrals, and in yours. I would carry it with pride, whatever it means to them — and to you.” Her wing lifted slightly, the soft feathers brushing my shoulder as if in reassurance. “In a way, it already feels as if… it was always meant to be.”

Her hoof pressed against my hand, a gentle weight that felt both grounding and tender. “Then, my dear Sebastian,” she whispered, her voice rich with love, “know that in every way, you are mine, as I am yours.” Her words carried no hesitation, only the steady conviction that joined us together.

As Luna leaned in, her mane cascaded against my cheek, delicate and cool, her breath a whisper of warmth along my skin. Her nearness, the stillness between us, weighed on my senses, a magnetism that pulled me in ever deeper. I brought my hand to her chest, fingers tracing the faint scar just above her heart. Beneath that scar, her heartbeat pulsed, steady and strong, its rhythm a reminder of her resilience and presence. With each breath, each beat, she was here, solid and tangible in a way that felt both fragile and eternal, her scars weaving her past into this invaluable moment with me.

The morning held a chill, but the warmth between us was steady, a quiet, persistent flame that lit the spaces where words would only fall short. Her wings shifted, brushing lightly across my back as if to draw me ever nearer, and I let myself fall fully into her embrace, letting the world fall away beyond the soft confines of her feathers. She once more met me in a kiss, her lips soft and unhurried, each touch speaking of emotions best suited for actions rather than words.

I returned her kiss, letting myself sink into that great warmth, that assurance — the kind that went beyond vows and declarations. The title Noctra had spoken seemed trivial and irrelevant now; what truly mattered was here, in this moment, the shared love and understanding that connected us in a language only we knew. We didn’t need the world to validate what we knew to be real.

When we finally parted, her gaze lingered on mine, her eyes holding an affection that shimmered beneath her calm surface. “You’ve given me more than I ever expected, Sebastian,” she murmured, her hoof tracing along my arm in a gentle, almost reverent touch, one that felt like an extension of the moment we’d just shared.

I smiled, feeling a rare lightness in my chest. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?”

She nodded, her gaze bright with a promise of her own, the unspoken vow that bound us, stronger than words.

A gift better than any other.

Mira

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a deep violet light across the sky as the first stars began to make their appearance. My balcony door stood slightly ajar, granting passage for the evening breeze to drift in. A sigh of contentment escaped me as I settled into my workstation.

It felt good to begin the process of crafting again, especially something more towards the practical like a Necklace of Fireballs. This new one would replace the last, sacrificed during the slaying of the hydra of Froggy Bottom Bogg. The memory of Aldin flinging the entirety of the old Necklace towards the hydra and cooking the multi-headed dickhead flashed through my mind; the explosion that followed had saved the fillies, but my left shoulder had already been torn and ragged by the beast’s maw. I’d barely survived that encounter, but Luna’s gentle care had pieced my ravaged flesh back together. The scars that remained were only a small portion of everything that night had wrought.

The memories brought a sweet smile to my face.

I picked up a slim gold chain, utilizing a casting of Fireball to simultaneously enchant a bead with the spell’s explosive capacity, while attaching said bead to the chain. A subconscious glance at my left shoulder showed the pale, pink scars that rest there, almost entirely hidden under my shirt. As I worked, Aldin perched in his nest atop the nearby bookshelf, watching with an intent stare.

He hooted, the sound drawing my attention. “So, ‘Consort of the Night,’ how does it feel?”

The feathers around his head fluffed in an amused puff, his amber eyes wide and glowing faintly in the dim room. I shook my head and let out a little sigh, trying my best to ignore the heat I knew had reached my cheeks. To acknowledge my own embarrassment would only serve to feed into him more, but then again he can just feel it through our link anyways. Damnit.

“Oh, best-buddy,” I muttered, beginning the process of enchanting another bead. “It’s not that formal. It’s just a title.”

“Hmm, sure, sure, but isn’t that what makes it funnier?” he countered, his tone teasing. “Just imagine how the title sounds! It’s almost something important sounding. ‘Consort’.” He drew the word out in a dramatic, almost mocking mimicry of a noble accent. “Sebastian Hilam, ‘Consort of the Moon’. I wonder if I should start calling you that.”

“You’re welcome to try,” I replied dryly, though a small smirk pulled at my lips. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”

He fluffed up in pretend indignation. “Longer than you might think, Consort.”

I rolled my eyes, but Aldin’s teasing wasn’t entirely without merit. The term, even jokingly spoken, succeeded in stirring something within me — acceptance of the bond Luna and I shared.

I worked on, focusing on the next bead of gold, when Aldin’s talons scraped lightly against the edge of his nest. “You know,” he continued, voice dropping into a faux-serious tone, “I don’t think you’re ready for when the thestrals start calling you by it too. I bet Noctra’s already mentioned it to every single one of them in Canterlot.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I replied with a grin, securing another bead in place as I began to speak in exaggerated tones, “Probably told the whole Lunar Guard I dropped from the sky in a ball of fire and swore undying loyalty to Luna the night she returned from her banishment.”

Aldin gave a low whistle, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And the best part is: she’d only be exaggerating a little.”

“Enough out of you,” I murmured, unable to stop a smile from spreading across my face. “Keep it up, and you’ll be sleeping outside when winter fully sets in.”

Aldin ruffled his feathers in mock indignation but didn’t argue, his amusement satisfied him. I returned to the necklace, slipping into the familiar rhythm of crafting, the beads weaving through my fingers, each one holding a touch of the arcane. My Teashades of Night rested on my nose, enhancing the faint details under my room’s dim light, revealing every delicate thread and shimmer.

I was nearing the final bead when I noticed Aldin’s head swivel toward the bed. His posture stiffened, his wings tensing.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice dropping low as I followed his gaze. His attention was locked on something near the bed’s base, his feathers flattening as he leaned forward.

“There’s… something under your bed,” he murmured with a blend of curiosity and suspicion. He tilted his head, scanning the shadows.

Half-completed bead in hand, I leaned in and squinted to see what exactly he had spotted. The Teashades performed their task, and adjusted my eyesight to the darkness, bringing shapes to focus. There, nestled in the shadows, were two wide amber eyes, gleaming with a faintly familiar glow. A tiny muzzle peeked out, framed by a dark, sleek mane that fell over one eye.

Aldin clicked his beak, his feathers ruffling with a mixture of irritation and intrigue. “So,” he muttered lowly, thankfully only intelligible to me, “we’ve got ourselves a stowaway. And a cute one, at that.”

The eyes blinked, realizing she’d been spotted. A soft, high-pitched squeak escaped her, and she shrank back, pressing her tiny wings against her sides in a poor attempt to vanish back into the shadows.

I set the bead down before I took a second glance, the resemblance was undeniable. She was a thestral filly, her curious gaze betraying the stern look she was trying so hard to maintain. She couldn’t have been more than six years old, but even then, there was the unmistakable shine of determination in those wide, amber eyes.

“Hello there, little one,” I said gently, my tone calm as I leaned back slightly, hoping to coax her out. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

A small gasp came from under the bed as she shuffled a little closer, her eyes darting nervously between Aldin and I. If I had to guess, she was deciding whether to make a break for the cracked balcony door or face us. Her leathery wings flared briefly before she stepped forward, head held high in a dramatic attempt at dignity. She looked so serious — her little fangs peeking out in what I could only guess was her best attempt at looking intimidating.

It took everything in me to keep a straight face.

“I… I came to see you,” she announced, her voice trembling slightly with her determined shyness. “You’re the Consort of the Moon, aren’t you?”

Amusement flooded through our empathic link as Aldin broke into a hooting laugh, his feathers flaring as he puffed up with glee. “See?” he cackled in delight. “I told you! Even the little ones know! C-C-C—”

He couldn’t finish the title without breaking into another fit of laughter. It really wasn’t that funny.

I shot him a pointed look, my expression caught somewhere between exasperation and resignation. But Mira’s attention was fixed firmly on me, clearly awaiting my answer. I gave her a small smile, nodding. “Yes, I suppose I am. And who might you be?”

Her chest puffed up with youthful pride as she lifted her chin. “My name is Mira, daughter of Captain Noctra!” She punctuated the introduction with a little stomp of her hoof, mimicking her mother’s confident stance. “Mama says I’m too young to be in the guard yet, so I’m practicing.” She struck a determined pose, her small frame nearly trembling with the effort it took to maintain her serious expression. “I wanted to see you because… because you’re important to Princess Luna, and the others talk about you.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Aldin, who was still chuckling, but had managed to contain his laughter behind an outstretched wing.

“Well, Mira, I’m honored you wanted to see me.” I gave her a slight bow, which earned a soft gasp of delight as she tried to stifle an excited grin. “What have the others been saying about me?”

She glanced around, as if worried someone might overhear her, then took a few steps closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “They say you’re brave and powerful… and that you have an owl friend.” She nodded toward Aldin, her eyes widening as she studied him.

Aldin fluffed his feathers, regarding her with a playful glint in his eye. “That would be me. Familiar, partner, the better looking and smarter and overall better half of this arrangement—”

I cleared my throat, but Mira just looked more impressed, despite her inability to actually comprehend the drivel Aldin was spewing. “And… and you saved those fillies from the hydra! Mama says that was very noble, and Princess Luna is very proud of you.” Her expression softened a little, her stoic façade slipping just as quickly as it had come. “But she said you got hurt too… I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

I rested my hand over my shoulder instinctively, a smile tugging at my lips. “Thank you, Mira. That’s very kind of you. But don’t you worry, I’m doing much better now.”

Her serious little nod in response was adorable, as if she were the one here bestowing comfort and reassurance. She fidgeted, glancing around the room, her gaze falling on the nearly-finished necklace on my workstation.

“What’s that?” she asked, curiosity easily washing away her attempt at a serious expression.

“Ah, this little thing?” I picked up the unfinished Necklace of Fireballs, letting her see the delicate golden beads gleaming in the dim light. “It’s for emergencies — a bit of magic to help in dangerous situations. I’m making it just in case something like the hydra situation happens again.”

Her eyes widened in awe, her tiny wings fluttering with excitement. “So… it’s magic?”

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips as I noticed how enraptured she was at the mention of magic. “Yes. I could show you a little magic, if you’d like.”

Mira’s eyes sparkled, her attempts at a stern little expression left abandoned as she all but bounced in place. "Yes, please!" she whispered, as if she might break some sacred rule by showing too much excitement.

Aldin, perched by the edge of the workstation, turned his head and muttered to me, "She's practically quivering like a hatchling. Show her something good, Seb.”

Grinning, I raised my hand and began channeling the spell with measured motions of my right hand and a few whispered incantations. Prestidigitation was a simple cantrip, one of the first spells many wizards tend to learn, commonly used for practice, and difficult to cause harm with — perfect for showing off without risking a mess of unintended consequences. I made a swirling gesture, and a gentle breeze stirred through the room, causing the balcony door to open an inch and rustling Mira’s mane. Her eyes widened as if I’d summoned the very wind itself, her gaze fixed on my hand in awe.

“Here, watch closely,” I whispered, shaping the magic to perform a little more.

I willed a handful of glowing, translucent stars to appear, their light casting a soft blue shimmer over the walls. They floated gently, circling around Mira in a mesmerizing dance. I kept their shapes slightly wobbly, charming in their imperfection — an effect that seemed to add to the wonder in her eyes. She reached a hoof out tentatively, biting her lip in hesitation before allowing herself to poke one of the stars. It flickered slightly in response, sending a ripple through the small constellation, and Mira gasped, her eyes brighter than the stars themselves.

“Are they real?” she breathed, tilting her head as the stars drifted lazily around her.

“Not quite,” I replied with a soft chuckle. “They’ll only last for a short while. But for now, they’re more than real enough to enjoy.”

Mira looked at me, her mouth opening in surprise as I shifted my hand again, willing the stars to dissolve into sparkling mist. With another flick of my fingers, I colored the mist a warm gold, turning it into a tiny flurry of glittering snowflakes that fell gently around her, melting before they even touched the floor. Mira’s face lit up as she swirled around in that falling shimmer, giggling with unrestrained delight.

“It’s like a dream,” she murmured, watching the final snowflakes disappear. Her gaze returned to me, her expression suddenly intense. “Can… can I learn to do that? You don’t have a horn, and I… I don’t have one either.”

I noticed the way her eyes flickered to my forehead, then to her own. It was the look of someone who’d long been told what they couldn’t do, suddenly daring to imagine that they might be wrong.

"Who says you need a horn for magic?" I asked, keeping my tone light but letting her see the small smile in my eyes. "Magic comes in many forms, Mira. It’s not about what you have — it’s about finding your own path to it. And yes, I believe you could learn."

Mira’s excitement was almost tangible, her eyes practically glowing in the dim room. “Could you teach me?” she whispered, as if afraid the answer might shatter her budding hope.

Her question made me pause. Teaching… I’d never even considered that path, not until now. Mira’s gaze flickered between my hands and my face, that youthful spark of belief stirring something within me I couldn’t quite shake.

Could she learn to wield my kind of magic, without a horn?

It wasn’t impossible. If Nagas — who are basically just snakes with a humanoid head — can cast arcane spells, then surely ponies can. Perhaps hoof and wing gestures can substitute for finger and hand motions in the somatic components of spells. As I turned the thought over, I could almost see her, tracing a motion with a hoof or using the subtle movements of her wings in place of the intricate hand gestures that came so naturally to me.

With enough time and guidance, she would learn.

“Yes, I think it’s possible,” I replied, watching her face light up. "We’d need to modify some of the somatic gestures to work with hooves and wings. But theoretically, you could do it.”

Her eyes widened, and she glanced down at her wings, stretching one slightly as if trying to imagine herself casting spells with it. “Could you teach me, then?” she asked, barely containing the thrill in her voice. “Teach me to do magic like you do?”

I looked down at her, her expression so open, so trusting. She had a way of looking up at me that made it seem like I could do no wrong, like I could handle anything. But the truth… the truth was, I wasn’t so sure.

A heavy thought settled in, memories from weeks ago resurfacing like old wounds reopening. My presence here had set so many things in motion: the weakening of the Tree of Harmony, the shattering of the Elements, and — as far as I could tell — a chain of events that Equestria was never supposed to face. Could I really add Mira’s hopes and dreams to that list?

The burden I already carried felt almost too much as it was.

Taking a breath, I smiled down at her, forcing myself to keep the lingering doubts at bay. “Not yet,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But I promise, Mira, that when I’m ready to take on an apprentice, you’ll be the first I teach. You have my word.”

Aldin, who had been watching us with a certain quiet interest, ruffled his feathers and murmured, “See, now you’re making her promises. She’ll hold you to it, you know.”

I gave him a side glance, smirking slightly before returning my gaze to Mira. “And I always keep my promises,” I said, nodding towards Promise, which rested against the edge of my workstation, its polished pommel reflecting the soft moonlight. And just beside it, the Necklace of Fireballs — a reminder of what it meant to wield power responsibly, of what I could do if I pushed forward in spite of my lingering doubts.

Mira followed my gaze, her eyes catching on the blade, wide with admiration and curiosity. “I believe you,” she said, sounding far older than her years. Her tone held an unshakable confidence, as if I’d just granted her the most sacred of oaths.

A soft pause settled between us as her words hung in the air. “Well then,” I said, breaking the silence, “it’s getting late. Do you know the way back to your room, Mira?”

She blinked, and looked towards the door to the hall, her little brow creased as though she were peering down the corridor that branched off from my room. “Not really,” she admitted, ears lowering slightly, though her confidence remained. “The castle is… bigger than I thought.”

“It does tend to feel like a maze at times,” I agreed, motioning for her to walk beside me. “Let’s get you back before your mom realizes you’re missing. She’s not exactly one to appreciate a midnight adventure, I’d imagine.”

Mira nodded, trotting beside me as we stepped out into the hallway, the low-lit sconces casting dim pools of light. Aldin took his usual perch on my shoulder, his watchful eyes flicking between Mira and the path ahead. We walked in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“So,” I said after a while, glancing down at her. “How do you feel about living here? In the castle, I mean.”

She looked up at me, a bit surprised by the question, but her expression softened as she considered it. “It’s… strange,” she admitted slowly, her tone contemplative. “In Hollow Shades, everything feels… closer together.” Her gaze drifted, taking in the towering arches, the sprawling tapestries that lined the walls, and the open expanse of polished stone beneath our hooves. “There, the trees block out so much of the sky that it always feels like night. Even the air feels quieter.”

I nodded, trying to imagine the dense, shadowed woodland I’d read about — the Hollow Forest, where monsters lurked in the shadows and where few besides thestrals dared to roam. “Sounds like it would be easy to feel at home in a place like that.”

She nodded, a small, proud smile gracing her face. “It is. In Hollow Shades, every sound has meaning. The creaks of the trees, the tiny noises in the dark… they tell you what’s around. You know where to step and where to wait.” She looked up at me, her gaze sharp and assessing. “But here… it’s all so open. So many new places and smells and noises that don’t mean anything.”

I chuckled softly, nodding in understanding. “The castle can be confusing. Everything is grand and vague at the same time. But you’ll figure it out. Just like you did back home.”

She looked thoughtful, and I saw a glimmer of Noctra’s quiet strength in her expression. As we continued down the corridor, her gaze settled on the path ahead, but I could tell her mind was elsewhere, perhaps back among the familiar trees she’d left behind.

“Do the other thestrals talk about… all this?” I asked, gesturing casually at the castle around us with its vastness of echoing halls and stone walls.

Mira blinked, as though pulled from a distant thought. “They do,” she said, her voice low, as though she were sharing a secret. “They talk about you, too. And… what you did.”

“What I did?” I echoed, a bit puzzled.

She nodded, her eyes holding mine with a steadiness beyond her years. “They say you’re special to Princess Luna. Important to her.” She hesitated, as though weighing her words carefully. “That makes you important to us, too.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, a flicker of deference crossing her face, almost as if she saw me as someone of immense importance, someone who carried a title — a title I hadn’t fully come to terms with yet.

As we rounded a corner, two thestrals stood at attention by an intersection just ahead. Their armor caught the low light, silver glinting sharply as they turned, assessing us as we approached. They straightened almost immediately, lifting their hooves in a synchronized salute.

Much to my surprise, the gesture was directed at me.

I paused, a touch awkward beneath their salutes. Mira noticed my reaction, her expression flickering with a faint trace of amusement as I fumbled back a nod at the guards, a mix of honor and discomfort settling over me. As we continued past, I glanced down at her, and she seemed more interested in my response than in the guards themselves.

“Was that a new thing for you?” she asked, a small grin on display.

“Let’s say it doesn’t happen every day,” I replied, chuckling. “Seems like I still have a few things to get used to around here.”

She nodded knowingly, she as well understood the feeling of adjusting to something unfamiliar. I could almost picture her moving confidently through Hollow Forest, the dense shadows around her, the canopy high above, creatures lurking just beyond sight. It was a strange image, yet one that fit her somehow.

Seeming to sense my thoughts, Mira’s chest puffed up slightly as she trotted beside me. “The forest isn’t so dangerous if you know how to listen,” she spoke quietly. “But the guards here? The ones in yellow… they’re so loud.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Nothing like Hollow Shades.”

We continued down the corridor, Mira’s steps growing more purposeful as we approached a particular door — a dark, solid oak door marked with a silver plate. The plate gleamed faintly in the dim light, etched with Luna’s insignia and Noctra’s name. It was a small detail, but it set this door apart from the countless others, signifying it as the quarters for both mother and daughter.

Mira stopped before the door, looking up at it with a certain calm pride. “This is ours,” she said, her voice softened by something that sounded almost like wonder.

I looked down at her, smiling. “It fits you well.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. After a moment, she looked back at me. “Thank you… for asking. About Hollow Shades. Most ponies don’t.”

“What can I say?” I responded with a dash of levity in my voice. “I’m a curious guy.”

I raised my hand to knock on the door, but before my knuckles could connect, it swung open as if Noctra had sensed us standing there. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. Her silver armor glinted, a relic of Luna’s personal guard from ages long since passed, polished to a mirror-like sheen that highlighted the intensity of her eyes. She took in the sight before her — me, with Aldin perched calmly on my shoulder, and Mira by my side, looking paradoxically nervous yet calm at the same time.

"Sebastian," Noctra greeted with a crisp nod, her expression schooled into its usual composed mask. "I expected Mira to be in her room. I hadn’t realized..." Her gaze flicked to Mira, and for a brief second, the stern captain façade slipped. Mira's ears flattened a bit, her small hoof tracing a shy circle on the stone floor.

“I just… wanted to see him,” Mira said quietly, her voice steady despite her mother’s stern stare. “You talk about him a lot, and the others do too. And he’s…” She trailed off, glancing up at me with that same look of admiration from earlier. “He’s important to Princess Luna.”

Noctra took a measured breath, her sharp eyes scrutinizing Mira, her expression a blend of reprimand and reluctant affection. “You left without telling me,” she spoke in that low, sharp tone of reprimand. “That was reckless.”

Mira’s gaze locked onto the floor, her ears pressed down, but her voice remained firm. “I know, Mother. But… he’s really nice.”

At that, I couldn’t help a soft chuckle, which, for just a moment, seemed to relieve the tension between us. I knelt down, looking at Mira as she peeked up at me. “Your daughter’s a natural at navigating the castle. She managed to find her way to me just fine,” I said, hoping to smooth things over.

Noctra shook her head, but I caught a small glimmer of humor behind her otherwise stern expression. “She certainly has a knack for trouble,” she said, a note of dry amusement in her voice. She turned back to Mira, her gaze softening ever so slightly. “Next time, you tell me where you’re going. It’s easy to get lost in a new environment. Understood?”

“Yes, Mother,” Mira replied, the hint of a reluctant smile appearing as she shifted her weight.

Turning back to me, Noctra’s expression settled into its familiar, controlled look, though there was a subtle note of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you for bringing her back, Sebastian.”

“Anytime,” I replied, inclining my head. “Besides, Mira taught me more about Hollow Shades in one walk than any book I’ve read from the castle library.” Noctra’s eyes flickered with a touch of pride at the mention of her home, her gaze lingering on me for just a moment longer.

As Noctra guided Mira inside with a gentle, guiding hoof, the young thestral looked back at me, a small, mischievous grin on her face, pleased with herself. She gave me a final, approving nod before stepping through the doorway, casting a warm, lingering look over her shoulder as the door clicked shut.

I stood there for a moment, the echo of her words — the respect and wonder in her voice — hanging in the air. Mira had looked at me with trust and hope.

As I turned to make my way back, the halls seemed longer, their quiet shadows stretching over familiar paths that tonight felt somehow altered. The respect in Mira’s gaze, the Lunar Guards’ salutes — it was all sinking in, pressing with a weight I hadn’t anticipated. These thestrals, who had remained hidden for centuries, were starting to see me as more than just an outsider. They saw me as someone bound to Luna’s world, someone worthy of their trust and the honor they reserved for those close to her.

To Luna’s Consort.

The title had been meant to reflect my bond with her, but now it felt like something much heavier — an identity that others looked up to. My pace slowed, my thoughts tangling into doubts. What if, beneath the respect, they expected something more?

They’d be disappointed, wouldn’t they, if they knew the extent of my failings? That I was the reason for the Tree’s weakening, that my very presence had somehow destabilized the world from what it was meant to be. Discord’s return, the shattered Elements… none of that was supposed to happen this way. It felt like an endless string of errors I couldn’t hope to untangle, each one eroding whatever trust they might place in me.

The walls felt like they were closing in, shadows deepening with every step until I stopped, just shy of my room. A tight, uneasy knot twisted in my chest, bringing the familiar whispers of doubt — murmurs that gnawed at the edges of my mind, conjuring dark images of potential futures. Futures of battles lost, and fates altered because of my shortcomings. And it wasn’t just about me; it was about Luna, about the thestrals, about everyone who had suffered and everyone who will suffer due to my failings.

A voice broke the silence, sharp and dry. “You know, you don’t get any points for brooding in dark hallways,” Aldin’s familiar tone cut through the gloom, managing to be both wry and oddly steadying. “Maybe you’d feel better if you actually talked to someone.”

Luna. He meant Luna, of course.

The thought of her presence softened the tension a bit, loosening that knot by just a thread. More than once, she had been the one I sought out when the weight of doubt grew too heavy. She’d want me to come to her now, wouldn’t she?

“You’re right, Aldin,” I murmured, scrubbing a hand over my face as a reluctant chuckle slipped through. “Maybe you’re the wisest one here after all.”

Aldin clicked his beak in mock disdain. “Took you long enough to notice,” he quipped. “Now, you go talk to Luna. I’ve got my own business to attend to — like tipping over a potted plant or two.”

With a small salute of his wings, Aldin zipped down the hall, disappearing into the shadows as I lingered before my door. For a moment, I considered going inside. But the familiar space of my room felt hollow, lacking, especially against the pull of Luna’s presence upon my mind.

So instead, I turned and began the walk to her tower.

The halls stretched out in silent anticipation as I made my way toward the spiraling stairs, their chill seeping through the stone and brushing against my skin. Somehow, Aldin’s words had cleared away enough of the fog to reveal a clearer path beneath my feet, each step resonating with a newfound sense of purpose.

The silvery moonlight painted a quiet path across the floor, a soft glow framing her chamber door as I stood just outside. I raised my hand to knock, hesitated, then paused to listen. A gentle hum reached me — Luna’s voice, melodic and resonant, almost as if she were speaking to the stars themselves. The sound melted the last tendrils of doubt coiled inside me, and I tapped lightly on the door.

“Enter,” came her voice, warmth threading through even that single word.

I opened the door, stepping into a room awash in moonlight. Luna stood by the open doors leading to her balcony, her silhouette etched against the night sky, as though she were part of it. The constellations above seemed to weave around her, their light merging seamlessly with the ethereal shimmer of her mane, which flowed like a river of stars, blending into the night with a quiet grace.

"Sebastian," she greeted, her voice tender with a softness like moonlight. "I hoped I might see you tonight."

I gave a small nod, the weight I’d been carrying already beginning to lift under those eyes. Without a word, I stepped out onto the balcony beside her, letting the cool night air wash over me. Below, the lights of Canterlot spread like scattered stars beneath the moon’s gentle radiance, casting the city in shades of silver and blue that felt eternal.

Luna’s gaze settled on me, her eyes catching the starlight as she studied my face. “You wear that look again,” she murmured, a gentle tilt of her head. “The one that speaks of burdens unshared.”

Her perception cut through my hesitation, and I let out a long breath. “You see right through me,” I admitted, turning my gaze out over the city. “I hoped I’d left these doubts behind by now… but they cling, lingering. I hate that they follow me, even here.”

Her expression softened as she took a step closer, her presence steady and sure against the restless night air. “Sebastian,” she said, her tone gentle, though a steadfast strength underpinned each word. “There’s no shame in carrying burdens — even after a thousand years alone, I have yet to cast aside my own. Why would I ever expect you to do so with ease?”

Her words sank in, mingling with the quiet strength in her eyes. Hearing that she understood the burden of carrying those doubts — the fears that lingered and cast shadows over the brightest of days — made it all feel less isolating. I nodded, though the words I wanted to say were slow to come.

“I just… worry,” I confessed. “Worry that I’ll keep falling short. That whatever role I’m supposed to have here, whatever I’m meant to be to you, to Equestria… I’ll never be able to live up to it.”

Luna’s eyes remained unwavering, holding mine with a look that seemed to pull me back from the edge of doubt. “Sebastian,” she murmured, her voice both gentle and piercing, cutting through the noise of my doubts. “Every step you take, every choice you make — even every doubt you wrestle with — it all shapes you. No one here seeks perfection, neither I, nor the thestrals, nor anypony in Equestria.”

She lifted her head, her mane catching in the night breeze, flowing with an elegance that only seemed to enhance her presence. “Do you know why they look to you as they do? The thestrals, my subjects?” Her eyes seemed to hold mine with an intensity, willing me to hear the truth in her words. “They see in you someone who stands at my side, undeterred by shadows or doubts. They see a protector, a confidant, a friend to their princess. Be who you are, Sebastian — that alone is enough.”

The surety in her tone, the warmth in her gaze, slipped into the uncertain spaces within me, dissolving the tension that had clung there. I felt the quiet strength of her words settle deeply, something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing until now.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice carrying quiet sincerity. “Sometimes… it’s hard to remember that.”

Luna nodded, her gaze softening further. “Then let me remind you, as often as you need. You don’t walk this path alone.” She extended her wing, draping it gently across my shoulders. It was a simple gesture, and yet the comfort it brought was profound in its simplicity. “Lean on me whenever you feel uncertain. Together, we’ll find our way.”

I allowed the quiet to deepen between us, letting it settle like mist over still water. After a moment, I turned to her, a smile lifting the weight from my expression. “Speaking of reminders,” I murmured with a small chuckle, “I ran into Noctra’s daughter tonight. Mira.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across her features. "Ah, Mira,” she murmured, a knowing glint in her eyes. “So she has found her way to you already.”

"Under my bed, no less," I added, recalling her wide-eyed stare in the dim light, a rueful smile forming on my lips. "Turns out, Mira has a knack for sneaking around.”

Luna laughed, a warm sound that brightened the night. "Ah, a talent she has clearly inherited from her mother. The apple does not fall far from the tree, it seems."

“She certainly startled me,” I replied, unable to contain my amusement. “One moment, it was just Aldin and I at my desk, and the next, there was Mira, peering up at me like a tiny, wide-eyed shadow.”

Luna’s laughter echoed, her wings lifting slightly, reminiscent of a pony stretching. “I must admit, I find it amusing that even you, my formidable consort, are no match for a filly and her curiosity.”

I raised my hands in mock surrender. “It’s true! I can face any manner of monstrosity, but a curious child? That’s simply beyond me.”

Luna leaned in, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “Then it’s a good thing you have me to protect you from such dangers,” she teased, a glimmer of laughter dancing across her features.

A smile crept across my lips as I met her gaze, the night’s earlier tension melting into something warmer, softer. “You always have my back.”

“And I always will,” she replied, her voice low and earnest. She turned her attention to the horizon, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she closed her eyes, readying herself for the task ahead. The night was giving way to the first hints of dawn, the sky slowly lightening in the east as the stars began to fade.

I watched as her horn glowed, her expression shifting to serene concentration. I felt the familiar hum of her magic as it flowed, a quiet, steady power that reached beyond this world into the celestial heavens above. Slowly, the moon began to dip, its silvery glow fading as she guided it toward the horizon.

The sun crested, warming the eastern sky with the faintest brush of color, yet my gaze remained on Luna. Her mane shimmered softly in the dawn light, framing her with the last vestiges of night as she commanded the celestial dance with a grace that never ceased to leave me in awe. When the moon finally slipped from view, she opened her eyes and caught me watching.

“You do realize,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice, “that it’s considered impolite to stare.”

I smirked, unbothered. “When you’re doing something that beautiful, I’d argue it’s rude not to.”

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with that familiar, mysterious light. “Well then, I’ll forgive you… this once.” Her tone softened as she stepped closer, her wing brushing against my arm. “I’m glad you came here tonight, Sebastian. I’ve missed you.”

There was a quiet honesty in her words, a vulnerability that made my chest ache. “I missed you too,” I murmured, wrapping my arm around her, pulling her just a little closer. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

She sighed softly, leaning into the embrace. “In that case,” she said, her voice teasing once more, “you owe me.”

“Do I?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly do I owe you, Your Highness?”

“Cuddles,” she replied simply, a playful glint in her eye. “Several. You’ve been quite stingy with them lately.”

I laughed, warmth flooding through me. “Is that so?” I asked, feigning surprise. “And here I thought I was being generous.”

“Not nearly enough,” she said, nudging me lightly with her wing as she turned toward her chambers. “But I’m sure you’ll make up for it.”

With a final grin, I followed her inside, more than willing to pay my dues.

Impending

“I suppose it’s nice to see things when they’re peaceful,” I murmured, more to myself.

Aldin gave a soft hoot of agreement, his eyes sweeping the streets as though he too, was taking in the sights of the city. The lights of Canterlot were gentle beacons against the deepening twilight, and as we walked I could see thestrals beginning to emerge. It was strange, almost surreal, seeing these newcomers from Hollow Shades navigating the sprawling architecture of Canterlot, where everything was open and brightly colored, so different from what I imagined Hollow Shades to be like.

In the distance, I spotted a thestral family unpacking crates from a wagon near one of the castle’s side entrances. The parents were discussing something in hushed tones while their young colt clung to his mother’s side, his eyes wide as they darted between the statues, lamps, and the occasional pony passing by. He looked every bit the way I had felt when I first arrived — like someone trying to make sense of a world that felt entirely foreign.

A group of ponies walked by them, slowing as they passed, their gazes a mixture of curiosity and confusion. I couldn’t blame them. Thestrals had almost become creatures myths to most ponies; even here in Canterlot, they were still regarded with an air of mystery. A few of the thestrals eyed the ponies back, their slit-pupiled eyes watching with a cool reserve, not unkind but distant. Their silent communication, the way they moved together almost in sync — it was all so different, and that difference created a tension in the air, subtle but noticeable.

I understood that feeling. The thestrals were here for a new start, to pledge their loyalty to Luna once more, and yet... they were also entering a world that didn’t quite know how to accept them.

Aldin, ever the unbothered one, took off from my shoulder and flapped to a nearby lamppost, his eyes settling on me as if to say, Why not say something, then?

I sighed, aware of his unspoken encouragement, and approached the thestral family. The colt caught sight of me first, his eyes growing even wider as I drew nearer. His mother followed his gaze, her expression respectful but guarded as she dipped her head slightly. “Sir Consort,” she greeted quietly, her voice soft and almost musical.

“Please, just Sebastian,” I replied, offering a reassuring smile. “You’re settling in alright?”

The mother exchanged a glance with her partner, who gave a barely perceptible nod. “It’s... different,” she admitted, glancing around. “We’re more accustomed to the shadows, the safety of Hollow Shades’ trees. Here it’s... open.”

I nodded, understanding more than she might have realized. “It’s a bit overwhelming, I know. When I first arrived, I wasn’t sure where I belonged, either.” I glanced down at the foal, who was still staring up at me with a kind of wide-eyed fascination. “How about you? Are you getting used to all this?”

He blinked, startled, then nodded quickly, as if he didn’t want to disappoint. “Yes, Sir— um, Sebastian,” he stammered, his voice a shy whisper.

His mother’s gaze softened as she looked down at her son. “It’ll take some time, but we’re here to support Princess Luna. For her and for her Consort, we will find our place.”

I felt a pang at that — the dedication, the willingness to adapt for Luna’s sake, and for mine. The weight of expectations, of being her consort, of standing in this new position not only for Luna but for every thestral who now called Canterlot home, sank into me with that familiar heaviness. But I remembered Luna’s words, her assurance that being myself was enough. Still, the fear of failing them lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

I was about to say something more when Aldin swooped down, landing with a flourish beside me. He hooted at the foal, and he giggled, hiding his face behind his mother’s leg, a small smile breaking through his earlier shyness. Aldin had a way of doing that — cutting through the tension in a way I could never quite master.

Another group of ponies walked past, their eyes flicking between me and the thestrals, some murmuring quietly among themselves. It wasn’t overt, but I could see the discomfort there, the way they glanced away or gave a polite but distant nod. A few thestrals had noticed too, their expressions carefully blank as they carried on. One of them, an older stallion wearing the fresh armor of the Lunar Guard, paused to nod in my direction, his gaze steady.

“Sir Consort,” he greeted, his voice rough but warm.

“Good evening,” I replied, returning the nod.

The stallion’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, something almost appreciative in his eyes before he moved on, the others following him. Watching them go, I felt a mixture of pride and unease. They looked to me with such unwavering respect, as if I were a part of this ancient heritage they all held close. It was daunting, knowing they saw me as Luna’s choice, the one who walked beside her in the night. Part of me worried if I’d ever really belong in that role.

“You’re overthinking again,” Aldin muttered in his own owl-like way.

I gave him a rueful smile. “Can you blame me?”

He turned his head, a glint of dry amusement in his eyes. “Well, you could try something radical — like believing in yourself.”

I rolled my eyes, giving Aldin a mock scowl as we walked through the evening-bathed streets toward the castle. "That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one they look at like I have the solution to every problem they have."

Aldin fluffed his feathers, settling on my shoulder with an air of exaggerated wisdom. "Please. You’re the one who chose to fall for a princess, and now you’re the one stressing over what her ponies think. If I recall correctly, I wasn’t the one who dragged you into the whole ‘Consort’ thing."

“Technically, you were the one who led her to me when I was trying to stitch myself back together,” I countered, raising an eyebrow. “If anything, it’s your fault that any of this happened. The love confession, the title, the—”

“Oh, don’t even start,” Aldin interrupted, poking me with his beak. “I led her to you because I knew you two were overdue for that moment. Someone had to push you two oblivious lovebirds into realizing what everyone else already saw.”

I chuckled, nudging him lightly. “You mean you wanted me to stop throwing off emotions you had to deal with?”

Aldin let out a low hoot, his version of a laugh. "That’s definitely part of it. But, I’ll have you know, it wasn’t half as annoying as your continued, endless self-doubt. So I figured — help Luna out, help myself out, maybe you’d calm down a bit and stop sending out such distracting ‘I’m-in-love-but-I’m-too-stubborn-to-admit-it’ signals."

“So noble of you,” I said, chuckling. “The patience of an owl who apparently puts up with a lot.”

“Oh, I’d say I’m a saint, honestly,” he retorted with a mock-sigh, his feathers puffed up proudly. “After all, I sit through all the lovey-dovey nonsense you two put out. It’s a small miracle I’m not drowning in your saccharine emotions.”

“Saccharine, huh?” I smirked, shaking my head. “You don’t mind it nearly as much as you pretend to. Let’s be real here — you’re practically taking notes half the time, hoping one day you’ll figure out how to woo some feathered sweetheart of your own.”

Aldin let out a screech that sounded suspiciously like laughter. “Me? Wooing? Let’s not be ridiculous, Seb. I leave the ridiculous romantic speeches to you.” He gave my ear a teasing nip. “Besides, I’ve got you trained up pretty well for entertainment.”

“Oh, really?” I said, grinning as we neared the castle gates. “Because last I checked, I’m the one who keeps you fed and housed. That’s training, huh?”

“Training you to be properly grateful for my company,” he replied, unruffled. “And you’re welcome.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing under my breath as we walked through the castle grounds. “You’re the worst,” I muttered, but the lightness in my tone betrayed the fondness underneath. “All right, oh wise and all-knowing bird, where should we go next? Amplification practice in the sparring grounds?”

Aldin fluffed himself, his feathers glowing faintly in the evening light. “Finally, something I can actually enjoy! You’ve been holding out on me with all that gift making you’ve been up to. And if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll get to blow up something impressive.”

“Nothing says ‘practice’ like explosions,” I replied, shaking my head. “But hey, maybe I’ll work on improving my stamina pertaining to amplification. We can throw in some amplified Fireball spells, or maybe a few amplified Scorching Rays, or maybe an amplified Lightning Bolt, really make things interesting.”

Aldin gave an approving hoot, practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s what I like to hear. Let’s get to it, Sir Consort.”

I ignored his smug tone as we headed toward the sparring grounds, ready to put theory into practice. Amplifying spells was tricky, but with each night of practice it inched closer to becoming almost second nature. And, judging by Aldin’s excitement, he was more than ready to offer his 'support' — or, rather, watch in delight if anything happened to catch fire, or explode.

But when we reached the sparring grounds, the place was already buzzing with activity. Rows of thestral guards in fresh silver armor stood in formation, their voices carrying across the grounds as they practiced drills. Noctra was there, overseeing the training with her usual stern focus, her eyes catching even minor errors before she moved to correct.

Aldin clucked in mild disappointment. “Looks like our explosive night has to wait,” he grumbled, watching the guards.

I nodded, not wanting to disturb their training. “The library it is, then,” I said, sighing as we turned back.

“A quiet night in the library, without explosions…” Aldin gave me a dramatic sigh, clutching at my shirt with his talons. “Seb, you’re testing my patience.”

I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “You’ll survive. Besides, think of it as delayed gratification. We’ll get our turn soon enough.”

“Fine.” Aldin huffed, reluctantly settling onto my shoulder again. “But if I have to sit through another night of you reading some musty tome without anything to entertain me, I might start squawking. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I shook my head with a smirk. “Sure. You’re such a martyr, best-buddy.”

Aldin puffed himself up, as if he were about to deliver a grand speech. “Martyr, indeed! All the sacrifices I make — like enduring your self-doubt, your prolonged practices of magic and swords, and worst of all, your lack of any real sense of humor. No, I don’t count puns as ‘real humor’!” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a wonder I haven’t flown off to find a new wizard by now.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, raising an eyebrow as we walked through the marble-floored corridors. “As if any other wizard would be able to put up with you. I’ve heard you muttering to yourself about how good you have it here. Admit it, best-buddy, you’d miss me.”

Aldin squawked indignantly, feigning shock. “Miss you? Ha! What an ego, Seb. I’d miss the high-quality food and the palace. That’s about it. And maybe the explosions, but only because they’re… well, entertaining in the way watching you try to cook is entertaining.”

“Hey, I can cook,” I shot back, giving him a light nudge with my shoulder. “Just because I burnt a pot once—”

“Burnt a pot? Once?” Aldin scoffed, fluffing his feathers again. “That ‘one time’ nearly set the castle’s guards to panicking. I was convinced the smoke would never clear.”

“You’re being dramatic,” I said, rolling my eyes. “If anything, you should be grateful that I provide you with an endless stream of free entertainment.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m grateful all right,” Aldin said with a gleam in his eye. “Grateful to be here as your personal critic, entertainment director, and occasional fire manager.”

I chuckled, patting his side with a finger. “How generous of you, best-buddy. Truly, I’m in awe of your dedication.”

“You should be,” he replied with a smug little huff. “Just don’t expect me to sit by quietly if you start reading one of those dry, ten-volume spell theory tomes in the library tonight. I swear, if you crack open that Magic Treatise on Modern Spell Theory again—”

“Hey, I happen to find it interesting. Besides, I need to understand the theory if I want to keep improving my usage of amplification.”

Aldin made a groaning noise. “Improvement, sure, but I’d rather chew through the bindings of that book than listen to one more lecture on arcane ley lines. Even Luna looked bored the last time you started talking about it!”

“Right, because you’d know what bores Luna,” I said, amused. “This coming from the owl who sat through our lovey-dovey moments without making a peep.”

Aldin clacked his beak. “Sacrifice, remember? Martyrdom, and all that. I sit through those moments because I care.” He fluffed his wings, preening a feather with exaggerated importance. “And, maybe, because I know you’ll get all mushy about it and say I’m the best.”

“Well, you are the best,” I admitted with a smirk. “Though don’t let it go to your head. You might explode from smugness.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “A little praise now and then isn’t going to make me explode. I’m perfectly capable of handling it. Unlike you, who nearly combusts when Luna so much as glances in your direction.”

I shot him a sidelong glare, but couldn’t resist the small smile tugging at my mouth. “Yeah, well… some of us happen to have emotions, you know?”

“Oh, emotions!” Aldin threw a wing up dramatically. “How exhausting they must be for you. Perhaps you should leave them to the professionals.”

“Professionals, huh?” I chuckled as we rounded the corner, the ornate door of the castle library coming into view. “All right, professional, here we are. Ready to help me with some reading? Maybe a bit of scroll scribing?”

“Help?” Aldin scoffed. “I’ll observe, maybe critique. But don’t expect any actual help from me.”

“Fine by me,” I replied with a grin, hand reaching for the library door.

The library was dimly lit and cozy, an ideal setting for the late hours. The quiet that settled over the room felt oddly companionable, the soft glow from a pair of enchanted lamps casting warm pools of light across the table and shelves. I settled into one of the chairs, pulling a copy of Magic Treatise on Modern Spell Theory from a nearby shelf. Aldin hopped down to perch on the edge of the table, stretching his wings out lazily.

I flipped the heavy tome open, scanning through the introduction. “You know, you’re welcome to join me in learning something new instead of just complaining,” I teased.

Aldin’s eyelids drooped halfway, giving me a look of feigned agony. “Join you in reading about unicorn magic?” He made a show of yawning, his beak stretching wide. “No, thanks. The moment I feel my intelligence slipping, I’ll know you’re rubbing off on me.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Suit yourself. Just don’t interrupt me if you’re not going to contribute.”

True to form, he settled into a silent watchfulness, occasionally blinking sleepily as I dived deeper into the treatise. The book outlined complex theories on the manipulation of ley lines and the nuances of how unicorns shaped and directed magic through them. I made notes here and there, occasionally glancing at Aldin, who had started bobbing his head slightly, each movement slower than the last. Before long, he gave up entirely, closing his eyes and settling into a light sleep.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to my other task of the night. Carefully, I set out a blank scroll, my quill, and my ink. Tonight’s scroll: the Ice Spears spell. I could feel the familiar thrum of arcane energy building within me as I began to write, letting it seep carefully into the ink strokes.

The spell required a precision that didn’t come easily. I had to ensure the runes aligned just right, capturing the essence of ice without losing control of the arcane magic itself. Each symbol I inscribed on the parchment held a piece of the spell, and as they came together, I could almost feel the coldness of the ice spears crackling through the air, if only in anticipation.

A snort from Aldin broke my concentration, and I looked up to see him stirring slightly, his feathers ruffled as he adjusted his perch. “Still with me, best-buddy?” I murmured, half expecting no reply.

Aldin opened one eye, giving me a groggy look. “If this scribing business gets any more riveting, I might fall into a deeper sleep.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll actually be quiet then,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips.

“Touché,” he muttered, his eyes already closing again. Before long, his breathing evened out once more.

I returned to my work, the scratch of the quill and the smell of the ink becoming a kind of meditation. The library grew even quieter as the hours wore on, the soft shadows shifting with the passage of time. The spell was nearly complete; the last few runes glistened with icy blue energy, faint frost momentarily clinging to the edge of the scroll before disappearing into the paper, proof of the spell’s successful containment.

Just as I began to pack up my tools, the first light of dawn started filtering through the narrow window. Aldin, sensing the movement, shifted on his perch, grumbling something incoherent.

I had barely finished placing the Ice Spears scroll into my Bag of Holding when I heard the library door creak open. Turning, I saw Shining Armor step in, looking hesitant but determined, his usual confident demeanor tempered by an uncharacteristic nervousness. Aldin’s eye cracked open briefly before he fluffed himself up and settled back, his breathing slow and even.

“Sebastian,” he greeted, a bit quieter than usual, glancing around before he looked at me. His eyes shifted to Aldin briefly before resting on me again, and for the first time, he looked almost… hesitant.

“Shining.” I smiled, catching his unusually timid expression. “Everything all right? You look like you’re about to ask me to go on some impossible quest.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe not impossible… but, well, it is something pretty big.” He shifted his weight, glancing down, then back up, as if gathering his words. “Cadance and I… we’re getting married in a month.”

“Married?” I blinked, feeling a swell of surprise before I grinned. “About time! Congratulations!”

Shining’s smile widened, though the hint of nerves remained. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” He paused, taking a breath, and I sensed a question on the tip of his tongue.

“So, what’s up?” I prodded gently, watching his ears flicker as he worked up the courage.

“Well…” He took a deep breath. “Sebastian, would you… would you do me the honor of being my best stallion?”

I blinked, stunned for a moment. “Best stallion?” The meaning settled in, and a warmth spread through me at the thought. “Shining, I would be honored.”

The tension in his shoulders melted, and he let out a relieved laugh. “Thank Celestia, I thought for a second there you might have said no.”

I gave him a playful jab in the shoulder. “You think I’d say no to something like this? Don’t sell me short, Shining.”

He grinned sheepishly, his usual confidence returning. “I know, I know. It’s just that… it means a lot. Cadance and I were talking about it, and I realized that no one’s been there for me quite like you’ve been since you showed up. It’d feel wrong to have anyone else standing beside me.”

“Hey,” I said, voice a bit softer. “It’s my privilege.” I paused, glancing at Aldin, who was still asleep in his feathery bundle, blissfully oblivious. “And I’m sure this one will be thrilled too, assuming he doesn’t start snoring during the vows.”

Shining chuckled, his own gaze fond as he looked at Aldin. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He does have a knack for making an impression, doesn’t he?”

“Sometimes an impression, sometimes an impact,” I replied, smirking. “It varies.”

Shining shook his head with a smile, his eyes brighter now. “Anyway, I’ll let you get some rest. We’ll talk more about it soon, get you fitted and everything. There’ll be a bit of pomp and ceremony, but I think you’ll look good in royal wedding attire.”

“Pomp and ceremony?” I sighed with mock horror. “What have I gotten myself into?”

He laughed. “Trust me, you’ll manage.” He gave me one last pat on the shoulder before he headed for the door. “See you around, best stallion.”

I watched him leave, a strange feeling settling over me — a mix of pride, honor, and a bit of wonder that he’d thought of me for this. I glanced down at Aldin, who was still dozing away, blissfully unaware of the new responsibilities awaiting us.

Carefully, I lifted him from his perch, cradling him in the crook of my left arm. His small form settled comfortably against my chest, his breathing even and peaceful. Through our empathic link, a faint feeling of contentment radiated, warming me in a way that words couldn’t quite express. I smiled softly, letting the quiet happiness linger as I turned to make my way toward Luna’s tower.

There was no way I’d keep this kind of news from her.

Conspiracy

The atmosphere in the meeting hall felt weighted, a kind of tense silence thickening the air as we gathered around the long, polished table. The room, usually reserved for dignitaries and important diplomatic affairs, was elegantly subdued — tall arched windows ushered in the pale morning light that cast faint, stretching shadows across the hardwood floors. Yet, today, the room’s usual grandeur felt diminished under the shadow of the threat looming over us all.

At the head of the table sat Princess Celestia, her serene expression marred by a faint line of worry between her brows. Beside her, on her right, Luna sat with an intensity in her gaze, her eyes sharp as they scanned the room. I took my place next to Luna, feeling the weight of her presence and the calm vigilance she exuded. Across from us, Shining Armor and Cadance sat close together — Shining looking worn yet resolute, his polished armor doing little to mask the tension his posture threw off. Cadance clutched his hoof, her face reflecting a blend of worry and resolve as her gaze shifted between us all, lingering the longest on her groom.

Every so often, I noticed a flicker of something else in her eyes, a subtle unease that seemed out of place, perhaps stress was getting to her.

Standing between and behind Luna and I was Noctra, with her silent and watchful presence. Her amber eyes glowed faintly as they tracked each movement and expression in the room, unwavering in her vigilance. Aldin perched on my shoulder, unusually quiet, his gaze silently following each speaker intently. Through our bond, I could sense his alertness mirroring my own — a silent acknowledgment that this was no ordinary gathering, and that what lay ahead was uncharted and potentially dangerous territory.

Shining Armor cleared his throat, slicing through the dense silence. “We received the threat a few days ago. It’s vague, but the intent is clear. Whoever sent it means harm, specifically to Canterlot.” He paused, glancing at Cadance. “After careful consideration, we believe the best response is to erect a protective barrier around the city.”

Celestia inclined her head slightly, her voice calm yet probing. “A barrier? That would be… quite the undertaking.”

Shining nodded. “I know it’s not ideal, but Cadance suggested it, and we believe it’s the most effective way to protect everyone. The barrier will require focus, but it can shield Canterlot.”

Cadance looked at Celestia, her expression firm but with a glint of apprehension. “We can’t let this threat disrupt everything we’ve worked for,” her tone steadily urgent. “Shining is more than capable of maintaining the barrier. With it in place, we’ll be able to investigate this threat while keeping Canterlot safe, and the wedding can continue as planned.”

Celestia and Luna exchanged a look, one that reflected shared concern and caution. I felt Luna’s unease through the briefest tightening of her grip on my hand beneath the table. It was rare to see her this unsettled. I gave her hoof a reassuring squeeze, though I shared her doubts. Cadance’s insistence on pushing forward with the wedding despite this unspecified threat felt… strange. Forced, even. Although our encounters had been few in number, she always gave the impression of a mare who was kind and caring.

Today, she seemed unyielding, her gaze a touch too intense.

“Cadance,” I said carefully, “are you certain the wedding must go on? Perhaps it would be best to wait, at least until we have more information — hells, any information. Give me a few days and I’ll hunt down whatever this threat is myself.”

For a fraction of a second, her expression tightened before she forced a smile. “I understand your concern, Sebastian, but we’ve prepared for this wedding before you even arrived. Delaying it would be disappointing not only for us but for everypony in Canterlot.” Her smile held, but there was a faint strain to it. “Besides, Shining’s barrier is more than capable. It is his special talent, after all.”

Luna leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Princess Cadance, we all desire for the wedding to proceed without incident, but not at the expense of safety. This threat remains an enigma — we know nothing of its origin or its true intent.”

Cadance held her gaze for a moment before looking down, her voice softening. “I know it seems risky,” she admitted, “but Shiny and I have prepared for this. I… I feel this is the right way to handle it.”

Shining gave her a reassuring look, tightening his grip on her hoof. “I trust Cadance’s instincts,” he said firmly. “I know this is unconventional, but I believe she’s right. I can take care of the barrier. It’ll take focus and constant attention, but I can do it.”

Noctra, who had remained quiet throughout, finally spoke. “The Lunar Guard is prepared to offer its full support. We’ll increase patrols and maintain a heightened presence around the city.”

Celestia nodded. “Thank you, Captain Noctra. We must remain vigilant. Shining, if you’re focused on the barrier, there’s a possibility other areas may be left vulnerable. We should prepare additional defensive measures within the city to ensure we maintain comprehensive measures against this threat.”

Shining nodded. “Agreed. We’ll increase the Solar Guard’s presence as well, just in case. But with the barrier in place, I’m confident we can keep any direct threat at bay.”

As the discussion unfolded, I noticed Cadance’s gaze drifting from Shining to the rest of us, her jaw set tightly. The stress of wedding preparations must be weighing on her mind, alongside this new unknown threat, but I couldn’t ignore the unsettling feeling that something else lingered beneath the surface.

Aldin shifted slightly on my shoulder, breaking his silence with a low, muttered comment in my ear. “Feels like we’re putting all our eggs in one big, pink shield basket, doesn’t it?”

I gave a subtle nod, hiding a smirk. “You’re not wrong,” I murmured back, though Shining’s resolve — and Cadance’s strange insistence — held me back from pressing them further on the issue. It was evident how much this all meant to them, even if a nagging feeling warned me that something was off.

Celestia’s voice cut through, calm but resolute. “Shining, Cadance, if this is the course you have chosen, we will stand by you.”

Shining’s shoulders relaxed a fraction as he nodded, visibly relieved. “Thank you, Princess Celestia.”

Luna’s gaze met mine, her concern mirroring my own. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I knew we were both committed to keeping a close eye on things. We’d have to be vigilant, not just for the city, but for whatever strange undercurrents seemed to be in play.

As the meeting concluded, Cadance and Shining leaned into a quiet exchange, sharing soft words and looks of mutual understanding. Yet even in that moment of closeness, the nagging doubt in my mind refused to ease.

Luna leaned closer as we prepared to leave. “We will watch over them,” she whispered, her voice carrying gentle reassurance but a steely edge in her eyes. “Stay close, Sebastian.”

I nodded, letting her words settle over me, a comfort amid the mounting uncertainties. As the others filed out of the hall, she gave me a subtle look, nodding toward a quieter corridor that led deeper into the castle.

I understood immediately — she wanted to speak in private.

We moved silently through the winding corridors, Luna’s hooves making no sound against the stone floors. The silence stretched between us, dense yet not uncomfortable. I watched her as we walked, noting the thoughtful crease between her brows, the way her gaze stayed fixed forward, somehow both intense and unfocused at once.

Shining Armor’s recent behavior echoed in my mind, a gradual shift I couldn’t ignore. Days before, he’d become oddly withdrawn, almost distant, even declining my suggestion of a bachelor party. Normally, Shining’s focus and dedication were what defined him as a leader, but this… felt different, like his attention was locked onto something more important. And Cadance — her insistence on pressing forward with the wedding, her tense expressions — it all felt like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

I just couldn’t quite see the bigger picture.

Luna’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You feel it too, don’t you?” she murmured, glancing back as we rounded a corner.

I nodded, keeping my voice low. “Something’s wrong. Shining’s… I don’t know, he’s distant in a way I’ve never seen before. And Cadance… It can’t just be stress. I’ve never seen her act even remotely like this.”

Luna’s gaze darkened, her expression clouded with doubt. I recognized that look well by now — one she wore whenever shadows of her own past surfaced. “Celestia trusts Cadance,” she said slowly, “but I can’t shake this feeling. Something about her today is unsettling.”

We reached the library, and Luna pushed open the heavy oak door, leading me into the cozy, familiar space. Sunlight filtered through a high window, casting a warm glow across shelves stacked with ancient tomes. Luna’s horn ignited as she cast a series of wards around the room, the air filling with a subtle hum of magical energy. I recognized the wards as those meant to prevent spying, both magical and mundane. When she finished, she turned to face me, her expression solemn.

“Cadance’s behavior is… troubling,” Luna said, voice filled with wariness. “I may not know her as well as my sister, but I’ve always seen her as empathetic, compassionate. Today, she seemed different — her focus narrow, as if she saw nothing but her own goals.”

I met her gaze, our shared unease solidifying in the quiet of the library. “And Shining’s obsession with the barrier,” I added. “I get that it’s crucial for protecting Canterlot, but he’s so focused on it, he’s blocking out everything else.”

Luna’s brow furrowed in thought. “Could they be under some kind of influence?”

“It’s possible,” I said, the uncertainty settling uneasily in my chest. “I’d like to believe they aren't. But if they are… then the threat may be much closer than any of us realize.”

She nodded, though a flicker of doubt lingered in her gaze. I recognized that look — the weight of her own judgment bearing down on her, shadows of her past casting an unfortunately familiar veil over her confidence. She’d confided in me more than once about those lingering shadows, how the memory of her time as Nightmare Moon sometimes clouded her trust in herself. Gently, I reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Luna,” I said softly, drawing her gaze back to me, “you’ve earned the right to trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it’s worth listening to. Your judgment is sound.”

A faint, bittersweet smile crossed her lips, though the doubt in her eyes still remained. “I worry that my past taints my perception,” she murmured. “There was a time when I allowed envy to warp my view. I fear… it has left marks on more than just my heart.”

I shifted closer, my hand moving to the spot just above her heart where her deepest scar lay just beneath her fur, a hidden testament to her darkest days. I could feel the faint roughness beneath my fingers as she tensed, then slowly relaxed, a soft breath escaping her as she held my gaze. I’d touched this scar many times before, and I knew it meant the world to her that I wasn’t repelled by it, or by any part of herself or her past.

“You’re not that mare anymore,” I reminded her quietly, my voice steady. “And I trust you. If something feels off, then I believe you.”

She searched my face, seeking any hint of doubt. When she found none, her eyes softened, gratitude and love pooling in them. A tension seemed to lift from her shoulders, and she released a shaky breath, as if letting go of a burden that had clung to her.

“We will remain vigilant,” she said, her voice steady with confidence. “And… I will trust my sister’s wisdom regarding Cadance and Shining Armor. She’s guided them for years, and her wisdom has always exceeded mine.”

I offered her reassurance with a small smile. “And I’ll trust yours, Luna. Whatever we’re facing, we’ll figure it out.”

Her smile deepened, a quiet warmth settling between us that needed no words. Here, in the library’s quiet, with only the faint hum of her wards around us, the weight of all that uncertainty felt a little lighter.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Daily now, since the meeting, Aldin took to the skies. Each day and night he would tirelessly patrol the city and its numerous regions. He would skim the rooftops, the alleys, and the many concealed corners of Canterlot, his sharp eyes combing for anything even slightly out of place. And each time he returned empty-taloned, a flicker of frustration sparking through our link — a spark that mirrored my own discontent.

The only foreign presence in Canterlot seemed to be my own.

“Another empty search,” Aldin muttered one evening, landing on the arm of my chair in my room. His feathers were ruffled from the day’s effort, and he gave his wings a quick shake before setting about his preening. Despite his nonchalance, I felt the undercurrent of his irritation. A feeling I have grown far too accustomed to these past few days.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Same here. It feels like I’ve scoured every corner of the city, questioned and I’ve looked into anything even remotely out of the ordinary.” Leaning back, I stared up at the ceiling, as if the answer might be hiding in the stonework above. “Nothing. It’s like this threat doesn’t even exist.”

Aldin clicked his beak thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s playing the long game. Maybe it knows we’re looking, so it’s just… waiting. Waiting for us to let our guard down. Waiting for us to tire and slip up.”

The thought settled uncomfortably, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Shining had all but ordered me to focus on this hunt, going so far to insist I abandon my best stallion duties to further focus on this wild chase. He’d been so insistent, so eager for me to step back, that it bordered on pushing me away. I’d chalked it up to his dedication, his need to protect Canterlot — and by extension Cadance — at any cost, but the more I considered it, the more the pieces felt… wrong.

And then there were those fleeting moments when I’d catch a strange gleam in Shining’s eyes — a flash of… something that vanished the instant I looked too closely. I’d dismissed it as a side effect from maintaining the barrier, a spell that required immense concentration. But still, something didn’t sit right.

“Tomorrow, I’ll check the perimeter again,” I murmured, half to myself. “Maybe we missed something outside the barrier’s edge.”

“Good idea,” Aldin responded as he stopped his preening, fixing me with a sharp gaze. “But we both know this whole thing’s starting to smell rotten, Seb. Shining has made it clear that he wants you focused on this search — and only this search. Almost like he doesn’t want you anywhere near the wedding rehearsals or the castle.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s intentional?”

Aldin let out a low hoot, shifting his weight as he huffed. “Look, I know you and Shining have known each other since we arrived on Equis. But this obsession with keeping you chasing shadows through the city while he handles everything else? It reeks of manipulation. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s keeping you distracted on purpose.”

I mulled over Aldin's words, an uncomfortable knot of paranoia starting to tighten in my gut. Shining had never been one for subtlety or deception, but lately, he’d been almost… evasive. Insisting that I focus on this elusive threat, maintaining the barrier with a rigid intensity, and letting Cadance handle the wedding preparations alone. It was unlike him to keep me at arm’s length, especially at a moment like this.

I turned my attention towards my room’s balcony, taking in the faint purple hue cast by the barrier over Canterlot. It created a strange, quiet isolation, as though the city had been sealed off from the world. The shield itself began to feel wrong — not just in its presence but in the unnatural separation it cast, turning Canterlot into an island of sorts.

“I can’t shake the feeling that something is happening right under our noses,” I muttered, running a hand over my face. “If there is a threat, then it must be hiding in plain sight, somewhere we’re not thinking to look.”

Aldin gave a thoughtful hoot. “Or somewhere we’re being told not to look.”

The thought hit me, sharp as a dagger. Shining’s insistence that I remain vigilant on this search had kept me away from the wedding entirely. I hadn’t seen much of Cadance, or even spent time with Shining himself. And the last time I saw Cadance… she had brushed off my concerns, her normally warm and welcoming demeanor feeling strangely distant and cold.

“We’ve been focused on what’s outside the barrier,” I murmured, my skin prickling with unease. “But what if the threat is already here, within the barrier?”

Aldin nodded, his sharp eyes glinting. “Finally catching on, are we?”

My mind raced as everything started to fall into place, each subtle detail twisting into something far more sinister. Shining’s behavior, Cadance’s sudden shift in behavior — it all felt too deliberate. Like they were pieces of a puzzle I’d been looking at from the wrong angle.

But if the threat was inside, then what — or who — was the real danger?

Aldin shifted, his feathers puffed up against the tense silence. “So, what’s the plan?”

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. “We update Luna. Then we search the castle, talk to the guards, and see what we can find out — quietly. I don’t want to jump to conclusions about this, not without something solid to back it up. Shining is still my friend, and whatever is happening, it’s affecting him.”

Aldin gave a sharp nod, then with a quick flap of his wings, he landed on the bookshelf to watch over the city below. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled. If anything so much as twitches out of line, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks, best-buddy.” I cast a glance out at the sprawling cityscape, bathed in the ominous glow of the barrier. “I have a feeling things are going to get worse before they get better.”

But even with Aldin’s reassurances, the tension in my shoulders didn’t ease. He perched silently on the shelf, his sharp eyes scanning the city, while I sank into a chair, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I couldn't ignore the creeping sense of dread winding its way through my thoughts.

I rubbed my temples, remembering those early days in Canterlot. I’d been a complete stranger here, navigating an unfamiliar world with faces and customs I barely understood. Hells, it still feels like I'm barely beginning to scratch the surface of this world’s customs.

Back then, paranoia had been my constant companion. Every interaction with Celestia had felt like a potential trap, every smile possibly hiding a darker intention, and every kind gesture a calculated move. I had never been able to shake the feeling of being a pawn, pulled into a cosmic scheme beyond my understanding.

Aldin cocked his head at me, a spark of concern and curiosity winding through our link. His gaze softened slightly, his sarcastic edge tempered by a rare glimpse of empathy. He knew better than anyone how those memories weighed on me, and he could sense that they were clawing their way back to the surface now, bringing a wave of doubt I thought I’d long buried.

“It’s like a circle,” I murmured, half to myself and half to him. “Back to the start. Just when I thought I’d left all that… that doubt behind.”

Aldin clicked his beak thoughtfully, his amber eyes watching me with that infuriatingly patient stare that could burn through the strongest defenses. “You humans,” he said, his voice carrying the dry, biting tone that was becoming his trademark. “You all think fear is something you can ‘overcome.’ As if a predator doesn’t still feel hunger even when it’s well-fed.”

A faint smile touched my face. Leave it to Aldin to transform an existential struggle into something resembling a backhanded insult. “You know,” I said, leaning against the workstation’s edge, “when we first arrived here, back when I couldn’t even understand you. I still knew — somehow — that you understood me. Even then, you felt what I was feeling, what I was afraid of. I trusted you before I trusted anyone else.” A slow, wistful laugh escaped before I could contain it. “I was so caught up with watching my back. And every single day, I thought about how easy it would be for Celestia to manipulate me, to make me into another pawn to be used and discarded in her grand game. Sometimes I thought Luna might even have been part of that.”

Aldin gave a sharp hoot, his gaze hardening as he peered over the city outside the balcony. “And now? What do you think now?”

“Now?” I glanced out towards the shimmering shield surrounding the city. The words that came next felt foreign but somehow right. “Now… they’re my family. Luna, Celestia, Shining, Cadance, even Noctra and Mira. And you, of course.” I gave him a sidelong glance.

Aldin huffed, fluffing his feathers briefly, though the spark of humor in his gaze didn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, am I finally getting proper credit?”

“Don’t get used to it, best-buddy,” I said with a chuckle, though my thoughts drifted back to those early days of uncertainty. “Back then, all I could think about was the nightmares of that damn vrock demon, and of turning into Meridin — of somehow becoming like that prick.” The memory stirred something raw, a faint tremor in my voice. “It took Luna hammering it into my head to see that my path is my own; that I’m not here to play a role Celestia or anyone else crafted for me.”

Aldin’s eyes softened, though his tone remained blunt. “And yet, even now, you’re still afraid of falling into someone else’s game.” He tilted his head, his gaze uncomfortably perceptive. “But tell me, Seb — do you really think you’re the same person who walked into Canterlot all those months ago?”

I paused, his question lingering in the air.

“No,” I admitted, the realization sinking in. “Not even close.” And yet, despite that, the familiar tension coiled in my gut. “But that’s exactly what makes this worse. I hate this feeling of looking over my shoulder, of doubting those I care about.” I clenched my fists. “I don’t want to live like that again.”

“And yet, here you are, doing just that,” Aldin said, his tone infuriatingly smug. His eyes glittered, daring me to refute him.

I let out a dry laugh. “Point taken. But if I’m going to be suspicious, it’ll be to protect them. I can’t let whatever this threat is get close enough to hurt anyone.”

Aldin’s low, approving hoot echoed through the room. “Then stop obsessing over what you hate and fear, and focus on what you’ll do about it. Because if you’re not careful, this paranoia of yours will keep you from seeing what really matters.”

I turned my gaze back out to the city, taking in the shield’s faint glow as it cast shadows across the rooftops. The twilight outside felt thick and unnatural, like the calm before a storm. Yet, for the first time in days, I felt the faintest spark of clarity in Aldin’s words, like a candle in the dark.

“Thanks, best-buddy,” I said quietly. “I needed to hear that. No more looking over my shoulder. Just forward.”

Aldin gave a satisfied hoot, and I felt his encouragement, his fierce loyalty, intertwining with my resolve.

The fear hadn’t left; the tension still coiled deep within me, but with my best-buddy at my side, I knew it wouldn’t control me.

Cessation

The corridors of Canterlot Castle hummed with the sounds of frantic last-minute preparations. Servants bustled past, carrying all sorts of flowers and decorations, murmuring excitedly about the grand event soon to unfold. Somewhere beyond the walls, the muffled sounds of instruments being tuned could be heard, an orchestra readying itself for the impending ceremony.

Aldin perched on my shoulder, his talons gently grasping onto the fabric of my shirt as he scanned our surroundings. I adjusted the Teashades of Night on my nose, their violet lenses casting a slight tint over the world, though their real utility lay in bestowing darkvision to the user. I have long since grown accustomed to the violet hue of my shades, its constant presence was one of comfort amid this buzzing hive of activity.

"Luna said they’d likely be near the wedding preparations in the castle,” I murmured, glancing at Aldin. “Think we can manage to find them without Cadance or Shining noticing?"

Aldin let out a quiet, indignant hoot. "If they’re all as quiet as the yellow one, we should have no trouble,” he replied, his tone as dry as parchment.

I chuckled, imagining the whirlwind of energy that must have descended upon the castle with Twilight and her friends’ arrival. They had quickly crashed the Gala with their presence, hopefully they can contain their chaotic energy for a little bit longer. Noctra had mentioned seeing the whole group preparing for some last minute rehearsals and wedding prep, though the exact details of their arrival and location were muddled. Not unusual I supposed, with the chaos of the wedding alongside the barrier looming over all of Canterlot. That damned thing ensured I could never take my mind off of the unknown threat that hid somewhere both near, yet beyond sight.

We rounded another corner, passing a group of Solar Guards stationed at attention near one of the grand entrances to the main hall. My fingers brushed the pommel of Promise, a familiar weight at my side. Its dark, ornate scabbard and midnight-blue hilt were a welcomed reminder of Luna, a presence that connected me to her purpose and trust. It was more than a sword; it was a promise — a reminder of the responsibilities I’d accepted.

And for all of it, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

As we walked, I recalled the days leading up to this moment. Luna had cautiously supported my suspicions, though she was reluctant to cast too much scrutiny on the Solar Guard. Her trust in Celestia was unshakeable, but she didn’t have nearly the same level of trust towards Cadance. Still, she advised that we tread carefully. Yet I couldn’t shake the sense that Twilight, too, was feeling the weight of something beyond mere wedding jitters.

“We need to find Twilight Sparkle and her friends,” I said, moving down a corridor lined with tall, arched windows that cast soft golden light across the floor. “If anyone knows what’s going on, it would be her. Twilight is Shining’s sister, and no one except maybe Cadance herself would know him as well as her.”

Aldin voiced his agreement with a singular hoot.

The faint murmur of voices grew louder as we walked, mingling with the soft scent of freshly cut roses and peonies. Rounding another corner, we finally spotted them — Twilight’s friends gathered in one of the side rooms off the main hall. Rarity was meticulously adjusting a set of silk ribbons, her brow furrowed in concentration as she perfected a half-finished arrangement. Above her, Rainbow Dash hovered impatiently, trying her best to look as though she’d rather be anywhere else.

Fluttershy stood nearby, her gentle presence keeping a small flock of birds and other animals calm as they waited to join the ceremony. Pinkie Pie, as expected, was darting around with a bag of confetti, her grin as wide as ever. Applejack and Spike were overseeing a castle staff member arranging a small table brimming with apple-based refreshments for after the ceremony.

Yet, amidst all the activity, one pony was noticeably absent.

“Aldin, you’re seeing what I’m seeing?” I murmured, not bothering to hide the concern in my voice.

He gave a slow, wary hoot. “No Twilight.”

I took a steadying breath and approached Twilight’s friends, closing the gap with a friendly nod. They looked up in mild surprise but returned my greeting with warm smiles, though some were clearly frazzled — no doubt the effect of last-minute wedding chaos. Rainbow Dash, hovering a few feet off the ground, shot me a look full of her usual competitive energy.

“Hey, have any of you seen Twilight?” I asked, keeping my tone light. Curiosity laced my words, though I tried to keep it subtle.

Rarity was the first to respond, carefully setting aside the silk ribbons she’d been fussing over. “Well… no, actually. Not since…” She glanced around, and her friends’ expressions ranged from unease to what almost looked like regret. “It’s been a bit tense, darling. Twilight… well, she caused a bit of a scene with her… accusations.”

I blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Accusations? You all have been here for just a few hours… What the hell happened? Please, let this not be another Gala incident…"

Applejack sighed, adjusting her hat, her eyes shadowed with weariness. “She barged in on the weddin’ rehearsal earlier, accused Cadance of bein’ downright ‘evil.’ Said Cadance was actin’ mean, makin’ decisions all by herself, and somethin’ about her castin’ a spell on Shining Armor.” She scratched her head, her uncertainty plain. “But Shining stepped in right away. Said the spell was just for his headaches ‘cause of the shield he’s keepin’ up over the city. Things got a bit… heated after that.”

Fluttershy nodded, her quiet voice tinged with sadness. “Shining Armor… he was really hurt. He said that Twilight’s role as best mare was over and told her… maybe she shouldn’t even come to the wedding.”

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash cut in, forelegs crossed, her face a mix of irritation and surprise. “We all left with Shining to check on Cadance, make sure she was alright. Twilight was just… standing there. She looked so upset, but we were all so shocked.” She rubbed a hoof through her mane, glancing away. “We figured she’d be back by now, but… no sign of her anywhere.”

My mind whirled, trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t like Twilight. I may not know her that well, but rash to the point of causing a confrontation? And right before her own brother’s wedding? Something about it just didn’t add up, and the fact that none of them had seen her since left me uneasy.

Aldin, perched comfortably on my shoulder, shifted slightly, his talons pressing into my shirt as he murmured just loud enough for me to hear. “So, this ‘best mare’ of theirs might be stepping on your ‘best stallion’ title, huh? Guess you’re not so special after all.”

I shot him a look, stifling a smirk. “Oh, don’t worry, Aldin,” I muttered back. “I think I can handle Twilight stealing the spotlight… as long as I can figure out what’s going on.”

Pinkie Pie, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly bounced over, her wide, curious eyes fixed on me. “Have you seen Twilight?” she asked earnestly. “She hasn’t even come back for the sorry-we-left-you-behind cupcakes I made her!”

I shook my head. “No, I was hoping you all might know where she went.”

Beside me, Aldin narrowed his eyes, a glint of suspicion there that I shared. Something was off — more than simple wedding stress or misunderstandings. There was the strange tension surrounding Cadance, Shining Armor’s out-of-character behavior, and now Twilight’s unexpected disappearance.

To add the cherry on top: the wedding is set to commence in just an hour or two.

“Well,” Rarity said, her voice filled with concern, “if you do find her, please tell her we’d like to talk things through. Perhaps… clear the air a bit.”

I gave her a small nod. “If I run into her, I’ll pass it on. You all keep getting ready; I’ll have a look around.”

As I turned to leave, Aldin settled himself back on my shoulder, giving a low, thoughtful hoot. “So, this little wedding has more thorns than roses, huh?” he muttered. “Maybe we’re sniffing around in the wrong flower bed, Seb.”

I let out a quiet chuckle at Aldin’s jab, though my mind was focused on the task at hand. “Nothing about this wedding is going by the book, is it?” I murmured, rounding a corner and heading down a winding corridor. Ornate portraits of stern-faced ponies and vast, regal landscapes lined the walls, each torch flickering shadows across the polished stone floors, giving the corridor an eerie, almost haunted air.

A few paces later, I noticed two Solar Guards stationed by a side passage, their postures straight but their eyes betraying a hint of curiosity as I approached.

“Have either of you seen Twilight Sparkle around?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

One of the guards, a tall stallion with a sandy coat, shook his head. “Not since the rehearsal, sir. Heard there was… well, a bit of a scene, if you don’t mind me saying.” His partner gave a quick nod.

“Right. Thanks for the info.” I nodded, moving on. Aldin adjusted his talons on my shoulder, his grip subtly tightening.

A few steps down, I noticed a pair of Lunar Guards passing by, their silver armor blending with the corridor’s shadows. I raised a hand, stopping one of them — a thestral with a stoic expression and those faintly glowing amber eyes. Noctra’s troops were always disciplined, but there was a touch more tension in the way he looked at me than usual. Or perhaps it was simply just the undercurrent of anxiety rippling through the castle.

“Any sign of Twilight Sparkle?” I asked. The thestrals seemed to perk up a bit at the sight of me.

“No, Sir Consort. But there have been… disturbances reported near the east wing. Unusual activity,” he replied in a low voice, casting a quick glance around. “Could be nothing, but Lady Luna has sent Captain Noctra to look into it.”

I nodded, a sense of unease prickling at the edges of my thoughts. “Thanks.”

At my thanks, the pair saluted and returned to their route.

Aldin and I turned down another corridor, a quiet frustration taking root in my chest. This whole hunt felt like I was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. Aldin caught on to my mood, letting out a small scoff. “So, you’re going to fret over every tiny ‘disturbance’ in a castle this size? I thought we were looking for real trouble.”

“Something just… doesn’t add up, best-buddy,” I replied quietly. “Twilight doesn’t just vanish. And Cadance’s behavior, Shining’s… it’s all too coincidental, too perfectly timed.”

Aldin rolled his eyes but didn’t entirely hide the concern behind his usual cynicism. “Well, don’t expect me to play along with any wild theories. I’m just an owl, remember?”

I gave him a half-smile but kept my gaze scanning the hallways, alert for any sign of Twilight — or anything else out of place. “Uh-huh, so you’re ‘just an owl’ now?”

Before Aldin could respond with some witty response, a familiar voice called my name from further down the hall, an urgency to it that made my head snap up. “Sebastian?”

I looked back to see Luna standing a few feet away, her normally serene face shadowed by an uncharacteristic intensity that was usually reserved for our most intense of sparring matches. A flicker of relief washed over me, tempered by an unease I couldn’t quite shake. There was something off about her. Her posture, the way her eyes lingered on me — it wasn’t anything I could place, just a subtle feeling gnawing at the back of my mind.

Paranoia. Must be.

“Luna,” I greeted, keeping my tone steady. “Any sign of Twilight?”

She hesitated, just a beat too long, and that nagging feeling intensified. “No… no sign of Twilight,” she replied, her voice measured. “But I have found something else. I believe it could be the very threat we’ve been searching for.”

Aldin tilted his head, intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

I exhaled, a slight sense of relief breaking through the tension. “Good. This wild goose chase was starting to wear on me.”

Luna gestured down the corridor with one wing, her expression serious. “Follow me. It’s out by the city’s edge. We must hurry.”

I exchanged a glance with Aldin, who lifted a feathery eyebrow. “Well, if that’s not ominous, I don’t know what is.”

Taking a steadying breath, I nodded and fell into step behind Luna as she led us down a narrow side passage that twisted toward a hidden stairwell leading outside.

We moved swiftly through the castle’s stone corridors, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clink of Luna’s silver shoes against the floor. Something felt odd about her pace, though. It lacked the usual smooth, graceful rhythm I’d come to know, her steps almost… hurried, clumsy, and far louder than usual.

“Hey, Luna,” I started, trying to mask the unease in my tone, “any idea what exactly we’re dealing with? A magical creature? A spy? Something like an invisible stalker?”

She turned her head just enough for her gaze to flicker toward me, but her pace didn’t slow. “A hidden presence that has been eluding our guards,” she replied, her voice clipped, almost… unfamiliar. “It requires… a delicate approach. It’s easier to show you, than to tell you.”

Aldin ruffled his feathers, leaning in closer to mutter, “Odd, don’t you think? Normally, she’d fill you in without needing to be asked.” He let out a small hoot. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on her — keeping secrets and all.”

I shot him a look, but his words struck a chord. She was acting off, and the feeling in the back of my mind grew sharper, clawing at my instincts. I couldn’t shake the impression that something critical was slipping just out of reach.

As we neared the city’s outer walls, Luna led us down a rarely-used path that wound between looming buildings that threw off blankets of shadow. A chill breeze swept through the narrow alley, carrying with it the damp scent of rain and stone. It felt strange out here, like we’d wandered into some forgotten edge of Canterlot, far from the lights and warmth of the wedding’s festivities.

Far from anyone.

Luna pressed on, navigating the twisting alleyways without hesitation. Aldin’s talons dug slightly into my shoulder as he muttered, “I don’t know if this is an adventure or a bad decision.”

I cast a sideways glance at him. “Since when do you question my judgment?”

“Since you started understanding my genius,” he shot back, a spark of his usual dry humor undercut by a hint of unease.

I smirked, though it faded as Luna slowed, her gaze fixed ahead. We rounded another corner, where the alleyway narrowed to a shadowed end. The buildings loomed closer here, their rough stone walls darkened in the dim light.

“This is it,” Luna said as she gestured toward the shadowy alley before us, so dark was it that I couldn’t hope to see the end of it without my teashades. “The threat… it lies within.”

I stopped, letting my eyes drift between her and the dark length of path ahead. A tension twisted in my gut, sharp and insistent. I wanted to believe this was Luna. Needed to. But everything about her felt… wrong. Her scent, usually a calming mix of lavender and the cool night air, was faint — nearly absent entirely. And her usual grace was missing, replaced by a rigid urgency that sounded far more desperate than familiar.

Aldin shifted uneasily on my shoulder, sensing the turmoil churning within me. He turned his head, his eyes narrowing. “You sure about this, Seb?” he muttered. “Feels like we’re being herded into a trap.”

“Yeah,” I murmured back, glancing briefly at him before focusing again on the figure in front of me. “Yeah, it does.”

I took a step forward, but something in me resisted, an instinct urging me to stay put. “Luna,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could, “why don’t we fall back and get some reinforcements? If the threat’s cornered, there’s no need to go in alone. Noctra wouldn’t mind assisting.”

She shook her head, an unnatural insistence hardening her features. “There is no time. We must act now, or we risk losing our only chance.”

The words rang hollow, they felt scripted somehow, and that gnawing doubt only intensified. This wasn’t the Luna I knew — the one who trusted me, who would never ask me to rush headfirst into danger without reason.

Ignoring the chill in my spine, I stepped closer, close enough to reach out. My hand settled over her chest, in the place where her scar usually rested just above her heart — a touch that had become a quiet reassurance between us, a sign of familiarity, of trust and love.

But as my fingers brushed her coat, the last strand of hope within me snapped. My hand traced over smooth, flawless flesh where a scar should have been — no raised line, no familiar mark beneath my touch. A cold realization sank through me, twisting sharp and relentless in my chest.

This… this wasn’t her.

Aldin shifted on my shoulder, his weight pressing more heavily as he felt my distress. “Seb?” he murmured, his voice softened with an uncharacteristic edge of concern. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The truth was too stark, too jarring.

The words tangled in my throat, my mind reeling as I fought to accept what my hand had told me. This wasn’t her. Not my Luna, with her steady heart, her fierce strength, her eyes that whispered ‘I love you’ without the need of words. This was a hollow imitation, some insidious copy masquerading as her. My hand lingered a second too long, and Aldin tensed on my shoulder, noticing something I’d missed.

“Seb, heads up!” he hissed, his voice sharp and urgent.

An ear-splitting shattering sound resounded through the air high above us. My gaze shot upward. An enormous swarm of creatures poured from the sky, descending upon Shining’s shield and tearing through it like tissue. His magic flared, brilliant one moment and flickering the next, until it shattered in a wave of green-tinted light that fell over the city like tainted rain.

I barely had time to register the insect-like creatures with dark, chitinous bodies swarming down before a metallic flash caught my eye. In one brutal, fluid motion, ‘Luna’ pulled a small blade from beneath her peytral, its edge glinting wickedly.

Instinct took over, adrenaline slamming through me as I twisted away from her lunge, the blade slicing close. But she was too near, and I was caught off guard. Cold metal bit into my skin, carving a brutal line from the edge of my chin up across my cheek, tearing through my right brow.

Pain exploded across my face, searing like fire, blinding me as the blade’s vicious arc left my vision half-obscured and blood pouring down, warm and thick. The dagger’s kiss had rendered my right eye a ruined, bloody mess.

Aldin screeched, his wings flaring as he launched himself from my shoulder, a blur of feathers and fury. But the imposter didn’t flinch. She only grinned, predatory and unrestrained, her true nature shining malevolently in her eyes.

My heart twisted painfully as I met her gaze, that once-familiar face now twisted in a sickening imitation of Luna’s proud and loving expression. The thing before me wore her form like a mask, yet every glance, every movement reeked of something alien. But even knowing that, my body still hesitated, instincts warring with the raw pain lancing through my heart and face alike.

“Seb, don’t freeze up on me now!” Aldin’s voice rang clear and urgent above, but his warning barely broke through the haze in my mind. The real Luna would never… this couldn’t be her. But the face — every inch of her, down to the tiniest detail — mirrored her so perfectly.

At least, on the surface level.

She moved faster this time, dagger gleaming as she slashed toward my remaining good eye. My hesitation would cost me; I could feel it. But the thought of striking at her — of harming the one who’d become everything to me — held me back, even as my instincts screamed at me to defend myself.

“Sebastian!” Aldin’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent. I didn’t have time to look, every instinct screaming as I tapped into Shift. Reality blurred, and I blinked out of reach with only a heartbeat before her knife carved a vicious arc through the space where my head had once been.

I reappeared at her flank, adrenaline sharpening my focus. My hand closed around Promise’s hilt, the leather warm and worn against my palm, a reminder of oaths made and the one I fought for. This imposter had dared to wear Luna’s face, twisting her features into something cruel, mocking the grace of her form with a sneer that mirrored nothing of the true princess I knew.

It had dared to try to kill me wearing her face.

Rage erupted within me, searing through grief and betrayal. A roar tore from my throat, raw and unrestrained as I brought Promise around in a brutal, unyielding arc toward her neck. The blade sliced cleanly through flesh and muscle, crunching through bone with a visceral crack. Green blood sprayed out in a sudden, sickening burst, splattering the alley’s walls in slick, nauseating arcs as her head snapped back, eyes frozen in wide, horror-filled shock.

The blow left her head barely clinging to her neck, attached by a jagged strip of muscle and sinew. Her mouth hung open in a grotesque mask, a parody of surprise and agony that felt as twisted as the mocking likeness she wore.

She crumpled to the ground, the illusion shuddering, flickering as her lifeblood drained away in a puddle of green. I watched, breathless, as a burst of green flame rippled over her body, transforming Luna’s familiar form into something twisted and alien. Her skin morphed to black chitin, her mane into a neck fin of sorts, and the softness of her features melted into something insectile and vile.

Changeling.

For a moment, I just stood there, just trying to think. Promise felt heavy in my hand, green blood dripping from its edge. Then I looked down at my ruined Teashades of Night, damaged in the struggle, the right violet lens shattered from the stroke of the knife.

The shock and bitter anger still simmered beneath the surface, but I buried it, forcing myself to focus. One was dead, but with more of these creatures moving to attack the city, there wasn’t any time for self-pity. There’d be more lurking deeper in the alley, waiting for an ambush, judging by the one that had dared to mimic Luna. I wiped Promise’s blood-slicked blade on my sleeve and slid it back into its sheath. My hand dipped into the Bag of Holding, closing around the cool, familiar metal of the Necklace of Fireballs.

I pulled it free and turned to Aldin, holding it out. “Take this. We might need it soon,” I said, voice low. He took it without a word, his talons curling around the golden beads strung along the chain. His usual quips were absent, his golden eyes burning with the same grim determination that had settled into me.

With a brief incantation, I cast Mage Armor, feeling the invisible shield settle around me like a second skin. Even though I couldn’t see it, I could feel the tangible barrier, an almost imperceptible shift in the air around me, ready to absorb and deflect incoming attacks.

As I completed the spell, I felt a faint prickle of danger. My one good eye darted toward the darker end of the alley, and there they were — five changelings, their insectoid eyes glinting with hunger and malice. Two of them soared above the others, their wings buzzing sharply in the still morning air, while the other three charged on hoof, their strides quick and feral.

"Five of ‘em,” Aldin whispered, taking to the air to hover beside me, his gaze flicking toward the approaching bugs. “Think you got enough spark to handle that, Seb? Or should I get to chucking Fireballs?”

I didn’t answer — there was no need nor time. The incantation for Amplified Fireball was already forming in my mind, my hands beginning the precise, practiced motions. The familiar words rolled off my tongue, each syllable building a charge, weaving the arcane energies that would birth the ball of fire. My right hand flickered with heat as a tiny, pulsing bead of fire appeared at my fingertip, no larger than a pea. It began as a subdued orange-red, but with each passing beat of my heart, the flames grew hotter, swirling into a brilliant white intensity that threw sharp shadows along the alley walls.

The changelings closed in, their snarls filling the narrow space. They were nearly halfway to me when I completed the final motion, my finger flinging the compact sphere of flame forward, straight into their midst.

Time seemed to slow as the Amplified Fireball shot forward, streaking through the air before exploding in a blinding eruption of heat and force. The world filled with searing light as the white-hot flames roared outward, swallowing the five changelings in an instant. Their shrieks echoed down the alley, the sound cut short as the intense heat turned their bodies to ash, leaving nothing but charred remains scattered along the now blackened cobblestone.

The flames faded, the alley returning to the familiar shadows, now laced with smoke and the faint, acrid scent of burnt chitin. I took a deep breath, grounding myself as I reached down, my fingers closing around the shattered remains of my Teashades of Night. They had served me well, and their loss left a hollow ache within me.

I slipped the broken shades into my Bag of Holding, perhaps in time something may come from the remnants, but for now my focus is best served elsewhere.

Aldin’s wings beat softly beside me, his eyes sharp and alert. “So,” he said, his voice tense but steady. “Castle time?”

I was ready to answer when a sudden cry broke the stillness — desperate voices, not far away. I froze, my attention snapping toward the sound. The castle could wait; the ponies in trouble could not.

I gestured to Aldin, signaling him to follow as we moved away from the alley and toward the cries. We slipped through a narrow gap between two buildings, emerging into a small square where the scene before us was worse than I’d expected: a group of terrified ponies were huddled together, pressed back against the walls by a group of changelings. The creatures moved with chilling purpose, driving the ponies into a tighter space with slow, measured steps.

The ponies were being corralled.

Aldin let out a low hiss of disapproval. “They don’t waste time, do they?” he muttered.

He was right. I assessed the scene, searching for any potential way to take the shapeshifting-assholes by surprise, but luck was on our side. The changelings were clustered in a line — a formation chosen in order to better force their captives into a corner, but said formation was perfect for what I had in mind.

“Aldin, stay close,” I whispered, lifting my hand as I began to summon the crackling energy of a Lightning Bolt. The spell’s words came naturally, almost second nature, and the arcane symbols I traced burned in the air with an electric light. Energy surged through me, concentrating at my fingertips until the hairs on my arm stood on end, charged with raw power.

With a final utterance, I unleashed the bolt, a blinding stroke of electricity that erupted from my outstretched hand and shot toward the changelings. The bolt blazed through the air, striking the first changeling and instantly chaining through the line, the high-pitched crackling of electricity mingling with their shrieks. The force of it was like nothing else, their bodies serving as worthy conductors of my spell’s wrath, ripping through their bodies as if they were made of paper.

The Lightning Bolt blazed through the entire line, leaving a scorched path in its wake. The smell of ozone filled the square, mingling with the sharp scent of burning chitin and smoldering debris. The ponies gasped, backing away, their eyes wide with fear and awe as the last traces of lightning dissipated into the morning air.

All that remained of the changelings were blackened husks, still crackling with residual energy as they collapsed to the ground, the once-threatening figures reduced to nothing more than charred remains.

I lowered my hand, exhaling as the spell's power faded, and nodded to the ponies, who were slowly regaining their composure.

The ponies’ eyes darted between the smoldering remains of the changelings and me, a mix of relief and lingering fear written across their faces. I took a step forward, keeping my voice steady and firm.

“Listen to me,” I said, scanning their faces to make sure they understood the urgency. “Stay inside. Lock every door, every window, and don’t open them for anyone you don’t know. This city isn’t safe right now.”

One of them, a mare with a soft green coat and a trembling voice, stepped forward. “Thank you… thank you so much,” she stammered, her eyes flicking between me and the charred remains of the changelings. “If you hadn’t shown up…”

Her words echoed as the others murmured their thanks, their voices carrying a mix of awe and gratitude. But there was no time to linger, no time to bask in any form of praise or thanks. I simply nodded, urging them with a look and a wave of my hands, to go inside. They scattered quickly, hurrying to the nearest building and barricading themselves within, a few glancing back as they secured the doors.

They looked like they wanted me to stay with them.

Aldin shifted on my shoulder, his feathers settling as he looked at me. “Well, there goes your fan club,” he muttered with a hint of amusement, but I could sense the tension still simmering in him. “So, back to the heart of the madness?”

“Back to the castle,” I agreed, reaching into my mind to summon the image of where I needed to be.

I took a steadying breath and raised my hand, focusing on the spell’s familiar sensation. Teleporting into a potentially hostile situation wasn’t ideal, but with the city under attack and changelings everywhere, there wasn’t a much better option. I needed to reach Luna, Celestia, or even Noctra or Shining Armor… anyone really. I pictured the hallway just before the main hall of the castle that was serving as the wedding hall, visualizing the arching walls and the subtle floral scent that usually filled the corridor.

Someone important would be there, if not everyone.

With a flick of my wrist and a whispered incantation, the world around me vanished in a pulse of arcane energy. The alley flickered, replaced by the tall, silent walls of the castle hallway, the stone beneath my boots cool and steady as I materialized. The air here was thick with the scent of fire and burning wood, though I couldn’t see what lay beyond in the main hall.

The silence pressed down on me, broken only by distant echoes and the muffled sounds of struggle beyond the hallway. Aldin shifted on my shoulder, his feathers fluffed out, and I felt the weight of his concern echoing my own. Whatever was happening in the main hall was something we couldn’t ignore.

I began to move toward the heavy double doors that led to the wedding hall, just as a familiar figure emerged from a side passage — Noctra. Her expression was grave, amber eyes glowing with a kind of focus that only battle could bring. Green ichor stained her armored hooves, spattering up her legs like the remains of some violent skirmish. She glanced at me, her expression briefly showed concern at the sight of my wound. But just as quickly as that concern was shown, it was hidden behind a stoic mask of duty.

"Sebastian," she greeted, low and wary, her voice carrying the quiet urgency of a soldier on high alert. “There’s something going on in there.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a sudden, violent explosion ripped through the air. The doors to the wedding hall blew outward, splintering off their hinges with a force that rattled the walls and sent a pulse of raw, crackling energy through the corridor. Aldin screeched, his wings beating as he flared them instinctively.

Noctra and I shared a look, both of us steeling ourselves, before rushing forward and into the grand, shattered hall. And there, in the wreckage of what should’ve been a celebration, we saw her.

She was unlike anything I’d ever seen — a towering, insect-like figure, draped in an unnatural majesty, with a body both regal and monstrous. Black chitin glistened along her carapace, accentuated by twisted limbs and jagged edges, her mane an eerie green that seemed to resemble tattered silk. Her eyes, sharp and cruel, glowed with a poisonous green that seemed to pierce through everything around her. She stood over Celestia, who lay crumpled and reduced to unconsciousness at her hooves.

“What… is that?” Aldin breathed, barely a whisper.

I could only shake my head. I’d seen monstrous creatures before, even faced down beasts and otherworldly threats — but this?

This was something else entirely.

Noctra’s stance stiffened beside me. "We can’t leave her like that, Sebastian," she muttered, her eyes flicking between Chrysalis and Celestia. Her resolve was firm, but I could see the slight hesitation in her stance. Whatever she’d faced up to this point hadn’t prepared her for this.

"Get Celestia out of here,” I said quietly, my voice just low enough for her and Aldin to hear. “Find Luna. She’ll know what to do.”

Noctra’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as she opened her mouth to protest. "I can’t just leave you with… that… thing. Not alone."

I held her gaze, my voice firm, as I gave my first order. “Noctra, that’s an order. Besides, I have Aldin with me. I am not alone.”

A flicker of frustration crossed her features, her amber eyes flashing with defiance. But she respected my position as Luna’s Consort, so she relented. Noctra hesitated, but then she gave a begrudging nod, moving carefully around the large changeling, who seemed far too enthralled in her own victory to even care. Celestia, limp and unconscious, was scooped up onto Noctra’s back, and I could see the strain in Noctra’s movements as she adjusted to the princess’s weight. Injured or not, Celestia’s form carried an undeniable mass.

Somewhere deep in my mind, a thought escaped: the great cake exodus has finally come back to bite her.

I banished the thought just as quickly as it surfaced.

As Noctra started to retreat, I straightened, unsheathing Promise. The changeling’s gaze drifted over to me with a flicker of curiosity, as though only just now registering me as a threat worth noticing. Her lips twisted into a smile that was anything but kind, eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure that sent a shiver through me.

"Leaving so soon?" she taunted, her voice lilting, dripping with mockery. “I was hoping for a bit more company.”

I tightened my grip on Promise, the weight of the blade grounding me as I faced her. I had no idea who this changeling was, but her presence radiated an eerie malice that unsettled me more than I’d care to admit.

With exaggerated calm, she tilted her head, studying me with eyes that gleamed like polished jade. "Ah, there you are," she purred, as if amused by my mere existence. “And here I thought I’d disposed of all obstacles to my reign. How disappointing to see you’re still standing.”

Her words made little sense to me, though they hinted at something… intentional. My jaw tightened, and I forced myself to hold her gaze, despite the dull, throbbing ache of the fresh cut on my face. "Funny, I don’t remember you being invited to the wedding,” I replied, voice low. “Sorry, I have no idea who you are.”

Her laughter was cold, rolling through the ruined hall like the echoes of distant thunder. "Oh, you poor, oblivious creature.” She took a step closer, and I could see the faint traces of a fresh battle wound across her left flank, marring her otherwise unblemished chitin. “I am Chrysalis, queen of the changelings.” Her voice was a mixture of pride and venom, each word a declaration of dominance.

“Changelings,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.

Luna had mentioned them once in the early days of my apprenticeship, twisted, shapeshifting creatures that could mimic others and feed off emotions. But she’d made them sound like rare, elusive tricksters that stuck to the lands far outside of Equestria’s borders. I had wrongly written them off as a non-threat.

Another failure on my part.

Chrysalis's smirk deepened as she read the expression flicker across my face. “Yes, changelings,” she purred, delighting in the discomfort her presence seemed to cause. “And I know who you are, Sebastian. Your little exploits with Luna are hardly a secret.” Her expression soured slightly as she continued, “In fact, I was counting on you not being here.”

My pulse quickened at her words, but I kept my stance firm. “I don’t really care about your expectations,” I replied, letting some of my own defiance seep into my voice. “But if you thought I was just going to stand aside while you march in and… whatever this is? You’re sorely mistaken.”

Her laughter was sharp, almost cruel. “Stand aside?” she echoed, her tone dripping with mockery. “I didn’t intend for you to stand at all. It seems my changelings underestimated your… resilience.” Her eyes traced the line of the fresh wound on my face, lingering on the destroyed eye, and her smile widened, almost admiringly. “I sent some of my best to deal with you. Clearly, you’re more trouble than I anticipated.”

I swallowed the surge of anger that rose at her words. The twisted expression on her face told me she enjoyed watching the realization sink in — that this whole bloody assault had been her doing.

"Then why not finish the job yourself?" I asked, voice flat. "Or is gloating all you’re good at?"

Her chuckle was dark, predatory. “Oh, believe me, I considered it.” She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper that sent chills down my spine. “But why waste such potential? I may have a use for you, after all.”

“Use?” I echoed, my grip tightening on Promise, my desire to raise the blade and cut short whatever mad vision she was conjuring in her mind growing stronger by the second.

But, I needed her to talk. I needed her to waste as much time as possible, so that backup could arrive to assist in the slaying of this ‘queen’.

Chrysalis smiled, feigning patience. “Yes, use. It would be such a shame to kill someone with your talents. What if, instead, I offered you a place at my side?” Her eyes gleamed with false generosity as she continued, “You could serve as my little pet. Obedient, useful… and in return, I might allow you a glimpse of your dear Princess Luna every now and then. A small reward for good behavior.”

The audacity was staggering.

Aldin let out a disgusted hoot from my shoulder, mirroring the twist of revulsion in my gut. She seemed pleased by my reaction, as if the horror in my expression only fueled her satisfaction.

“Luna would never stand for that,” I said, forcing the words out, though my voice was taut. “And neither would I.”

Her expression darkened, impatience breaking through her calm. “Then you are just as foolish as I expected,” she said, her tone souring as she studied me with disdain. “Refuse, and you’ll share the fate of all who stand in my way.”

My heartbeat thundered, anger bubbling up through the pain and exhaustion. This monster had orchestrated this invasion, ordered the attack that left me half-blind, and now had the gall to offer me some twisted servitude as though I should be grateful.

I raised Promise, leveling the blade between us. “You’re right about one thing,” I said, voice cold and steely. “I am trouble. And if you think I’ll let you harm Luna, or Celestia, or anyone else, you’re about to find out just how much.”

Her eyes narrowed, the smile fading into a dangerous line as she straightened, her wings buzzing faintly in agitation. "You will regret this, Sebastian," she said, her voice low and filled with venom. "When your body lies broken, and your precious Luna weeps for the loss of yet another fool who thought they could defy me, remember that it was your own arrogance that sealed your fate."

The words dripped from her lips like acid, Chrysalis’s glare drilling into me as her words hung like a threat I’d soon be forced to answer. She shifted her stance, muscles coiled as if she were waiting to pounce.

Aldin let out a low hoot, his talons digging into my shoulder, mirroring my own readiness to act. With my vision limited to just my left eye, the hall felt far more confining than it should’ve been. I forced myself to breathe, steadying my grip on Promise. If she thought I was just some reckless fool, then I’d let her think that — for now.

With a subtle flick of my wrist, I whispered the incantation for Shield, feeling a rush of arcane energy surge down my arm as the invisible barrier materialized just above my left forearm. Its force was steady, familiar, and it lent me a small measure of comfort against the uncertainty ahead. I braced myself, the magic buzzing faintly around me.

Chrysalis’s sharp gaze took note of the spell, her eyes narrowing as if expecting something more. When nothing visibly changed, her lips twisted into another mocking smile. "What’s this? You think a flimsy little spell like that will save you?” She chuckled, the sound dark and grating, reverberating with her condescension. “How adorable. I expected something a little more… impressive from Luna’s so-called Consort.”

The words stung, but I held steady. Let her mock. Her arrogance might give me the opening I needed.

“Last chance, Sebastian,” she continued, voice dripping with scorn. “I could make this so much easier for you. Just drop that blade, bow, and accept your place at my hooves. I’ll even let you keep some scraps of your dignity.” Her smirk widened as she added, “For Luna’s sake, of course.”

A flicker of anger stirred in my chest. “I don’t kneel to cowards who hide behind deception and other people's faces.”

Chrysalis’s expression darkened, her lips pulling back to reveal sharp fangs. Her eyes blazed with cold fury as she leveled her horn at me. I tensed, sensing the buildup of magic around her, the air growing thick and charged. The mockery vanished from her gaze, replaced by lethal intent.

“Very well,” she hissed. “Die, then.”

In an instant, her horn erupted with a blinding green beam, surging toward me with deadly precision. I barely had a heartbeat to react. My feet pushed off the floor, throwing myself sideways just as the beam crackled past, close enough to scorch the air beside me. The intense heat seared my cheek, reminding me just how close it had come.

Without wasting a moment, I tapped into my Shift ability, focusing on a spot just behind her to my left. In a split-second, the world blurred and realigned, Shift pulling me through space until I was exactly where I intended, Aldin gripping tighter as he followed with me. We reappeared just beyond her vision.

Her focus remained on the spot where I'd just been, her green eyes narrowing with anger as she tried to understand where I’d gone. I only had a heartbeat’s opening, but that was enough. With Promise raised high, I closed the distance between us in two quick strides, bringing the blade around in a powerful arc aimed at the thin, exposed stretch of her neck.

She twisted, quicker than I’d anticipated. The wound on her flank left her movement a fraction slower than it might have been otherwise, but it wasn’t nearly enough of an edge. Before Promise could finish its deadly path, her magic flared, surging out from her jagged horn in a flash of sickly green. I barely registered the glow before I was caught in a vise-like hold, her magic wrapping around me, locking my limbs in place mid-swing.

“Oh, you really think I’d fall for that?” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You may have bested my lesser kin, but I am no mere drone, Sebastian.”

Her magic tightened, yanking me backward with brutal force, hurling me against the stone wall with enough force to send a set of silk ribbons tumbling down to the floor, and set my vision blurring. Pain exploded down my side as I collided with the unyielding surface, Promise clattering to the floor from the force of the throw. Stars flickered across my vision, the pain sharp and immediate, but before I could even process the injury, Aldin leapt into action.

“I’ll keep her busy, Seb!” Aldin’s wings flared as he soared above me, a bead of fire clutched in his talons from the Necklace of Fireballs. He tossed it in an arc toward her.

The bead hurtled through the air, followed swiftly by a second, then a third, each crackling with latent energy that flared into fire the moment it neared the changeling queen. Chrysalis turned, surprise flashing in her eyes as the first fireball blossomed toward her, flames searing through the space between them. Her magic flared again, throwing up a green-tinted barrier that absorbed the impacts of each fiery blast. One by one, the fireballs detonated against her shield, lighting the hall with bursts of orange and red, but none managed to break through her defenses.

Her mocking laughter echoed through the flames, her silhouette barely visible behind the barrier. “Is this it, Consort?” she taunted, her voice almost gleeful. “Parlor tricks and amateur spells?”

She was too focused on Aldin’s assault to notice me casting a spell I rarely used outside of lethal confrontations. The Summon Monster line of spells was powerful magic indeed. Powerful, ancient, and very much unpredictable, which was why I usually hesitated to turn to the spell.

Hesitation ran its course in an alley near the edge of Canterlot. Hesitation died along with the false Luna, along with my hopes for a peaceful resolution.

I whispered the invocation to Summon Monster V, picturing the ally I needed to turn the tide of this fight.

The air rippled beside me, crackling with energy as a figure began to materialize — a Bralani Azata, fierce and proud. His silver-white hair whipped about his face like the edge of a storm, his eyes alive with swirling colors, shimmering as if containing the power of lightning itself. He stood tall, a celestial warrior with a scimitar at his side and a longbow strapped across his back, his expression fierce and ready.

The Bralani’s gaze flicked over me, taking in my battered form and the blood dripping from my cheek. Without a word, he raised his hand, a soft glow emanating from his fingers as he placed them just above my shoulder. The magic pulsed, and a warm, soothing energy surged through me, knitting flesh and bone, easing the agony that throbbed from the impact of my earlier throw against the wall.

The relief was immediate, the worst of the damage undone, enough that I could breathe without feeling like my ribs were about to splinter apart.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice low, though I didn’t let my gaze linger.

The Bralani merely nodded, turning to face Chrysalis with an intensity that spoke of battle-hardened experience. He didn’t need an invitation; his hand moved to his scimitar, drawing the blade with a flourish that crackled with barely-contained storm energy.

Chrysalis’s laughter faded, her smug expression twisting with something more uncertain as she took in the new arrival. The confidence in her eyes faltered as the Bralani advanced on her, lightning dancing in his gaze and a strange combination of excited fury etched in every movement.

“Ready to dance?” The Bralani asked, every word a challenge and a threat in equal measure.

And for the first time, Chrysalis looked less assured, as though it was beginning to dawn on her that this wasn’t going to be the easy victory she’d thought it would be.

The Bralani squared his shoulders, his face adorned with a cocky expression. "Samir," he said, as if offering her his name were the only courtesy he'd allow. His scimitar gleamed, reflecting flickers of lightning that gathered around him in defiance of Chrysalis’s sickly green glow. "Remember it, cheese-legs. Not many get to see my splendor up close."

Her lip curled, the flicker of doubt evaporating as her earlier arrogance resurfaced. "Chrysalis," she sneered, as if her name alone carried the weight of power she wanted to flaunt. "Queen of the Changelings. Ruler of what was once Equestria.”

"Bold words for a bug,” Samir replied, launching himself forward, scimitar flashing in a deadly arc. Chrysalis barely sidestepped, hissing in irritation as her fresh wound slowed her retreat just enough to draw a narrow line of green ichor across her side.

I didn’t wait to see how she’d react. With Samir keeping her distracted, I quickly drew a scroll from my Bag of Holding, unrolling it with practiced ease and whispering the invocation written within. The air beside me rippled, and a golden light fluctuated in the ruined hall. From it emerged three tall, muscular figures with the heads of hounds — Hound Archons, their deep growls resonating in harmony as they took in the situation at hand.

Each Hound Archon gave a short, respectful bow to me before locking onto Chrysalis as their target, baring sharp teeth and brandishing polished greatswords nearly as long as they were tall.

I barely had time to breathe out a sigh of relief before Chrysalis lashed out, a lance of green magic spearing toward the closest Archon. He tried to dodge it, but the blast struck with such force and speed that he was instantly banished, his form dissolving back to his celestial plane before he even managed a step towards Chrysalis.

Samir’s laughter echoed through the chamber as he danced around Chrysalis, drawing her attention with swift, slashing blows that forced her to divide her focus. The remaining two Archons closed in, their greatswords raised as they charged her with the disciplined fury of warriors forged for battle. She spun, her green magic crackling, barely fending off each swing as she blocked and dodged with increasing desperation.

Seizing the chance, I pulled a Lightning Bolt scroll from my Bag of Holding. With the Archons and Samir immune to electricity, I could unleash it freely without worrying about collateral damage. Muttering the spell’s incantation, I held the scroll aloft, watching as a bright, jagged line of electricity arced toward Chrysalis.

She managed to twist just in time, her barrier catching the bolt with a hiss and crackle, but even as she dodged, Samir slipped past her guard, his scimitar grazing her chitinous hide with a shallow but precise slash. A small trickle of green ichor oozed from the wound, and Chrysalis’s face twisted with fury.

The wound had staggered her, if only for a moment. I didn’t wait for her to regain her footing — another Lightning Bolt scroll was already in my hands, and I quickly invoked the spell, feeling the power surge through me as the bolt tore across the chamber.

This time, she was too slow. The lightning struck her directly, wrapping her in arcs of blinding, crackling energy that lit up the room. Chrysalis screamed, a guttural roar of rage and pain that sent a shiver down my spine.

But in her fury, she gathered her magic, her eyes igniting in a brilliant, blazing green as she channeled an eruption of power. I had seconds to react as the spell built, her horn glowing with an intensity that almost hurt to look at.

The incantation spilled from my lips perfectly, and with a chopping motion, I cast Dispel Magic. I tried to interrupt the impending spell. I tried, and failed.

"Get down!" Aldin screeched from somewhere above me as the blast expanded outward in a ring of green energy.

The Archons took the brunt of the attack, their forms disintegrating under the assault, leaving only the faintest traces of light where they’d once stood. Samir managed to brace himself, the stormy energy around him flickering, but the blast still left him staggering, his form weakened and wavering.

Samir’s form shimmered as he struggled to hold his ground, the bright energy around him dimming, each flicker revealing a hint of the injuries weighing on him. Chrysalis sneered, watching as he gathered himself, her mocking expression radiating an almost amused malice.

With a wild grin, Samir wasn’t done yet. In a fluid motion, he drew his bow, the elegant curve of it snapping back as he pulled the string taut. Two arrows manifested from the very air itself, nocked and ready in an instant. He released them with a quick twang, sending both arrows speeding straight toward Chrysalis.

She didn’t even flinch. Her horn flared, and her magic seized the arrows mid-flight, halting them just inches from her chest. For a heartbeat, she held them there, spinning them tauntingly before sending them broken to the ground.

“Is that really all?” she drawled, her voice dripping with scorn.

Before Samir could react, Chrysalis fired a beam of green energy, its searing light cutting through the air. Samir barely had time to lift his scimitar in a final defiant stance before the beam struck him full force, skewering him through the chest. His form momentarily flickered, before it gave way to pure wind, and he was gone — returned to the celestial plane of Elysium, leaving nothing but a cool breeze and the faintest shimmer where he’d stood.

A wave of dread surged through the empathic link shared between Aldin and I, intensifying as I felt the sharp sting of fear radiating from him. For a second, I could feel his worry blending with my own desperation, and I knew he understood the stakes just as well as I did.

"No more playing around, Seb," Aldin’s voice came, urgent and grim. And then, with a sudden dive, he primed all of the beads of the Necklace of Fireballs held in his talon.

“Aldin — wait!”

But he was already soaring overhead, talons clutched around the necklace’s golden chain as he released it, sending every single bead hurtling toward Chrysalis. The world seemed to slow, the beads drifting down in a crawling, fiery cascade as she looked up, her eyes narrowing in contempt.

The necklace exploded, the entire chamber filling with searing heat and blinding light as flames burst outward in every direction, roaring with enough force to shake the walls and send debris raining from above. The force slammed into me, pressing me back even as I braced myself, the sheer heat blistering against my skin.

When the flames died down, the room was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of charred stone. I squinted through my left eye, breathless and scanning the wreckage, waiting for the dust to settle and reveal… hopefully nothing.

My heart pounded with a desperate hope. This was how the nine-headed hydra had fallen, consumed by fire in an instant, its roars dying to nothing. Only a charred mass of flesh had remained from that beast of hunger and rejuvenation.

Surely, she couldn’t have withstood that.

But as the smoke began to clear, a shadowed form became visible through the haze. Chrysalis stood there, untouched, a thin green barrier shimmering around her, already beginning to fade.

“No…” The word fell out, as the realization sank in.

Chrysalis smirked, her eyes alight with sadistic triumph. “You really thought it’d be that easy?”

In a single, fluid motion, she raised her horn, charging another spell. Aldin was still circling above, exposed — far too exposed. Before I could shout a word of warning or cast a spell, a lance of green magic shot from her horn, blazing through the air straight toward him.

“Aldin—”

The beam struck true.

The impact tore through the air like a thunderclap, and I felt it — a sharp, searing agony that sliced not through flesh, but through my heart, ripping into the link that tied Aldin to me. His emotions surged through the empathic link, a blinding flare of fear, then agony, and then… nothing. The connection snapped, a gaping silence hollowing out the place where he’d been.

A strangled noise escaped my throat, some twisted sound that I barely recognized. I’d felt pain and sorrow before, but this — this was worse, sharper, tearing straight through me in a way that nothing physical ever could.

My best-buddy was gone.

As the smoke dissipated, Chrysalis stood with a smug tilt to her head, savoring the moment as her gaze pierced through me with twisted amusement. “Oh, please, you can’t be mourning that miserable creature,” she sneered, every word sharpened with derision. “You really thought your little feathered friend would stand a chance against me? If you’d surrendered like any sensible creature would, your pet might still be here. But no, you had to push, and now... well, the fault lies with you, doesn’t it?”

I stumbled forward, barely able to do more than just breathe, my hand clenching so hard around Promise that I felt the edges of Luna’s crescent dig into my palm. Aldin’s last emotions still clawed at my chest, an echo of his final moments burned forever into my mind. A desperate, animalistic rage roared through me, louder than anything I’d ever known, drowning out the pain and grief behind a seething, white-hot fury.

Chrysalis looked down at me, her sneer widening as she raised her horn once more, as if preparing for another spell — this one no doubt meant for me.

The world blurred, my vision narrowing until all I could see was her smug, hateful face. I needed to hurt her, to destroy her, to show her that she wasn’t untouchable.

Acting on sheer instinct, I pulled every bit of magic I could feel within myself, ignoring the raw exhaustion and the pain that pulsed through me from the act of amplification. This wasn’t the time to hold back. I felt something shift within me, a dark, powerful current swelling, feeding off my hatred. I reached for the last Summon Monster spell within my mind, feeling the magic twist as I amplified it with unicorn magic, letting my rage shape the summoning.

The arcane symbols seared into my mind, twisting into something darker as the spell manifested, the air around me crackling with a primal, violent energy. I didn’t care what came through, as long as it would make her suffer.

A circle of visceral red light opened on the floor, expanding in a spiral of shadow and flame, until something began to materialize within it. A low, guttural growl rose from the depths, feathers rustling with an unnatural menace. A vulture-headed creature — massive, hulking, and radiating pure malice — took shape, talons carving marks into the stone floor as it flexed its immense wings.

A Vrock stood before me, a twisted blend of human-like muscles and demonic plumage, its red eyes gleaming with hunger and perfectly pure wrath. Its head jerked to face Chrysalis, who stared back, and for the first time, I saw the shadow of fear blanket her expression.

I gripped Promise, my voice easily slipping into the language of demons, Abyssal. “Kill.”

The Vrock’s red eyes blazed with gleeful malice as it let out a shrieking laugh, a sound that reverberated through the room. The laughter brought forth memories from my early days in Canterlot, memories of nightmares filled with slaughter and pain. The creature spread its massive wings, sending dust and scattered debris spiraling in all directions. Then it lunged forward with a speed that belied its bulk, talons and claws outstretched and razor-sharp, aimed directly for Chrysalis.

Her earlier smugness was long gone, and had morphed into something akin to desperation. She raised a shimmering green barrier around herself, catching the Vrock’s blows mere inches from her face. But even as she blocked, the force of the impact sent her staggering back, her hooves scraping noisily against the stone.

Chrysalis retaliated with a flare of magic, a shockwave of energy rippling from her horn, powerful enough to severely damage most creatures. But this wasn’t most creatures — this was a Vrock. The shockwave washed over the demon’s feathers, barely making it flinch. All Vrocks are demons born from the souls of wrathful mortals cast into the darkest layers of the Outer Rifts; her magic wouldn’t touch such a monstrosity so easily.

Seizing the opening, I brought a hand up and cast Fly on myself. A surge of energy flooded my limbs, and although my exhaustion remained like a weight pressing down on my bones, it no longer felt like it would drag me to the ground. I clenched my jaw, my hatred and determination pushing me onward, guiding me as I rose off the ground and maneuvered myself above Chrysalis. My vision tunneled through my left eye, locking onto her.

The Vrock tore into her shield, each swipe leaving cracks that she hurriedly mended, but her focus was stretched. She shot a burst of green fire from her horn, and the Vrock dodged, swooping out of her line of sight with a guttural snarl.

With a snarl of my own, I extended my free hand, summoning the searing heat of Scorching Ray. Flames pooled in my palm, solidifying into two rays of fire that cut through the air toward Chrysalis. The first one collided with her barrier, making her stumble back from the intensity, but her shield absorbed the brunt. The second ray managed to slip past her defenses, grazing her side and leaving a charred mark on her chitin.

She whipped around, green fire crackling in her eyes, but I was already casting again, another set of twin Scorching Rays hurtling down toward her. One ray hit its mark, striking her shoulder and singeing her mane, while the other slammed against her barrier, causing another series of cracks to spread through it.

The Vrock seized the moment, diving in with talons extended, forcing her to shift her attention back to the demon. But the monster wasn’t merely a distraction — it was wrath incarnate, claws and talons tearing at her shield, ripping through cracks and chunks of her magic until her defenses faltered further.

My breaths came in labored gasps, but I drew on every reserve I had, my exhaustion merely fuel to the rage coiling in my chest. I couldn’t afford to stop, not until she suffered for everything she’d taken from me. My hand surged with fire again, another set of Scorching Rays charging as I aimed directly for the opening the Vrock had created.

The first ray slipped through, slashing across her left flank, just above a fresh wound already there, her hiss of pain filling the air. The second one struck her shield again, but it was enough — the barrier wavered, faltering for the briefest moment as she scrambled to keep it together.

Her gaze turned on me, a dark and feral glint twisting her face into something hateful. I could sense her next move the instant before she made it, the build of power around her horn surging like a tidal wave. She wouldn’t play defense anymore; her target was me.

In a split second, a blinding beam of green magic tore through the air, far faster than I could dodge or use Shift thanks to my exhausted state. I felt it collide with my right arm — a hot, brutal force severing through flesh and bone in an instant. The pain hit me like a hammer, blinding and overwhelming, as my severed arm fell to the ground alongside Promise, blood pouring in hot rivers down my side.

I staggered in the air, barely managing to keep my focus on the Fly spell, my vision swimming.

The agony that surged through me felt as if I’d been set ablaze from the inside out. The laurel around my head pulsed, anchoring my mind just enough to keep me from blacking out completely. The Belt of Physical Perfection, my last lifeline against the waves of shock threatening to pull me under, seemed to cling tighter, infusing me with a strength that felt foreign — distant and detached from the pain.

But no amount of arcane magic could fully blunt the raw trauma that crashed over me.

I was falling, though I couldn’t remember when I’d stopped flying, my one good hand still fumbling, desperate to grasp at the air, at anything to steady myself. In moments, I found myself with my back against the cold, unforgiving stone, slumped as though every muscle had lost its will to resist. Promise lay just beyond reach, its polished blade gleaming under the dim light, mocking me with its nearness. My blood pooled around it, a morbid, sanguine reminder of everything I was losing — every precious second that slipped by, each beat of my heart a cruel metronome of my dwindling strength.

The world blurred, my vision a chaotic dance of green magic and clashing shadows. I blinked hard, trying to clear the fog settling over my mind, but all I managed to do was focus on the Vrock. It fought on without me, each savage swipe of its talons more brutal than the last, a frenzy that had matched my own just mere moments ago. It shrieked, lunging at Chrysalis, forcing her to stay on the defensive, her shield buckling in places only to reform as she poured her magic into it.

Chrysalis’s horn glowed, a venomous green brighter than anything I’d seen from her before, casting a sickly hue across her dark features. She snarled, catching the Vrock’s talon mid-swipe with a wall of raw magic, a pulse of energy surging outward. The Vrock reeled back, momentarily stunned, and in that instant, she struck.

With a swift, unyielding movement, Chrysalis plunged her horn deep into the demon’s chest, piercing through feathers and sinew alike. The Vrock let out a bloodcurdling scream, a sound so vile and full of rage that it clawed at my mind, vibrating through the stone walls.

Chrysalis held her ground, her horn embedded in the demon as her magic flooded into it, forcing dark, jagged pulses of green magical energy into the creature's very core. The Vrock convulsed, its body writhing in agony as the green glow spread like cracks in a broken mirror, until with one final shudder, its form disintegrated into shreds of dark energy, dissolving into the air, leaving only a faint stench of sulfur behind.

And just like that, the demon of wrath was gone, banished back to the hell-hole known as the Abyss.

My vision darkened at the edges, narrowing to the shape of Chrysalis standing amidst the chaos, triumphant. The reality of it all settled in, a pit in my chest opening wide. Every attempt to move felt heavier than the last, each breath a reminder of the toll taken. I fought against it, struggling to focus, refusing to slip into the darkness that called to me.

But the blood kept flowing, and the pain was relentless, sharp as shards of glass grinding deeper with every heartbeat. Chrysalis stood over me now, her triumphant gaze gleaming with a mixture of hunger and amusement as she watched my struggle. She took a step closer, her hooves echoing hollowly on the stone as she surveyed the broken remains of my arm, the blood seeping from my wounds, and my fading strength.

"Poor little thing," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "So loyal, so fierce... yet so very foolish." Her grin stretched wider, her eyes gleaming with a sharp, cruel delight. “Look at you now. Is this the heroic end your beloved Luna envisioned for you?" She tilted her head, relishing the taunt. "Or did she even care enough to notice?"

The words seared through me more sharply than any wound. I struggled to rise, to do something — anything — to wipe that smug look off her face, but my body was steeped in a rebellion of pain and numbness. My limbs reduced to an immovable weight against the stone beneath me. All I could manage was a glare, a single, defiant eye focused on her, while my vision blurred, and shadows flickered at the edges.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she purred, noticing the spark of resistance still left in me. “We’re not quite done, you and I. There's something... savory here, something I tasted in that fool Shining Armor.” Her eyes gleamed with hunger as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Your love for Luna, of course. So fierce. So hopelessly devoted.”

I shuddered, a flicker of adrenaline pushed back the fog of shock just enough for the truth to sink in. She could sense it, feel the depth of everything I felt for Luna — the quiet moments under starlit skies, the comfort of her presence, the vulnerability we’d shared. And I could see the greed in her eyes, the way my love for Luna seemed to fill her with a renewed vigor, a twisted delight.

"That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?” she murmured, eyes searching me slowly, savoring each syllable. “You foolish, helpless creatures. You give your hearts so easily, thinking love makes you stronger. But in the end, it’s nothing more than a leash. And now," she laughed, leaning in so close I could feel her breath against my skin, “it’s mine.”

In a flash of green flame that cast sickly shadows across the walls, her form shifted, warping, twisting. The hard angles of her features softened, her mane shifted, darkening and lengthening into flowing waves like the night sky itself, speckled with constellations that matched Luna's mane perfectly. Her eyes, once slitted and sharp, rounded into Luna’s cyan eyes, full of that familiar intensity that I’d come to cherish. Her wings dissolved into majestic feathers, her body into the graceful form I’d seen so many times.

And there she stood — Luna’s image, perfect down to the silver shoes and the dark crown upon her head. My heart clenched painfully, the vision before me paradoxically a balm and a torment.

But it wasn’t her. It could never be her.

Chrysalis smiled with Luna's lips, a twisted mockery of the tenderness I’d seen in those eyes so many times before. “Come now,” she whispered in a voice that sounded so painfully like Luna’s, “let me savor what you so willingly offer."

As Chrysalis leaned closer, her horn glowing with a sickly green aura, I felt a cold pull inside me, a sensation that twisted in my chest, colder and emptier than any physical pain. My vision blurred, and it felt like she was tearing through me, as if every memory, every heartbeat, every promise I’d held for Luna was being ripped away.

Images of Luna swam before me, fierce and fragile, moments flickering by in flashes — her laughter as she teased me during a sparring session, the way her lips curved into a genuine, gentle smile, and the quiet night we traced the constellations together.

The memory of her stitching my torn shoulder lingered, her magic’s touch so tender, even as she bore scars of her own. I remembered the pain, but more vividly, I remembered her unwavering presence — how she stayed at my side, sharing pieces of herself she’d never shared with another. The confession of love, soft and heartfelt, shaped in the vulnerable honesty of her voice, in that first kiss we shared.

Chrysalis drank it all in, pulling each memory like threads, unraveling everything I held dear. She whispered again in Luna’s voice, savoring my torment. “Oh, Sebastian,” she purred, Luna’s tones laced with Chrysalis’s malice. “Did you really think you could protect her? That you were worthy of her?”

I tried to pull away, tried to gather what little remained of my strength, but my body was heavy, slipping further into the cold void that her feeding left in its wake. Desperation clawed at me, and I forced my mind to reach past her grip, to find the real Luna somewhere in the chaos of memories being shredded apart.

The cabin in the snow-covered woods, our shared dream of a peaceful future. I latched onto it, recalling the warmth of the fireplace, her body nestled against mine, safe and content as the winter blanketed the world in silence. Within that dream she’d looked so at peace, her breathing steady and her face relaxed. I’d traced the delicate line of her jaw, committing each curve to memory, knowing how rare it was to see her so fully unguarded. I remembered the way she’d held me close, right before our hopes were shattered by the nothingness that hunted us across the Dreamscape.

But now, the warmth of those memories were slipping through my fingers, melting into the cold. Chrysalis fed deeper, greedily devouring every last shred of love from that dream, from that peace, pulling it all away. Her eyes shone with delight, her smile a twisted mockery of Luna’s tenderness. And worse, I could feel her savoring each memory — as if my love for Luna was some rich, decadent meal she intended to devour entirely.

“Such... devotion,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to watch me as life drained from my eyes. “But wasted, don’t you think? You’ll never see her again. You’re nothing but a pawn, clinging to a goddess you’ll never truly understand.”

I couldn’t find the strength to fight back. I could barely even breathe. The weight of her presence, the merciless feeding, it was tearing me apart. Every fiber of my being screamed for Luna, for the real Luna, but I was sinking, fading under the weight of Chrysalis’s power.

But there was one last tether, a shred of my soul that refused to let go. I thought of the way Luna and I were wrapped around each other as we lay together after the Gala, her breathing steady, the heat of our forms mingling together in a moment that felt like it could last forever. Her voice had been filled with budding love, promising a lifetime together, full of shared dreams, laughter, and passion. The thought of her anchored me, kept me from letting Chrysalis drain the very last piece of myself.

And then, with a cold, cruel smile, Chrysalis’s magic reached out. Her horn glowed brighter, and Promise — my sword, my oath — rose into the air, encased in her vile green aura. She held it over me, the blade catching the light.

“Poetic, isn’t it?” she whispered. “To kill you with the very thing that bears her mark.”

Promise gleamed in Chrysalis’s magic, cold and unyielding, its edge catching the light. The crescent mark on the hilt — Luna’s mark, her symbol of grace, strength, and everything I’d fought for — flickered as if gasping for air, its light waning. It was a sight that gripped my heart tighter than any weapon could, my world narrowing to that slender blade poised to take all that remained of me.

The room blurred, reality fracturing under the weight of exhaustion, pain, and the chilling certainty that this would be my end. Her smile stretched, twisting the face of the mare I loved into something monstrous and hollow. She savored every second, her voice a murmur of malice as she drove Promise downward, its descent slow, inevitable.

My chest heaved, struggling against the suffocating numbness as her magic guided the blade — my blade — closer. It was a strange thing, the way everything fell silent in that moment. Time stretched, and with it came an eerie stillness, a quiet that wrapped around me, draping the final seconds of my life in silence. I felt each heartbeat, a pulse pounding against the approaching steel, each beat an echo of my love for her — for Luna, the real Luna.

And then the cold metal found its mark.

The blade pierced through skin, muscle, and bone, sinking deep into my chest. I barely felt the pain. Instead, it was an emptiness, a yawning darkness that swallowed the world whole. My breath shuddered, weak and fragile, as if even the air had lost the will to hold me. I could feel it slipping — the warmth, the life, all pouring out of me in waves, leaving me hollow, a vessel emptied.

My gaze fell to the blade protruding from my chest, the crescent mark now smeared with my blood. Luna’s symbol, mingling with the remnants of who I had been. It was almost beautiful in its cruelty, the way it stood there, quiet and solemn, marking the end of all I had been, all I had fought for.

Chrysalis’s laughter rang hollow in the dim silence. I saw her savoring it, the taste of my last breaths as she watched the life drain from my eyes, her magic pressing Promise deeper, claiming the final remnants of who I was. My vision darkened further, a fog closing in at the edges, every sound becoming muted and distant.

In those last moments, I thought of Luna.

Pact

Death.

Everything seemed sharper in this state, stripped bare of mortal limitations. The benefit to being in this state was that I now could enjoy the benefits of having both my eyes and arms again, the downside is that I’m dead.

I hovered there, a pulse of memory and will in the infinite stillness. I thought of Luna — of her laughter, her quiet strength, the warmth of her beside me on those long, silent nights. I had promised her I’d come back, no matter what. Now, that vow lingered with a bitter edge. I’d failed again. I was here, and she was… I didn’t know where she was or what she would think when she realized I was gone.

A weight settled over me, a sorrow I hadn’t quite expected.

Back on Earth, I had been a Dungeon Master, a storyteller, a few times have I guided others through the very paths of the dead in our games, describing the Boneyard with its towering spires, vast fields of souls, and Pharasma’s glistening palace atop the center spire. And now here I was, another soul about to enter her halls. All the rules, the lore, the knowledge I had obtained over the years was pointless.

Knowledge itself could not wake me from this slumber.

Knowledge itself could not bridge the gap back to the waking world of the living.

Knowledge itself could not bring me back to Luna.

The fog that blanketed my perception lifted, revealing the gleaming structure of Pharasma’s Palace at the heart of this endless purgatory. A magnificent edifice of white marble, its walls pulsed with an inner glow that seemed to reflect every soul that had ever passed through it. The black onyx floor was polished, gleaming, the very image of death’s finality beneath the pure light of birth. Pharasma was both ends of existence, and this palace was her temple, her throne, her domain over the greatest mystery of all.

I felt a pull, as if the palace itself had called me, bypassing the endless throng of souls flowing through the River of Souls. By all rights, I should have been among them, waiting my turn like the rest. Yet, here I stood, ahead of the tide, as though my judgment had been expedited.

Perhaps she already knew everything. Perhaps she wanted to speak with me personally before making her decision. Or maybe she had simply decided my fate required swift resolution. Then again, it could have been all of these things woven together, her will driving the course of events.

At the entrance, I recognized the towering forms of two vanth psychopomps, their dark wings folded like funeral shrouds against their skeletal frames. They were ancient creatures, angels of death, each masked by a vulture’s visage and holding an ornate scythe that shone with symbols from an era long forgotten. The symbols seemed to shift and glimmer, I knew that it was an exercise in futility to try to read them; they were promises made in another world, in a language from an age long since forgotten.

I took a breath — or something like a breath. The weight of loss hung heavy on my heart. It was tempting to give in to that sadness, to let myself crumble here at the edge of everything.

But then I remembered Luna, remembered the way her voice steadied me, her promises that we were stronger together than anything we could face alone. She wouldn’t give up on me. I couldn’t give up on her. I’d promised her I’d always come back after all. No matter the cost, I would find a way.

Besides, I’d hate to become a liar.

Steeling myself, I reached for Promise out of instinct, craving the solidity of the sword, the comfort of Luna’s mark on its pommel. My fingers brushed against nothing but empty air. Promise wasn’t here, and a hollow ache blossomed in my chest, somehow deeper than the loss of life itself was the lost Promise. It felt as though I'd left a key piece of myself behind, and the absence stung as sharply as any wound. I missed the feel of it, the certainty it brought with its mere presence, its silent reminder of Luna and the promises we swore.

But this was the realm of death, after all. Souls left behind all things of the living world — weapons, armor, bodies, and eventually even their memories. I had nothing to hold onto here but my own will.

I lifted my gaze to the two vanths, their silent, skeletal faces watching me with the stillness of the grave. Dark wings draped over their forms, feathers frayed and heavy with the passage of countless eons. I took a breath that was more out of habit than out of necessity and moved forward, each step echoing on the onyx floor beneath me. The two vanths shifted slightly as I approached, their scythes poised like silent guardians of all that lay beyond life’s threshold. Their empty eyes locked onto me, waiting.

“I am Sebastian Hilam,” I said, my voice sounding small and strange in the endless silence of Pharasma’s domain. "I have come to petition the Lady of Graves."

They did not speak, but their heads tilted ever so slightly, their hollow eyes seeming to weigh my soul, as though testing the depth of my resolve and the sincerity of my request. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the palace itself, an eternal monument to the endless cycle of life and death.

For a moment, I wondered if they would turn me away, dismiss me with a sweep of those immense scythes, relegating me to the lines of souls that waited in endless submission for judgment. But then, one of the vanths, with the faintest creak of bone, extended a boney hand toward the palace’s entrance, a wordless invitation into the unknown depths of Pharasma’s domain. I felt a chill, a pang of unease, but I nodded, straightening myself as best I could and stepping forward.

The other vanth fell into step beside me, a silent guide as we crossed the threshold into Pharasma’s Palace. The light shifted here, neither warm nor cold, glowing from the walls and ceiling in a way that felt less like illumination and more like an echo of souls themselves, mingling into a mosaic of memories long forgotten. The white marble walls towered on either side, each inlaid with veins of glistening onyx that seemed to pulse faintly, as though the palace itself were alive with the spirits who had passed through these halls in ages long since passed.

Every step we took resounded through the stillness, a reminder that this was no place for the living. I was in the heart of death’s domain, guided by ancient psychopomps into the depths of the unknown, surrounded by the whispers of those who had come before and the faint hum of the souls who awaited their final judgments.

I clenched my hands, a pang of longing filling me once again as I remembered Promise, the weight of it in my grip, the comfort it gave me on long, lonely nights when duty kept me from my love. But that was behind me now. Only one thing mattered now — far more valuable than the blade itself, was the promise I had made to find my way back to her.

The ever silent vanths guided me through the winding, towering halls, each step leading me deeper into the heart of Pharasma’s Palace. The light grew dimmer as we progressed, fading into an ethereal glow that seemed to resonate from the stones themselves. Everything somehow felt heavy here — not physically, but in a spiritual manner, as though the air carried the weight of countless lives and secrets, whispers from souls lost to the annals of history.

Soon, we came to a stop before a massive set of double doors, standing tall against the marble walls and onyx floors. They were ancient, towering, and oppressive, with carvings that wound their way across the surface in patterns that defied logic. The markings — no, they were more than that, they were words — formed a language that pulled at some primal place within me. Its beauty was grim, harsh, and raw, and it seemed to speak of forgotten realms, secrets so old that even the gods themselves must have forgotten them.

The vanths’ scythes bore the same cryptic inscriptions, etched into their blades in jagged, angular lines that seemed to pulse with the significance of something unknowable. I could feel it calling to me, though I couldn’t comprehend a single symbol. Whatever language it was, it was beyond anything I’d ever encountered, something so ancient it felt woven into the very fabric of death itself.

The vanths stopped on either side of the doors, turning to face each other, their skeletal forms solemn and still. With a slow, unified motion, they lifted their scythes, crossing them in front of the door in a silent ritual that felt almost reverent. A resonant hum filled the air, like a low droning chant that came from nowhere and everywhere, vibrating through the stone, through my bones — or what constituted bones for a spirit.

I braced myself as the hum deepened into a soft rumble. The doors began to shift, stone grinding against stone, as they slowly parted. The doors opened with a solemn grace, revealing a vast chamber that seemed paradoxically endless and finite, filled with an ethereal light that neither illuminated nor shadowed but simply was.

In the center of the throne room sat Pharasma herself, a figure of cold, unyielding authority. Her ashen skin held the pallor of both birth and death, her eyes a blank, haunting white, as if they could see through time itself. She was cloaked in a dark robe that flowed around her like wisps of smoke, her fingers resting lightly on an hourglass filled with red sand. Her gaze was distant yet somehow exacting, like she could see through every inch of the soul.

Before her throne, with the dignity and weight of ages, was Aldin. But he wasn’t the same as I remembered. His feathers had taken on a shadowed, silvery hue, and his eyes, always so bright and familiar, now glimmered with the wisdom — or weariness — of lifetimes. Aldin's soul felt older than the familiar who’d perched on my shoulder and chirped insults through our countless shared nights. Here, he seemed timeless, a reflection of something far beyond the comparably short amount of time we’d shared on Equis.

Pharasma's voice was low and steady, each word resonating with the cadence of fate itself. “Our pact holds, spirit. You shall be given your moment, but when it ends, you will be reincarnated, bound to my cycle once more.”

Aldin inclined his head, the way he did when he was deep in thought or in rare moments of humility. “I understand, Lady of Graves,” he replied, his voice laced with a deep, reverberating calm. He looked up, and for the first time, his gaze turned toward me.

Seeing him, I felt an ache cut through the numbness that had settled over me since my death. “Aldin,” I murmured, my own voice sounding faint and hollow in this vast chamber, but I knew it reached him all the same.

Aldin ruffled his feathers, his beak tipping in a wry, almost nostalgic smile. “Seb… you look terrible.” He cocked his head with a warmth that was strangely comforting, even here. “Getting killed by a giant horse-bug, of all things. I knew you had terrible taste, but really?”

A dry chuckle escaped me before I could stop it, a familiar blend of fondness and irritation. “Trust me, it wasn’t my plan.”

Aldin looked me over, his gaze carrying the weight of one who’s seen this path tread too many times. “You always had a knack for finding trouble. Even here, standing before the Gray Lady herself.” He turned back to Pharasma, dipping his head respectfully before she looked between us, almost as if studying the last shared breaths of two souls intertwined.

The goddess’s expression remained impassive, but a faint shift in her posture made it clear she was observing, waiting as if this farewell was something she had seen countless times before and yet held it as an invaluable significance of its own.

“You know,” Aldin’s voice softened, turning reflective, “I always thought if I had to go, I’d be going out after you. But it seems the tides turned.” He looked up at me, his gaze searching, almost as if he were trying to memorize me before our paths diverged.

The realization hit me like a blow — he was truly leaving, truly about to be reborn. Soon he would be whisked away to the Lake of Mortal Reflections to undergo reincarnation.

I looked at Aldin, really looked at him, his body softened and made ghostly by the light filtering from our shared state of death. There was no edge of sarcasm in his gaze, no teasing gleam. Instead, there was a somberness there, a depth I hadn’t seen there before. His feathers had a spectral shimmer, and his eyes — far older, far wiser than I remembered.

Aldin broke the silence first, his voice a gentle rasp that managed to carry through the vastness of the chamber. “Seb… I’m proud of you. You fought for something worth fighting for. Not everyone does that.” He shifted his wings, almost in a shrug, but the sentiment held firm. “You’ve done better than I could’ve imagined… better than I think you know.”

Something in me cracked open at that. There was so much I wanted to say, too many memories and inside jokes that rose unbidden, too many moments when he’d stood beside me, my best friend, my best-buddy. But I swallowed all that, gathering myself into a simple truth.

“I love you, Aldin. I always have.”

His feathers ruffled softly, his form rippling as he regarded me with a look that spoke of countless memories. I stepped forward, reaching out, and he extended a wing, brushing it against my hand. In that moment, he felt as real as ever. We both knew what was coming next, but in that moment it didn’t matter.

“I’ll find you,” the words slipped out before I could swallow them back. “When you reincarnate… I’ll find you. I swear it. I’ll—”

Aldin cut me off, his eyes narrowing with a flash of warning. “Seb, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” His gaze held mine, unyielding, a silent reminder that some things are beyond even us. “I’ve seen more years than you can imagine, died a few times too, and this old fool doesn’t want you shedding tears over me. Alright? I’m grateful I got to share a little of that time with you.”

The words hung between us, then faded as a subtle shimmer appeared beside Pharasma. A portal materialized, rippling with a soft blue light, beyond which lay an endless expanse of water. The Lake of Mortal Reflections — the place where souls go to wash away their former selves before reincarnation, to shed memories of lives past like leaves drifting from branches.

Aldin gave me one last look, his wry smile surfacing as he spread his wings, poised on the edge of everything we’d known together. “Goodbye, Sebastian,” he murmured, his voice a soft whisper that only I would hear.

Then, he soared.

Through the portal, he merged with that blue expanse of water before vanishing from sight altogether. The portal snapped shut as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me alone with Pharasma, and the silence that was filled with the echoes of his parting words.

The silence stretched, vast and cold.

Pharasma’s gaze held steady, her white eyes unblinking. I could feel something shifting beneath the surface of that impassive expression of hers — some distant weight, like the tolling of an ancient bell in the depths of an endless cavern.

Then she spoke, her voice as ancient as the stones of her palace. “Sebastian Hilam,” she said, as if my name was both familiar and foreign to her. “This is not the first time you stand before me.”

Her words stopped me cold, snapping me out of my mourning. “Not… the first time?”

A slow nod was her response. “You have entered my palace once before. We have spoken before. You — and I — entered into a pact.”

The concept of it twisted through me, thick and heavy. “A pact?” My voice sounded thin, ghostly in the expanse of her throne room. “I don’t remember… anything like that.”

“That is by design. The memory of it was taken at your request. You wished for clarity of mind, unfettered by what you described as a ‘distraction’ to your magical studies. I obliged.”

The pieces fell into place like puzzle fragments soaked in fog. I had asked for this? I had willingly erased such a thing? "But why? What would lead me to—"

Her expression softened just slightly, an infinitesimal shift that would be missed by almost anyone, but I saw it, a crack in the cold stone of her timeless exterior. The expression alone was more than enough to cut me short. “The pact was made to deal with something outside my cycle — an anomaly, something that does not belong and yet persists still. You referred to it as the ‘Nothingness.’”

A faint shiver crept through me at the mention. The Nothingness. The void I’d glimpsed twice now, with those terrible, disembodied eyes — gold encircled by sickly green, staring into me from the depths of a place beyond the mundane. That presence had haunted me, its whispers gibbering just beyond the edge of language. My chest felt tight, an instinctive reaction, as though the memory alone were enough to summon it.

“I presented you with two choices: return the Nothingness to the cycle or submit to judgment," she said, her voice like tempered steel. “You chose the former. The pact you made with me sets a path for this, and if you choose to uphold it, that purpose will shape you."

I swallowed, or tried to. "And if I stick to this pact… I’d return to Equis?”

Pharasma nodded, the barest inclination of her head. “You would be resurrected, yes, but changed. The pact dictates that your resurrection must be completed through the Nothingness. It will not be pleasant.”

Her words lingered in the cold, hushed air. Return to Equis, to my life, to… Luna. But at what cost? As if sensing my doubt, she extended a pale, graceful hand to the chamber around us, her robe of black whispering softly as it shifted.

"Alternatively," she continued, her voice deepening, "you may choose judgment now. I would send you on to the afterlife of your choice. A realm within the cycle awaits, offering peace — or purpose, if that is your calling. You would become part of something greater, as all souls must, eventually."

Her words carried the weight of finality, and I felt the ground beneath me begin to tremble. The afterlives — the realms of angels, archons, devils, demons, and so much more — places that would erase me, as I was, forever. I would lose everything, become something other. My love for Luna, the memories of those nights under her stars, the laughter, the heartache, the promises…

“I see that you understand what is at stake,” she said, watching me. “The afterlives are… thorough. Complete. They take your essence, reshape it, and you become what is needed in the beyond. The person you are now, Sebastian Hilam, would cease.”

Her voice softened, just slightly, a flicker of something that might have been compassion. “The decision is yours, and yours alone. The pact, or the cycle. But know that whatever you choose, I will uphold my end.”

I breathed in deeply, looking up at her, absorbing her words. “What can you tell me about this… pact? About what I agreed to?”

Pharasma’s gaze held me in its pale, timeless depths, her features as still as if they’d been carved from stone. After a long moment, she answered, her voice lowering in a way that filled the throne room with an almost mournful gravity.

“When you first crossed into death,” she began, “it was not here, not into my cycle. You were intended for the afterlife of your home world — a place I do not govern. But another force intervened.” Her tone shifted, edged with a restrained frustration I hadn’t expected. “The one you know as the ‘Nothingness’ intercepted your soul, tore you away from your destined path, and brought you here. It cast you, disoriented and formless, before me.”

I swallowed, though there was no physicality to it. I could not remember when I had first died, the most I could recall was the refreshing glass of water I drank before everything changed, but beyond that, nothing.

“It was never meant to have you,” Pharasma continued. “Nor was it within my authority to deny it. So, we struck a deal.” Her words carried the faintest tremor, and I felt a chill ripple through me. “It would surrender its claim on your soul, in exchange for an agreement that you would work toward returning it to the cycle.”

“And it let me go?” I murmured, barely believing. “Just like that?”

“Not entirely. It did… allow you to leave, but with conditions. And so I granted you the life you lived, on Equis.” Her gaze turned piercing, almost severe. “You were sent to that world, carrying this pact, which would remain unknown to you until this moment.”

My mind spun, piecing together fragments, the dread in my stomach deepening with every word. “But… why Equis? Why not… Golarion? Or Earth? Or any other plane or planet?”

“That,” Pharasma said, “was its choice, not mine. For reasons it would not divulge, it insisted upon sending you to that world. I held no sway in that matter.”

Another chill coursed through me. The Nothingness, this force so otherworldly, had chosen Equis for reasons of its own, binding me to its purpose even while it released me into another life. The pact wasn’t just something I’d made; it had been engineered — designed to guide me toward a fate it wanted me to fulfill.

A pit formed inside my soul.

I had been a pawn from the very beginning.

Pharasma shifted slightly, her robes whispering against the stone floor. “Now, you stand at the same threshold you crossed once before. To continue with the pact would mean reentering its sphere of influence, and you would experience all that it deems necessary to complete the task.” Her words hung in the air, filling the room with an unsettling sense of inevitability.

Then, with a faint wave of her hand, she gestured, and a portal appeared beside her throne, expanding outward in a cold, dark shimmer. Its depths were entirely devoid of light, an inky blackness that seemed to consume everything it touched.

“This,” she said, “is Nowhere. The place where the Nothingness waits. It is a void, barren of warmth or light, beyond even my sight. Should you choose to fulfill your pact, you will enter there.”

The portal loomed, vast and forbidding. Every instinct in me recoiled from it, the sheer emptiness of it pressing against my senses. But beyond it, somewhere in the bleak expanse, lay my path back to the world I’d left, to Luna, to the life I’d built and the place I had come to call home.

I felt Pharasma’s gaze upon me, steady, unyielding. “I have ruled over the fates of mortals and gods alike since before this universe began,” she said, her voice softer now, almost gentle. “In all that time, I have watched every thread of existence bend to one truth above all: love bears all things.”

Her words lingered in the air, more profound and immense than any I’d ever heard. Love bears all things. It struck at the heart of the choice before me, the life I’d led, the connections I’d made. That love — for Luna, for Aldin, for the world I’d come to call home — was the one thing that made me feel alive, even in this spectral form.

And as I looked into the portal, into that absolute darkness, I realized that if love could bear all things, perhaps it could carry me through Nowhere, too.

Maybe even carry me home.

I turned back to Pharasma, meeting her pale, ancient gaze, and nodded slowly. "Thank you," I said. Her advice felt like a gift — or maybe closer to a warning. Either way, I’d hold onto it.

With one last look at her, I stepped forward and let myself drift into the portal.

The darkness swallowed me whole. For a moment, I felt weightless, suspended between nothing and nowhere, in the most absolute emptiness I’d ever known. The sensation was impossible to describe, a lack of sensation itself, like everything — even the memories of who I was — could slip away and fade into the black.

Death felt far more welcoming than Nowhere.

Time began to lose its meaning. Hours could have passed, or only seconds; I floated, untethered, with no way to anchor myself to anything familiar. I tried to focus on Pharasma’s words, on Aldin’s last goodbye, on the thought of Luna waiting for me somewhere in the life I’d left behind. But even memories felt faint here, like flickers of candlelight seen from miles away.

How long had I been here? A day? A year? A century? I couldn’t tell. The void stretched on and on.

Then, like a single star breaking through a cloudy night sky, a tiny point of light appeared in the distance. It was small, faint, a pinprick in the endless darkness — but unmistakable in its existence.

Hope flared in my chest, and without thinking, I dragged myself toward it. It seemed impossible to reach, the light always just out of reach, but something urged me forward, some primal instinct to close the distance. And as I drew closer, the faint glow brightened, resolving itself into the warm, flickering glow of a campfire.

The warmth was unexpected, it was like a shadow of a memory of warmth rather than the real thing, but it was enough to make me feel… something. I moved closer toward it, watching as the firelight spilled outward, casting faint shadows in the dark.

As I stepped into the edge of the fire’s light, the whispers started.

They were soft at first, low murmurs threading through the air, but they grew louder as I moved closer, tangling together, overlapping. They sounded like the same voice, a man’s voice, yet as if dozens of versions of him were all talking at once, each arguing with the other, filling the air with the same words spoken in ways that contradicted and clashed with each other.

“…no, that’s not it, can’t you see —”

“…but it was supposed to be…”

“…only one way… wrong, it’s all wrong…”

The words blurred together into a cacophony that prickled at the edges of my mind, impossible to truly understand, like listening to a single echo splintered into a thousand pieces. I tried to focus on one voice, one phrase, anything that could make sense of it all, but every word was drowned out by the others, all too fractured to follow.

Yet even as the voices rose, something about them felt… familiar. Like a memory I couldn’t fully grasp, a thread I’d seen woven into the fabric of my life before but couldn’t pull loose. This place made it hard to remember anything, or anyone.

Step by step, I moved closer to the fire, its glow pushing back against the dark, warm and almost tangible. The whispers faded as I neared the campfire, the discordant murmurs receding into silence. The tension eased, the quiet settling over me like a blanket.

Seated at the fire’s edge, facing away from me, was a man, his back straight and his shoulders rigid. The firelight cast his figure in shadow, obscuring his features. He was perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the flames, as if he’d been waiting there for ages, for something — or someone.

I stepped closer, my mind finding stable ground as I moved into the fire’s clarifying light, leaving the darkness behind. The silence was absolute, the whispers vanishing completely as if they’d never been there at all.

As I entered the full glow of the campfire, the man turned slightly, giving me a profile view of his face. His irises were gold encircled with sickly green, they almost seemed to pulse with some sort of latent power. The fire's light revealed lines of exhaustion that were etched deeply into his features. He looked familiar in a way that was both impossible and undeniable, as if I were staring into a mirror set years into the future. His face held the unmistakable structure of my own, but aged — worn down, haunted by some endless strain. The recognition hit me like a lightning bolt, knocking the breath from my nonexistent-lungs.

Meridin.

My first character I ever put to paper. A name I rarely — if ever — think about, yet here he was, real, seated at a fire that burned with a light that somehow felt both inviting and unsettling. I tried to form words, to make sense of the impossible scene unfolding before me.

“Sebastian Hilam,” the man finally said, his voice rough, worn by a fatigue that seemed to run deeper than bone. He didn’t look up as he spoke, but the tone carried a strange warmth — or maybe it was just a familiarity, one soul recognizing another across whatever strange divide had brought us here. “Come. Sit.”

I hesitated, taking in the lines of his face, the fire’s light casting hollow shadows in his eyes. Part of me still reeled from seeing him, from the sheer impossibility of it. I took a few slow steps forward and sank onto the opposite side of the fire, still watching him, as if he might vanish at any second.

After a moment of silence, he lifted his gaze and finally looked at me directly. Eyes of gold encircled by sickly green — hazel eyes. And in that instant, I knew. The flickering light danced in his eyes, but behind it was something fractured, something deeply, fundamentally broken.

“Meridin…” I breathed, the name feeling strange on my lips, a relic from a life I hadn’t lived but had once imagined down to the smallest detail. He offered a small, weary nod in response, an acknowledgment that said more than words ever could.

“Yes,” he replied, voice barely above a murmur. His eyes turned back to the flames, and for a moment, he looked as though he were peering through them, past them, into some other plane of memory. “It’s… complicated,” he continued, his voice trembling just slightly. “But the simplest answer is this: I am the Nothingness.”

The fire crackled softly, but the silence that followed was so dense it felt as if the sound barely registered. I could feel my thoughts stumbling over themselves, struggling to process his words, his admission. This was the Nothingness? The formless, incomprehensible presence that had haunted me atop the Crystal Mountains — that had chased Luna and I through the Dreamscape to the Tree of Harmony and thus set off the series of events that led to this very moment?

It was him all along? The eyes matched at least...

A strained silence stretched between us, the campfire casting flickering shadows across his face. His gaze remained locked on the flames, unwilling to meet my eyes, as he continued, “Every time I try to leave this place… to stray from the light of this fire…” His voice wavered, and he swallowed hard. “The madness takes over. The whispers return, the… the pieces of myself that were shattered… that I unmade.”

He paused, his expression tightening, as if the memory alone threatened to bring those fragments to life. “It’s like being broken into a thousand shards, each one a piece of who I was, who I am. And every time I try to put them back together, they only clash, contradicting one another, each memory twisted against the others.”

I stared, struggling to make sense of it all, to imagine what such an existence must feel like. What it must have taken to be here, to hold onto anything resembling sanity within that fractured reality.

Meridin’s gaze softened as he finally looked back at me, and for the first time, I saw something else in his eyes — regret, raw and deeply rooted. “I never wanted this… any of this to reach you. The pain, the chaos. Whatever burden I carry… it should have stayed with me.” His voice grew even softer, tinged with sorrow. “I am sorry, Sebastian. For everything that’s happened. For everything that will happen.”

The weight of his words settled over me, a strange blend of apology and warning. Whatever this existence of his had become, whatever struggles lay behind those tired, haunted eyes, he hadn’t meant for it to touch my life. And yet, here we were, the flames casting strange shadows between us in the depths of Nowhere.

I sat in silence, the campfire crackling softly between us. Meridin’s words twisted in my mind, heavy and sharp. He was sorry? For everything that had happened? For everything that had touched my life because of him?

A slow, simmering heat rose within me, far more potent than the gentle warmth of the fire. “Sorry?” I spat, my voice sharp and bitter. “You’re sorry?” I leaned forward, fists clenched tightly at my sides. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? What you put me through? What you have done to Equis? The Nothingness, the Elements of Harmony, the pact I don’t even remember making, the—” My voice faltered, anger swelling with each word. “You’ve been playing me this whole time. Haven’t you?”

Meridin flinched, a flicker of pain crossing his features, but he didn’t interrupt. He sat there, letting me vent, his gaze firmly on the flames.

“I’ve been a pawn,” I continued, my voice trembling with rage. “Dragged into something I never asked for, never agreed to. And for what? To be a piece on your twisted chessboard?”

The fire seemed to dim for a moment, its glow shrinking under the weight of my anger. The silence pressed in as I glared at him, expecting some defense, some justification. But Meridin said nothing. He just sat there, shoulders slumped, his eyes distant and tired. The firelight flickered over his face, highlighting every deep line and hollow shadow carved by years — centuries, probably — of torment.

The fury within me began to waver, like a storm losing its wind. His silence wasn’t indifference; it was something else. Something heavier. He wasn’t denying my accusations, wasn’t trying to explain them away. He was just... sitting there, bearing it.

Gods, it’s hard to stay angry at someone like this!

And that was when it hit me.

Because of him — because of whatever deal, whatever manipulation, whatever insane plan had brought me to this moment — I’d been given a second chance with a life I never would have had otherwise. I’d come to Equis, learned magic, witnessed things that I never would have begun to believe that I could see. I’d made friends. I’d found… her.

Luna.

My anger drained away like water slipping through my fingers, replaced by a wave of something far more complicated. If not for Meridin — for his meddling, his choices, his madness — I never would have met her. Never would have stood under the stars she loved so dearly, tracing constellations by her side. Never would have felt her embrace, her lips, her love. The thought of her filled me with true warmth, a steadying light in the chaos of my emotions.

“I…” I started, my voice quieter now, uncertain. “I’m angry at you, furious even, but…” I swallowed hard, the words catching in my throat. “I found her. Because of all this. I found Luna. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even this.”

Meridin finally looked up at me, his eyes glistening with an emotion I couldn’t place. Gratitude? Relief? Or maybe just a faint reflection of the same aching love I felt. He didn’t speak, but the faintest nod acknowledged my words.

The silence stretched between us again, but this time it wasn’t heavy or oppressive. It was thoughtful, contemplative, as if the fire itself were listening.

“Why?” I asked at last, my voice steady but searching. “Why me? Why Equis?”

His gaze turned back to the fire, his expression unreadable, but the question hung in the air, awaiting his answer.

Meridin stayed quiet for a moment, his face illuminated by the flickering firelight. His jaw tightened as if struggling to find the right words, his shoulders went rigid. Finally, he let out a sigh, the sound carrying the weariness of countless years.

“I chose Equis because of its harmonic magic. I had hoped that the Tree of Harmony could have… finished me off, but that didn’t work out. So now It has to be you, Sebastian,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering. “Because of the connection we share.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. “Connection? What connection?”

He looked up at me then, his eyes heavy with something I couldn’t quite place — regret, longing, perhaps even hope. “You created me,” he said simply.

“What?” I stammered, my voice rising. “I created you? What the hell does that even mean?”

Meridin’s gaze didn’t waver. “I was your first. Your first creation, back when you were alive on Earth. You poured your imagination, your creativity, your will into me. You gave me my strengths, my flaws, my goals, my very essence. You made me who I am, Sebastian. And because of that… there’s a link between us. One that stretches across realities, across lifetimes.”

I stared at him, my mind reeling. It sounded impossible, absurd even, but the weight in his voice, the earnestness in his expression… it felt like truth.

“You’re saying… you exist because I made you? That’s why this link exists?”

He nodded, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. When I was unmade by the Singularity, my existence was erased and my touch upon reality was neglected, but our link remained through the unmaking. And because of that link, you’re the only one who I could reach, you’re the only one who can help me.”

I frowned, my anger resurfacing, though muted now by my confusion. “Help you how? What exactly are you asking me to do here, Meridin?”

His gaze fell back to the fire, his features cast in sharp relief by its glow. “I need to reenter the cycle,” he said softly. “To finally be free of this… paradoxical existence. To move on, like every soul is meant to.” He paused, his voice thickening. “But I can’t. Not alone.”

“Why not?” I pressed, though part of me already knew the answer.

“My mythic power,” he admitted, his tone bitter. “It’s what’s keeping me here, stuck in this state of neither living nor dying. It’s what’s holding my psyche together — barely. If I try to burn through it, to destroy it so I can enter the cycle, I lose myself. I lose everything.”

He met my gaze again, his eyes filled with a raw, desperate vulnerability I hadn’t expected to see. “Every time I’ve tried, the fractured pieces of my mind… they take over. The whispers, the madness. I become something else entirely. And then I end up back here, at this fire, as if nothing ever happened.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in my chest. “And you think I can change that? You think I can help you burn through this power?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “Because of our connection. Because of your strength of soul. You’re the only one who can anchor me through it, Sebastian. The only one who can keep me from slipping into madness while I let go of the power that’s kept me trapped.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. This was insane. Impossible. And yet… I couldn’t deny the pull of his words.

Meridin’s gaze dropped back to the fire, his hands clenched tightly on his knees. “I know I’ve been a selfish bastard,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve dragged you into something you never asked for. But I can’t do this alone. I’ve tried. Gods, I’ve tried.”

He looked up at me then, and the raw, unfiltered plea in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. “Please, Sebastian,” he said, his voice breaking. “Help me.”

The plea hung in the air, weighty and raw, as though the entire void around us had grown still, waiting for my answer. I stared at Meridin, at the man who looked so much like me but carried the crushing burden of centuries — or longer. My emotions churned, a storm of anger, confusion, and reluctant understanding.

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him this wasn’t fair, that I never asked for this, that I didn’t deserve to be a tool used to clean up his mess. But the firelight flickered, casting shadows across his weary face, and something in me softened. He wasn’t just the arrogant, untouchable figure I’d always imagined. He was a broken man. Desperate. And he was asking for my help.

Luna’s face flashed in my mind — her soft smile, her steady gaze, the way she’d lend me her strength when I felt weak. If I turned away now, I’d never see her again. I’d never hold her, never laugh with her, never love her.

That reality was unthinkable — unacceptable.

I took a slow breath, steadying the whirlwind inside me. “If I help you,” I said, my voice low, “if I do this… does it guarantee I go back?”

Meridin’s eyes met mine, the faintest glimmer of hope in their depths. “Yes,” he said firmly. “Once we join, the power will pull us back into your body on Equis. You will live again, Sebastian. I swear it.”

I nodded, letting his words sink in. The path before me was clear now, even if it was one I’d never have chosen.

"Fine," I said at last, the word falling from my lips like a weighty vow. "I’ll help you."

Relief flooded his features, softening the tension that had etched deep lines across his face. His shoulders sagged, as though he'd been carrying a burden too heavy for one man. But just as I felt the first stirrings of resolve, a thought struck me, and I narrowed my eyes.

“This mythic power of yours,” I asked, my tone edged with caution. “Once it’s gone… will it leave anything behind in me? I need to know exactly what I’m signing up for.”

Meridin’s lips shifted into a faint, weary smile, edged with a hint of melancholy. “Your arm and eye,” he began, “my mythic power will mar those wounds permanently. No spell, not even Wish, will be able to restore them. They’ll be gone… forever.” He paused, his gaze flickering to the fire crackling between us before lifting back to mine. “But the pure seed of my power will remain, even after I am gone. A piece of what was once mine, what was the origin of my greatest power. It will become your… moment of ascension.”

I tilted my head, skepticism evident in the arch of my brow. “Down an eye and an arm permanently? And you’re calling that ‘ascension’?”

He nodded, a shadow of reverence mingling with exhaustion in his expression. “Ascension,” he repeated. “Think of it as a gift. For everything. For being caught in my chaos, for enduring where I faltered. It won’t change you unless you choose it to. But the spark will be there, waiting. Yours to wield, should you ever wish to.”

The concept unsettled me. Mythic ascension was so far removed from any goal I’d ever imagined, it might as well have been a dream from another life. Still, there was no point in arguing; the decision had already been made. My gaze dropped to my hand, then returned to him.

"Alright," I said, squaring my shoulders and steeling myself. "Let’s get this over with."

I extended my hand across the fire.

For a moment, Meridin simply stared at it, as though the gesture itself was more unbelievable than the events that had led us here. Then, slowly, he reached out. His fingers brushed mine — cool, trembling — and closed around my hand.

The fire roared to life, surging impossibly bright.

The air around us shuddered with an otherworldly force, and then everything dissolved into nothing.

Ascension

Agony.

It wasn't just a word; it was everything.

The air tore into my lungs like fire, each breath a raw, scraping thing that clawed at my throat. My chest was a white-hot inferno of pain, radiating outward in waves that made the rest of me feel distant and unreal.

For a moment, all I could do was gasp and twitch against the stone floor beneath me. The hall was eerily quiet, the type of quiet that mocked me in my suffering. Noon light streamed through the stained glass windows, painting the wreckage of the wedding hall in fractured rainbows. It was a cruel mockery of beauty, an indifferent world moving forward without care for what had happened here.

My left hand spasmed, curling into the slick warmth of my own blood. The coppery tang of it filled my nose, sharp and bitter. The stump of my right arm throbbed, the mangled remains of nerves screaming as if they, too, realized I shouldn’t be here.

“But you are here,” came a voice, low and steady in my mind. Meridin.

I coughed, the act brought a feeling of tearing through my chest like so many shards of glass. My vision blurred, the left side showing the world in fractured clarity while the right was dark, forever lost. I groaned, the sound more of a croak as I forced myself to roll onto my good side. The weight in my chest was unbearable, foreign and wrong.

“Why…?” I managed, though whether I was asking Meridin or the universe itself, I did not know.

“Because I brought you back,” he replied, the calm in his voice undercut by something else, a faint strain I couldn’t place. “It’s not pleasant, I know, but life never is. You’ll survive this, though. You have to.”

I groaned again, the fire in my chest threatening to pull me under. “Feels like… you left something behind.”

“That’s because I did,” he said grimly. “As I told you back in Nowhere, the manner in which I had to resurrect you has left its marks on your soul. It will not be possible to completely regain what has been lost. That, and Promise is still buried in your chest. Chrysalis left it as a parting gift it seems.”

The name — Chrysalis — sent a bolt of rage through me, hot enough to momentarily drown out the pain. I remembered her smirk, the way her voice and form had twisted into a mockery of Luna’s. Feeding on my love and despair before she’d driven Promise through my heart. My teeth clenched as the memories burned bright behind my remaining eye.

“Focus,” Meridin’s voice broke through. “Anger won’t help you here, Sebastian. What will, is me. But there’s a cost.”

“What… cost?” I ground out, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“My power,” he said simply. “To keep you alive, to fix what I can. But it burns me, Sebastian. Every charge of mythic power I use erodes what’s left of me. My mind and soul… are so fragile now. A shattered mirror trying to hold itself together.” His voice softened, and for a moment, he almost sounded sad. “When it’s gone, I’ll be gone too. Back to the cycle. It’s what I want, but…”

“But?” I pressed, even as my body screamed for me to stop talking, stop moving, stop existing.

“I won’t lie. As I burn through what’s left, my sanity will fray. You’ll hear it. Fragments. Whispers. I’ll start to fade before the end, but I promise you this: I’ll see you through first.”

His words sank in, the weight of them pressing against the raw agony of my existence. I didn’t have the strength to respond, not yet. Instead, I clawed at the floor with my left hand, my body convulsing as I tried to sit up. The blade embedded in my chest shifted, a new wave of white-hot pain tearing through me.

“Stop,” Meridin commanded sharply. “Let me lend you a hand.”

Before I could question him, I felt it — a surge of power, ancient and vast, yet tightly controlled. The air around me shimmered faintly, and then the sword in my chest began to move. I cried out, my vision going black for a moment as Promise slid slowly from my heart, its edges scraping against bone and flesh in a way that should have killed me all over again.

But it didn’t.

Meridin’s power held me together, knitting what it could even as the blade came free with a sickening squelch. I collapsed back onto the floor, gasping, fresh blood pooling around me in a sickening warmth.

When I opened my eye again, Promise was hovering above me, held aloft by a faint, shimmering force of gold and green. Its blade gleamed with the light streaming through the windows, its edge as cruelly perfect as I remembered. Soaked in blood, my blood. The crescent moon on its pommel caught the light, a painful reminder of everything I fought for.

“Take it,” Meridin said, his voice steady but quieter now, like a flame burning low. “It’s yours. It always was, and always will be.”

With trembling fingers, I reached for the blade.

The moment my fingers closed around the hilt of Promise, it pulsed faintly, its weight familiar despite the hours and the blood that had passed since I’d last wielded it. The crescent moon engraved on the pommel seemed to shimmer, as though acknowledging me — or perhaps mourning alongside me.

I staggered to my feet, leaning heavily on the sword as I took stock of the room. The once-grand hall was unrecognizable, the aftermath of fire and violence scarring every surface. Scorched stone and charred pews marked the center of the destruction, but it was the silence that struck me hardest. This place, meant for celebration and unity, had become a tomb.

And then I saw him.

Aldin’s small form lay near the center of the room, crumpled but untouched by the fire. My breath hitched as I stumbled forward, each step dragging pain through my battered body. My left hand trembled as I dropped to my knees beside him, Promise clattering to the floor.

His feathers, once pristine and full of life, were now dull, smeared with dried blood that had spread from the wound in his chest. The sight of it brought a sharp pang of grief that cut deeper than anything Chrysalis had done to me. Aldin had been more than a familiar, more than some partner in the arcane. He was there for me since the night all this had started. He had become my best friend. My brother.

And now he was gone.

I reached out, brushing my fingers over the feathers atop his head, careful not to disturb him as if he were merely asleep. “You deserved better,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

“You said goodbye already,” Meridin’s voice echoed faintly in my mind, little more than a shadow. “But grief doesn’t care about farewells, does it?”

“No,” I said softly. “It doesn’t.”

I sat back, letting my hand fall to my side, my gaze lingering on Aldin’s still form. There was no rage, no firestorm of emotions. Just the cold certainty of what had to be done.

Chrysalis.

The name burned through my mind, igniting something deeper than anger. It wasn’t just revenge. It wasn’t even justice. It was the necessity of stopping her. She had taken everything — Aldin, my life, and Luna’s peace of mind. And if she wasn’t stopped, she would take even more.

I took Promise up in my grip, the blade gleaming faintly in the ruined light. “She’s going to pay for this,” I said, my voice steady, each word weighted with purpose. “For all of it.”

“I thought you might say that,” Meridin said, his tone carrying an edge of grim amusement. “But if you’re going to pursue vengeance, let me offer some advice from someone who’s walked that path to its completion: don’t.”

I gripped Promise tighter, my knuckles whitening as Meridin's words sank in. “Don’t?” I spat, my voice cold and sharp. “She hurt Celestia. She murdered Aldin. She drove Promise through my chest. She wore Luna’s face when she did it! You think I’m just going to walk away from that?”

Meridin sighed, the sound carrying weariness more profound than any I’d heard from him before. “I understand, Sebastian. Believe me, I do. But vengeance... it doesn’t end the way you think it will. It doesn’t heal you. It doesn’t bring back what was lost.”

“You don’t understand,” I snapped, rising to my feet with a surge of raw pain and anger. My right arm jabbed the air uselessly, and the weight of my wounds dragged at me. But none of that mattered. In my mind’s eye, I saw Chrysalis twisting Luna’s loving smile into a grotesque parody, her laughter echoing over Aldin’s broken, lifeless body. The images burned like brands, fueling the fire in my chest. “She isn’t just a killer. She’s a monster. And monsters don’t get to walk away.”

“Neither did the Vrock,” Meridin said, his voice quieter now, as though peeling back a piece of himself he rarely revealed. “I hunted it down. I tore through armies of demons in the Outer Rifts, made deals with devils and angels alike, all so I could find the thing that slaughtered my family. And when I finally stood over its broken body, do you know what I felt?”

I didn’t answer.

“Nothing, Sebastian. I felt nothing.” His words were weighted, heavy with the burden of years. “The moment the thing you hate is gone, all that’s left is you and the ashes of what you burned to get there. But it didn’t stop with the Vrock, did it? My thirst for vengeance became a need to control, to stop anyone from ever hurting me or mine again. That path—” He hesitated, his voice softening. “That path is what brought me to the Singularity, to the fire, to the whispers, to eternity spent alone in Nowhere.”

“You’re saying I should let her go?” I barked, my anger flaring. “Let her keep breathing after what she’s done?”

“I’m saying you’ll make things worse if you kill her,” Meridin countered, his tone steady but firm. “Chrysalis is a ruler, Sebastian. Kill her, and her changelings will seek vengeance. Tens of thousands of them at the very least will cry for your blood. They’re not like demons, mindless and self-centered in nature. They’re organized, and they can blend into the shadows of your life. Shape-shifting assassins, waiting for the moment you let your guard slip, and that’s not even counting the chaos her death might cause politically.”

I grit my teeth, the blade of Promise trembling in my hand as his words clawed at the edges of my rage. “So what? I let her get away? Let her regroup and come for me again? For Luna?”

Meridin’s voice softened, almost a whisper in my mind. “I’m not saying forgive her, Sebastian. I’m saying find another way. One that doesn’t leave you constantly looking over your shoulder as much, one that doesn’t drag you down the same path I walked. If you walk down that same path, you will have to bloody your hands further. But this time it will be with the blood of both the guilty and the innocent. Remember, Sebastian, these are countless shape-shifters. Shape-shifters that you and I and the majority of the world have little to no information on. Do not think of this as sparing Chrysalis. Think of it as sparing the ones you care for from further pain.”

My breath was heavy, and the fires of wrath within me seemed to flicker and pulse in time with the storm inside my chest. His words made sense, but the thought of doing nothing, of letting Chrysalis slip through my grasp, twisted my insides. “She’ll never stop, Meridin. She’ll never stop unless I make her.”

“And if you go after her now, blinded by revenge, you’ll be exactly where she wants you to be,” Meridin said, a cold truth lining his tone. “Think, Sebastian. She’s cunning but arrogant. She’s playing a game, and if you charge in without a plan, you’ll lose more than just yourself. You’ll lose the ones you love too.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against the fury that burned in my chest. I looked down at Promise, the crescent moon on its pommel seeming to glow faintly, as though waiting for me to decide.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, better than mine was at your age,” Meridin said, his voice quieter now, almost mournful. “Let me help you through this.”

I took a slow, unsteady breath, trying to suppress the simmering rage that threatened to consume me. “Fine,” I muttered, my voice hard. “If you want to help, answer me this — can you summon gorgons?”

There was a pause before Meridin’s voice came back, faintly amused but tinged with understanding. “Gorgons? Now that’s a choice. Yes, I can. Four of them at a time. They’ll do their thing, but you’ll need to be careful. Their breath doesn’t discriminate.”

“I know,” I said, my tone sharper than intended. “It’s for the swarm.”

My gaze flicked to Promise, its weight solid in my grip, a grim reminder of what needed to be done. I looked past it, though, to Aldin’s lifeless form, lying so still in the center of the room. My chest tightened, and for a moment, my grip on the blade faltered.

“Best-buddy…” I knelt down slowly, reverently. Promise rested on the floor as my hand hovered above his feathered form, trembling as I forced myself to focus. His chest was still, the wound through it a stark and ugly reality I couldn’t hope to change. I didn’t bother wiping at the wetness gathering in my remaining eye.

He deserved better.

“I’ll make this right,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. With painstaking care, I set him down on the floor, positioning him as though he were simply resting. My fingers brushed over the feathers on his head. “I’ll make sure this means something.”

Meridin stayed quiet, his presence a steady hum in my mind as I rose, the ache in my chest giving way to cold resolve. I drew in a deep breath, the edges of my vision blurring with the sharp sting of exhaustion and pain.

After a moment, I turned my focus inward. “Here’s the plan,” I said, my tone deliberate as I took up Promise. “You summon the gorgons. Let them loose on her changelings. The more we turn to stone, the more leverage we have.”

“Leverage for what?” Meridin asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“To force her to accept a Geas,” I said, gripping Promise tightly. “Something binding. Something that’ll stop her from ever coming after me, Luna, or anyone else I care about again.”

Meridin hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting. But do you really think she’ll agree to it?”

“She’ll agree,” I said sharply, though the flicker of doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve. “She won’t have a choice. Once her army starts turning into a garden of statues, she’ll listen.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Meridin pressed.

I let out a slow exhale, forcing my anger further down. “I’ll figure it out,” I said.

Meridin chuckled softly, though the sound lacked real mirth. “You seem to have inherited my stubborn tendencies. Fine. Your plan is as good as any I could conjure. Let’s do it. Before I fully confined myself to you, I managed to discern her last location — she’s at the main entrance to the castle. Overlooking the mess she’s made of Canterlot. You’ll find her there.”

I paused, and began to question how exactly he knew her location. But then I decided it best not to ask the man who barely exists about how his existence works. I nodded once, setting my jaw as I turned toward the doorway. My steps felt heavier now, each one pulling me further from Aldin.

But I didn’t falter.

I couldn’t.

The air in the wedding hall was heavy, thick with the scent of blood and charred stone, but I forced myself to press forward. My footsteps echoed, each one louder in my ears than it had any right to be. The adrenaline pounding through me dulled the pain of my wounds, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

“We need to act quickly,” Meridin said, his voice sharp and steady for now. “The longer you delay, the more time she has to respond and orientate herself against us.”

“I know,” I snapped, gripping Promise tighter as I broke into a jog. My body protested, the exhaustion and pain clawing at me, but I shoved it all aside. The anger, the need for action, fueled me. “Can you summon them now?”

“Yes.” There was a pause, and I could feel Meridin gathering his power, a faint hum in the back of my mind. “This will sting a little.”

It started as a flicker of heat, like an ember sparking to life, but it quickly grew into a sharp, jabbing pain in my skull. I gritted my teeth, focusing on the hallway ahead as I sprinted forward.

A shimmering rift tore open in the air beside me, brilliant and searing, before it spat out four hulking figures. The metallic plates of the gorgons gleamed in the dim light, their eyes glowing faintly green as puffs of smoke billowed from their nostrils.

They didn’t wait for commands. With a bellowing roar, they turned, their massive hooves thundering against the stone floor as they charged toward the nearest windows. The glass shattered into glittering shards as they barreled through, green smoke already pouring from their mouths as they leapt into the chaos outside.

“More,” I barked, my breathing ragged.

“Patience, boy,” Meridin's voice sounded strained in my mind. “I can’t just snap my fingers. This isn’t... effortless.”

I felt another sharp pulse in my head, this one stronger than the last, and I stumbled, catching myself against the wall. A second rift opened, spilling forth another four Gorgons. They galloped past me, their sheer presence shaking the floor beneath my feet, before smashing through a section of wall to join the fray.

The sounds of panicked changelings reached my ears: the frantic buzzing of wings, cries of alarm, and the thunderous stomps of the summoned beasts. The chaos was spreading, and I felt a grim satisfaction knowing that Chrysalis’s forces were being reduced to bargaining chips, one by one.

The pain in my head flared again, and I hissed, pressing a hand to my temple. “Meridin…”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though his voice wavered slightly. “You’re fine. We’re fine. Just… keep moving.”

I pushed forward, the corridor stretching out before me like an unending gauntlet. Each step felt heavier, my breath coming in shorter gasps. The sounds of destruction outside were growing louder, punctuated by the guttural roars of the gorgons and the hissing bursts of their petrifying breath.

Another sharp spike of pain lanced through my skull, and Meridin’s voice crackled in my mind, splintered like broken glass. “One more... just one more.”

A third rift tore open, spilling another set of four Gorgons into the hallway. These ones snorted and pawed at the ground, their glowing eyes scanning for targets before they followed their brethren’s lead, and charged through another section of wall, out into the chaos.

The pressure in my head had grown unbearable, like a vice tightening around my temples. Meridin’s presence was starting to fragment, his once-clear voice breaking into whispers.

“It’s not enough…” His tone was quiet, almost desperate, as if he were speaking to someone else. “Never enough. Always one more… just one more…”

I clenched my jaw and shook my head, trying to focus. The grand doors to the castle’s entrance loomed ahead, the light beyond them unyielding. My grip tightened on Promise, the blade feeling heavier with every step.

“We’re here,” I muttered, my voice barely audible over the pounding in my skull.

“Good,” Meridin said, though his voice was quieter now, more strained than ever. “Let me… gather myself. You’ll need me soon enough.”

I gave him a few seconds to collect himself, then I shoved the doors open, stepping into the blinding light and the scene of devastation beyond.

The cacophony of battle spilled into the castle as I stepped through the doors, my heart hammering against my ribs. The courtyard beyond was in chaos, green plumes of petrifying smoke billowing from the mouths of the summoned Gorgons. They charged through ranks of changelings, their massive hooves thundering against the stone as they turned their foes into twisted statues of terror.

Chrysalis stood at the center of it all, just outside the entrance, her twisted horn glowing bright green as she directed her drones. Her changelings swarmed in waves, trying desperately to overwhelm the gorgons with sheer numbers, but for every few that escaped, dozens more were turned to stone.

Meridin's voice stirred faintly in my mind, a fractured whisper barely audible over the chaos of battle. "This is working... for now. But be wary. She’ll adapt."

I reached into my bag of holding, fingers brushing past scrolls and supplies before pulling free a scroll of Invisibility. With a glance at Chrysalis, I unrolled the parchment, muttering the incantation under my breath. The magic seeped over my skin, wrapping me in a shroud of nothingness.

I took a deep breath, the pounding in my head growing worse with each passing breath, but I pushed through it. “Meridin,” I said softly, keeping my voice low. “I’ll need a distraction.”

“You’re the distraction,” Meridin murmured, his tone laced with faint amusement, though I could hear the strain beneath it.

Ignoring his jab as he began weaving the spell for Major Image. The magic thrummed in my veins, a familiar sensation even as it worsened the ache in my skull. I felt the magic flow as it conjured up an illusion: myself, standing tall and defiant in the center of the courtyard.

The illusion shimmered into existence, a perfect copy of me, holding an illusionary copy of Promise at the ready in its remaining, left hand. Meridin made it appear weathered and battered but alive, a perfect copy of myself. He directed the image forward, stepping into the courtyard while I kept to the shadows, slipping around to Chrysalis’s right.

The illusion’s voice rang out, loud and clear through the chaos. “Chrysalis!” it bellowed, its tone sharp and commanding. “This ends now! Surrender, or I will turn every one of your changelings into statues and shatter them myself!”

Chrysalis’s head snapped toward the sound, her glowing green eyes narrowing in fury. For a moment, she stared at the illusion, her expression flickering between disbelief and outrage. “Impossible!” she hissed, her voice cutting through the air. “You’re dead! I killed you!”

Keeping my voice as low as possible, I whispered to the broken man clinging to my soul. “If she goes for a kill shot then we take off a wing.”

The illusion took another step forward, its face twisted in grim determination. “The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” it replied, its voice filled to the brim with mockery.

Chrysalis snarled, her horn blazing as she fired a crackling beam of emerald energy. The magic shot forward, aimed directly for the illusion’s head.

Promise slid free.

The illusion dissipated the moment Chrysalis’s beam struck, its crackling energy scattering the shimmering image into nothingness. Her hiss of triumph was sharp and venomous, but it quickly turned to confusion as she realized the beam hadn’t met resistance. “What—?”

I acted.

With a thought, I activated Shift. Reality warped around me in an instant, and I materialized behind her, still cloaked in invisibility. Promise was ready in my remaining hand, the magic held within the blade pulsed faintly as if thirsting for blood. My focus narrowed to a single point: her right wing.

With a swift motion, I brought the blade down. The enchanted steel sliced cleanly through her chitinous membrane and joint, severing her right wing with a sickening crunch. Green ichor sprayed from the wound, and Chrysalis let out an ear-splitting scream of pain and fury, her voice shaking the courtyard.

With the blow completed, the veil of invisibility evaporated.

She staggered forward, her remaining wing buzzing erratically as she whirled around, clutching at her bleeding side. Her eyes burned with rage, and her horn flared as she locked onto the spot where I had struck.

“Insolent worm!” she screeched. “I’ll see you burn for this!”

Her horn crackled with violent green energy, the magic building rapidly as she prepared to unleash a devastating beam in my direction. The ache in my head surged, but I gritted my teeth, ready to dodge with a use of Shift or retaliate — whichever came first.

But before she could release her spell, Meridin’s voice rang sharply in my mind, clear and commanding. “Now!”

Chrysalis froze mid-cast, her eyes widening in shock. A faint shimmer of gold and green enveloped her body, and in an instant, she vanished with a flicker of arcane energy. The oppressive hum of her magic ceased abruptly, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

I blinked, staring at the spot where she had stood. “What…?”

Meridin chuckled weakly, the sound teetering between triumph and madness. “Maze,” he said simply. “She’ll be stumbling around an extra-dimensional labyrinth for a bit. Gives us time to deal with her swarm.”

I took a step back, lowering Promise slightly, unable to mask my shock. “You — You just… banished her?”

“It seemed like the right move,” he replied, his tone faintly amused but laced with strain. “You weren’t expecting it? Well, surprises keep things interesting.”

My mind raced, processing what had just happened. I hadn’t planned for this, but as I glanced around at the chaos still raging in the courtyard, I realized it was a golden opportunity that I would be a fool to waste.

“Then let’s make it count,” I said, slipping Promise back into its sheath as I put some distance between myself and where Chrysalis had been banished into the inner workings of the Maze spell.

“Make it count we shall,” Meridin whispered, his voice low but crackling with energy. I felt the sharp sting of his magic brewing, a searing ache behind my eye. The strain was already palpable, and I knew he was pushing himself hard — but we didn’t have the luxury of holding back.

Not like we wanted to.

His voice took on a frayed edge. “First, I’ll still their wings. Then, it's your turn.”

I nodded to no one, keeping my focus sharp despite the pounding in my skull. Around me, the courtyard was alive with chaos: the gorgons’ rampage effectively held the changelings’ attention, their breaths petrifying anything caught in their green clouds. The swarm buzzed erratically, struggling to counter and avoid the onslaught. With Chrysalis’ temporary banishment, her swarm was leaderless and thus far easier to manage safely.

Meridin’s presence flared within me, and I felt the pull of his magic surge outward. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized the spell: Mass Hold Monster. A wave of invisible force rippled through the air, enveloping a wide radius of changelings. One by one, their bodies froze mid-flight, wings locked, limbs stiff. Dozens of them plummeted to the ground, landing with heavy thuds. Those on hoof halted mid-stride, their snarls silenced, their movements stilled.

“Not enough,” Meridin muttered, his tone increasingly jagged, like a blade on the verge of shattering. Another surge, another wave of his magic. A second casting of Mass Hold Monster expanded outward, locking even more changelings in place. The number of moving changelings dwindled, and the roar of their buzzing wings grew quieter, fainter for it.

The pounding in my head intensified, the pain clawing at my focus. I clenched my teeth, shoving it down. “My turn,” I growled, reaching into the well of my own magic.

Channeling the arcane energy through my fingertips, I cast Black Tentacles. The ground beneath a dense cluster of changelings hiding behind a magical shield, erupted with writhing, inky appendages. The tentacles lashed out, gripping and constricting anything within reach, pulling the creatures into an unrelenting stranglehold. Their shield fell along with their concentration.

“More,” I hissed. Another cluster of changelings decided to use their wits, and scatter. For them, I cast an amplified version of Black Tentacles. The area of effect doubled, and was soon filled with the black limbs tangling around, and constricting their prey. The changelings caught in my magic managed faint twitches, their eyes wide with panic as the tentacles took hold.

I staggered slightly, the sharp throbbing intensifying in my head making my vision blur. Meridin’s voice crackled, quieter now, almost entirely fragmented. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” His tone wavered, as if he were speaking both to me and to something long gone. “They’ll fall, one by one. Just like the Vrock did. Just like the Angel did. Just like—”

“Stay with me,” I said under my breath, steadying myself. “I am here, Meridin.”

The gorgons, sensing the stillness in their prey, surged forward. Green plumes of their petrifying breath washed over the trapped changeling swarm. In seconds, entire groups of Chrysalis’s swarm were turned to stone. More and more statues in place of changelings, all scattered across the battlefield that was the courtyard entrance. The gorgons worked relentlessly, their metallic bodies were towering figures that loomed over the now stilled statues of changelings.

As the last changeling within range succumbed to petrification, silence ruled over the courtyard. A silence broken only by the occasional stomp of a gorgon or the groan of stone as the winds shifted. I panted, sweat dripping down my face, the pounding in my skull reaching a height of agony I had never experienced before.

And then, before I could find a way to calm my pounding skull, Chrysalis reappeared in a flash of green and gold. She staggered slightly, disoriented from the Maze, but her eyes quickly refocused — and widened in shock. She took in the scene: her once-mighty swarm now reduced to lifeless stone statues, the gorgons prowling among them like specters of petrification.

Her gaze snapped to me, fury and disbelief burning in her eyes. “What have you done?” she hissed, her voice low and venomous.

I straightened, letting my hand rest on Promise’s pommel, putting on a show of control that I did not feel. The ache in my skull was unbearable now, each pulse of pain threatening to steal my focus, but I refused to show weakness. Not to her. Not again.

“What I had to,” I said simply, my voice carrying across the courtyard. “Your army is neutralized, Chrysalis. No more hiding behind numbers. It’s just you and me now.”

Her horn sparked with emerald light, her expression twisting in fury. “You think this is over? You think I need my swarm to crush a pitiful wretch like you?”

“Maybe you do,” I replied, stepping toward her with deliberate slowness, every movement measured. “Because without them, what are you, really? Just another insect, scrambling for power. Look around.” I gestured to the sea of stone statues. “This is all you have left. And I can undo it all with time — or you can strike me down and make it permanent.”

Her eyes flicked to the petrified changelings, her lip curling. For a moment, I saw hesitation, a crack in her façade. Then it was gone, replaced by that familiar, grating arrogance of hers. “You think I care about them? They’re tools, expendable. I can make more.”

“Irrelevant.” I stated, narrowing my eyes. “With Luna on her way and me standing here, do you really think you’ll have the chance? Time runs short. You’ve already lost, Chrysalis. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

Her horn flared brighter, the energy cracking the air with raw magic. “I’ll make you regret those words,” she spat, the power in her horn growing unstable. “I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” My voice cut through the air, sharper than any blade, as I threw my arms wide. “You’ll kill me? You already tried that!”

She faltered at that. I let her take a moment to digest those words, as her eyes lowered from my face to my chest. Down to where she’d pierced my heart with Promise. Down to where she had killed me.

I pressed on. “You were placing your hopes on having Celestia as a bargaining chip against Luna weren’t you? But Celestia is safe and sound with Luna right now, isn’t she?” I drew Promise an inch from its sheath, letting the blade catch the light. “Think carefully, Queen. No swarm. Blood on your hooves. Two alicorns on their way.”

Her magic flickered, then dimmed. Her breathing was heavy, her chitin practically trembling with barely restrained rage. But she didn’t make a move.

Meridin’s voice scratched at the edge of my mind, distorted and faint. “Sadists… love control. Dangle it… let them believe there’s a way out…” His words trailed into incoherent murmurs, the edges of my vision blurring as the headache found a way to worsen.

I took another step forward. “You pride yourself on being in control, don’t you? On bending others to your will? Then prove it. Stop acting like a cornered animal and show me you’re the queen you claim to be. Negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” she sneered, but I saw the flicker of interest in her eyes. “What could you possibly offer me?”

“Your swarm,” I gestured to the statues again. “I can set them free, but only if you agree to my terms.”

She hesitated, her remaining wing twitching. Her gaze darted to the gorgons still prowling the battlefield, then to the distant horizon, as if expecting reinforcements that wouldn’t come. “And why,” she said slowly, her voice dripping with disdain, “would I trust you not to go back on your word the moment I agree?”

“You shouldn’t trust me,” I admitted. “Which is why this will be bound by magic. A Geas cast upon us both. You’ll agree to my terms, and the spell will ensure we each hold up our ends of the bargain.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze shifting between me, the statues, and the gorgons. Finally, she let out a low, frustrated hiss. “What are the exact terms of this… this ‘Geas’?” she asked, spitting each syllable out.

I took a slow breath, steadying myself against the pounding in my skull. Each pulse of pain felt like a hammer striking the inside of my head, but I kept my expression calm, controlled. This was a delicate moment. If I pushed too hard, she’d dig her heels in; if I wasn’t firm enough, she’d see it as weakness.

Meridin’s voice flickered through my thoughts, disjointed and faint. “Careful… the spider spins its web… but the fly knows the game…” His words trailed into a low hum before he began muttering something indecipherable. I ignored the distraction, focusing entirely on Chrysalis.

“The terms are simple,” I said, keeping my voice low but authoritative. “You will answer and obey all orders given verbally or under the official seal of Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and myself. No orders will be given that will result in your certain death.”

Her eyes narrowed, her sole wing giving an irritated twitch. “And if your little triumvirate starts issuing conflicting commands? Who takes precedence?”

“Luna,” I replied without hesitation. “Her orders will override all others, including mine.”

Chrysalis’s lips curled into a sneer. “Of course. Your precious little moon princess always has to have her way, doesn’t she?”

I responded to her with a one-eyed stare.

Her gaze broke first, eyes flicked to the petrified changelings again, her sneer faltering for the briefest moment. “And how do I know you’ll keep your word? What’s to stop you from breaking the statues as soon as I’m under your spell?”

“If you break the Geas you will wither away until you’re comatose,” I stated. “If I don’t hold up my end of the deal, and free your changelings from their stone prisons, then you will be set free. Besides, think about it. If I wanted to destroy your swarm, I would’ve done so already. I would’ve sent you back to the Maze and set my gorgons to trampling your swarm to dust. At this point, the only real choice you have left is how much you’re willing to lose.”

Her horn sparked faintly, the glow flickering with the faintest tremor of indecision. “You’re insufferable,” she hissed, venom dripping from every word.

“And you’re stalling,” I countered, stepping closer. “Make your choice, Queen. Geas, or we can get about trying to kill each other. Make it quick — my patience grows thin.”

The courtyard fell silent, save for the distant sound of stone grinding as the wind shifted one of the statues. Chrysalis glared at me, her fury evident on every inch of her. But I held firm under that wrathful glare, and through the typhoon of pain that assaulted my mind and body.

Meridin’s voice broke through the quiet, faint and cracking. “A sadist… despises losing control… but a true sadist… knows when to concede… to savor the game…” He laughed then, a broken, raspy sound that was akin to shards of glass scattering across the floor.

Finally, Chrysalis’s horn dimmed, and she straightened. Her pride was a fortress, but even a fortress could crumble under enough pressure.

“Fine,” she spat, the word dripping with bitterness. “Do it. Bind me with your spell. But know this — when I find a way to break it, and I will, you’ll regret ever crossing me.”

I let a faint smirk touch my lips. “Good luck with that. Now hold still.”

Meridin stirred within my mind, his presence flickering like a candle in a storm. His voice reached me, fragmented and strained, though there was a faint, almost bitter amusement threading through it. "Oh, to weave the bonds of compulsion once more... but for a queen of insects? How far I’ve fallen..."

“Can you do it?” I thought, gritting my teeth as another wave of pain throbbed behind my eye.

"Oh, I’ll do it," he replied, his tone slipping between mockery and something hollow. "But this one will pull another thread loose... no matter. That is the whole point of all this, after all."

Chrysalis stood motionless before me, her gaze sharp and unyielding despite the obvious pain from her severed wing. She must have been calculating, searching for any opportunity to twist this in her favor. I didn’t give her the chance.

Meridin’s voice grew louder, though it cracked like splintering ice. "Hold your ground, boy. This will sting... both of us."

A ripple of arcane energy surged through me as Meridin channeled the spell. The air around Chrysalis thickened, shimmering faintly with power. Her eyes darted upward, a faint sneer crossing her face as she braced herself.

And for the first time Meridin spoke through me.

“Queen Chrysalis,” Meridin’s voice boomed through the courtyard, layered with an eerie, otherworldly cadence that commanded the attention of the arcane and mundane alike. “By the unyielding strength of my will and the seals borne by Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Sebastian Hilam, you are bound to heed and execute all commands issued under their banners. Should conflict arise, the decree of the Lunar Princess shall be absolute. In exchange, Sebastian Hilam shall work toward the release of those encased in stone on this day.”

The magic snapped into place with a soundless finality, and Chrysalis flinched, her sneer replaced by a grimace as the Geas locked onto her soul.

The pounding in my head intensified, and I stumbled slightly, catching myself on a nearby piece of rubble. Meridin’s voice faltered, now an unsteady whisper in my mind. "There… done. Another strand frayed... soon, soon I’ll be free..." His words faded into incoherent muttering.

Chrysalis glared at me, her body rigid, and I saw her jaw clench as if testing the limits of the spell. “It’s done,” I said, forcing myself to straighten despite the searing pain coursing through my skull. “Now, listen carefully to what I say next.”

She didn’t respond verbally, but the tension in her body told me she was hanging on every word.

“You will gather any remaining changelings within Canterlot,” I ordered, my voice firm. “And you will leave. Return to your hive. Stay out of Canterlot unless summoned.”

For a moment, she didn’t move, her eyes narrowed into slits. Then, with a sharp exhale, she straightened. “Very well,” she said, the bitterness in her voice thick enough to choke on. “But don’t think this is over. You’ve made an enemy today, Sebastian.”

“You were already my enemy, Chrysalis,” I replied coldly. “That was your choice.”

With a flick of her head, Chrysalis turned, her movements stiff and begrudging. As she began to leave, I felt the tension in the air slowly ebb, though the pounding in my head remained relentless.

"The queen departs," Meridin murmured faintly, his voice drifting like smoke. "Another thread gone... another step closer..."

I watched on as Chrysalis vanished around a corner beyond the courtyard. The battle for Canterlot was over.

The courtyard grew eerily quiet. The petrified changelings stood as silent monuments to the carnage, their twisted forms locked forever in expressions of fear, rage, or defiance. A faint breeze carried the scent of stone dust and scorched air, and the gorgons roamed about, their movements heavy and booming in the quiet of the courtyard.

"They’ve done their part, send them back," Meridin murmured within me, his voice trembling with both weariness and an unhinged edge.

I nodded, and with a flick of my hand, I dismissed the extraplanar bulls of metal and petrification. The gorgons paused, snorted green smoke, and began to shimmer. One by one, they vanished, leaving the courtyard empty save for the statues and the dead.

"Back to their plane," Meridin said softly. "Metal bulls, born of smoke and nightmares… but not nearly as terrifying as the demons I faced in the Outer Rifts. Ah, Sebastian… if you had seen what I’ve seen..."

I turned toward the castle, each step dragging as the pounding in my head grew worse. Meridin’s voice rose, fractured and haunted.

"The Abyss," he continued, his tone slipping into a maddened rhythm, "an endless churning sea of chaos and malice. Countless Abyssal realms. The air tasted like wrath and despair, and the sky bled colors that should not exist."

The world around me rippled, and for a moment, I wasn’t in Canterlot anymore. The stone walls of the castle shifted into grotesque spires of pulsating flesh, the courtyard beneath my feet transformed into a swirling mire of ash and blood. Shadows slithered across the periphery of my vision, their shapes too horrific to focus on.

I stumbled, blinking hard to dispel what I hoped was an hallucination. “Stay with me, Meridin,” I muttered, my voice a plea.

"Stay?" His laugh was sharp and grating. "I’ve stayed too long, boy. Too long tethered to this existence. Too long burdened by memories."

As I passed through the castle’s main entrance, the walls flickered again. For a moment, they became the twisted remnants of a planar battlefield: the Elemental Plane of Fire, perhaps, with molten rivers carving paths through jagged obsidian cliffs. The heat was suffocating, and I could hear Meridin screaming.

"We fought there," he rasped. "Against a malik overlord. Aldin and I… oh, my dear Aldin. Such loyalty, such fire in his heart."

The vision faded, and I found myself back in the castle’s halls, the faint sound of my boots echoing off the walls. The pounding in my skull sharpened, a spike driving through my temples.

"Do you know what it’s like to outlive everything you’ve loved?" Meridin whispered, his voice cracking. "To see them fall while you remain? To carry their faces with you through every plane, every battle, every waking moment? You will."

I pressed forward, clenching my remaining fist. My vision blurred again. This time, I stood in the Shadow Plane, a distorted version of some place on Golarion. Everything from the taste of the air to the vibrance of colors, were dulled. Dark figures moved off in the distance, kytons, umbral dragons, shadows that moved of their own volition, and so much more. As far as my eye could see — denizens of the Netherworld.

"We escaped by the skin of our teeth," Meridin said, his voice a broken echo. "But not all of us… not all of us made it."

I gasped, stumbling as the image shattered, replaced by the familiar stone halls of Canterlot Castle. The wedding hall loomed ahead, its grand doors just as destroyed as they were the last time I’d seen them. My steps quickened, despite the pounding in my head and the tremor in my limbs. I found myself thankful that I did not need to fight those massive doors to enter.

I fear I would’ve lost that battle.

I stepped through the threshold, and the scene before me brought me to my knees, just as it did the last time. There, lying in the center of the ruined hall, was Aldin’s lifeless body.

Meridin’s voice fractured further, teetering on the edge of lucidity. "Aldin… oh, Aldin. My friend. My tether. Some sixty years we traveled together. You kept me sane in the Abyss, in the Inner and Outer Spheres. And now… now you’re gone."

I knelt beside Aldin, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch his still form. The pain in my head was unbearable, but I forced myself to focus, to stay with Meridin in his final moments.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You can let go, Meridin. You’ve earned your peace.”

His laugh was a hollow thing, filled with sorrow and madness. "Peace? There is no peace, Sebastian. Only the cycle. Only the next turn of the wheel."

His voice faltered, and for a moment, he sounded almost lucid, almost whole. "Thank you, Sebastian Hilam. For letting me see this through. For… for being strong."

I wanted to say something, anything. But what does one say to a dying man such as this? What can I say to comfort him? He knew just as well as I did what was coming next for him — a fresh start in existence, just as he’d wanted. I wish someone else was here in my stead. Someone who knew what the passage of eternity felt like. Celestia or Luna would be far better suited for this role than I.

But they weren’t here.

I knelt there, the silence of the wedding hall enveloped me. Aldin’s lifeless corpse rested beneath my hand, but my attention was on Meridin. His presence within me was flickering now, like the last fragile light of a candle guttering in the wind.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking under the weight of the moment. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve endured, for the battles, the loss… for having to outlive so much. No one should carry that burden.”

"Burden..." Meridin’s voice was a faint whisper, tinged with the haunting madness that had clung to him even in these final moments. "It wasn’t just a burden. It was my choice. I chose the fight, Sebastian. I chose vengeance, to walk the planes, to keep the Malignance at bay." His voice trembled, laced with weariness. "But it cost me everything. My friends, my family, my sanity. Even my soul became stretched thin."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak past the lump in my throat. “And despite it all, you endured. You fought for what mattered, Meridin. You’ve saved lives, countless lives, and left a legacy behind. That’s what will be remembered.”

A flicker of warmth passed through me, faint but undeniable. "Remembered... heh. By whom? By the dust of the Abyss? By the void of Nowhere? Memories of me have been unmade, boy. Only the cycle remains. And now… it calls to me. It sings of home."

The pounding in my head intensified, a sharp and relentless ache that made my vision blur. I pressed a hand to my temple, gritting my teeth. “Meridin… I don’t know if you can hear this, but you’re not alone. Not in this moment. I’m here. And I remember you, I never forgot.”

"Aldin…" His voice wavered, breaking into a fragile hum. "My dear companion. My little flame. He held me together, you know. When everyone else was unmade, he remained. Sixty years, Sebastian. Sixty years we lived together. And now… now I leave him behind."

Tears pricked at my eye as I glanced down at Aldin’s body, forever stilled. “You’re not leaving him, Meridin. He’ll follow, just as he always has. The cycle will reunite you both, won’t it?”

There was silence for a moment, then a broken chuckle. "You speak of things you can’t understand, boy. But it’s a comforting thought, isn’t it? To imagine that we might find each other again, somewhere in the endless cycle."

I clenched my fist, my knuckles white. “It’s more than a thought. I believe it, Meridin. I believe that whatever comes next, you won’t face it alone.”

The warmth within me grew fainter, flickering like the dying light of a distant star. "You have a good heart, Sebastian Hilam. A rare thing… in any plane. Thank you… for being the one to see me off. For… for letting me go."

I bowed my head, letting the tears fall freely now. “It’s not goodbye, Meridin. It’s just… until we meet again.”

His voice was barely audible, a mere thread of sound within my mind. "Until we meet again…"

As his presence began to waver, a rare lucidity overcame him, his voice trembling with a fragile hope. “Mother? Father? Aldin? Is that you?”

And then, like a candle’s light devoured by the wind, he was gone. The relentless pounding in my head ceased, leaving behind a vast, hollow ache that stretched forever.

Meridin went home.

The silence that followed Meridin’s passing was deafening. It pressed against me, an invisible weight that refused to let up. For a moment, I couldn’t move. The emptiness left in his wake was a chasm in my chest — in my soul, echoing with the faint memories he’d shared and the agony he’d endured.

I exhaled shakily, forcing my focus back to the present. My gaze fell on Aldin’s lifeless form, still and fragile before me in the center of this ruined wedding hall. The sunlight streaming through the shattered windows seemed harsh, mocking the somber reality I found myself in.

Reaching out, I scooped him into the crook of my left arm, into his favorite sleeping position — although he never would’ve admitted to it. He was lighter than I remembered. My fingers brushed over his feathers, now dulled of their once-bright sheen, and my chest tightened. I should have held him like this more. I should have done so much more.

“You deserved better,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Both of you did.”

Kneeling there, I finally let the exhaustion win. My body screamed in protest — every wound, every strain from the battles I had fought demanded attention I couldn’t hope to give. My right side felt strangely alien, and I didn’t need to look to remember why. The absence of my arm was an angry throb. Half of my world was forever cast into the dark. Each painful wound was another mark dedicated toward my forever mounting failures.

The alley returned to me, unbidden, in vivid detail: the changeling clad in Luna’s form, wielding her voice and visage with an accuracy that twisted my heart. I saw it again — the glint of steel as the blade carved through my face, the fiery agony as darkness swallowed half my vision. The hesitation haunted me too, that moment of desperate conflict where I wanted nothing more than to protect the one I loved, even as she — no, the imposter — sought to end my life. And then, the rage. The unyielding wrath that drove Promise to strike, nearly beheading the creature that dared to wear her face.

It haunted me.

The way her face — everything my eyes then saw — was Luna’s. And yet my strike had been unrelenting, ruthless. Even now, after all that has passed, the image of her lifeless, nearly decapitated corpse lingered in my mind’s eye. My breath caught as I stared at Aldin, the memories surging over me like a relentless tide.

Then came the next image. Chrysalis. Wearing Luna’s form as she drank deep from my love, her eyes filled with heartless satisfaction. Promise in her magical grip. Her words seared into my mind. “Such... devotion, but wasted, don’t you think? You’ll never see her again. You’re nothing but a pawn, clinging to a goddess you’ll never truly understand.”

And then pain. The cold steel of Promise piercing my heart, Chrysalis twisting Luna’s laughter as she delivered the killing blow.

I shook my head sharply, trying to dispel the memories. The wounds she’d left me with — the missing arm and eye, the scars — were nothing compared to the torment she’d carved into my heart and soul.

My grip tightened on Aldin. “You’re gone,” I muttered, as if saying it aloud would solidify the truth. “But I’m still here. I’m… still here.”

From the depths of my soul, I felt it — a presence unlike anything I'd known before. It pulsed within me, a grand wellspring of pure power that coiled around my heart. The sensation was startlingly familiar, reminiscent of the awe-inspiring force Meridin had burned through to allow him to return to the cycle.

There could be no mistaking what this was: Mythic Power.

With trembling resolve, I drew upon that power, shaping it into something beyond what should be possible — a spell I had neither studied nor dared to imagine needing. Yet, in that moment, there was no hesitation. I cast the spell I never wanted to learn, the one I prayed I'd never have to use: Gentle Repose.

The magic enveloped Aldin’s remains, a tender shroud ensuring he would not succumb to decay. It was all I could do for him now, to safeguard what little was left until I could fulfill the duty he deserved: a proper burial.

Time became meaningless as I knelt there on the cold stone floor. Was it minutes? Hours? I couldn’t tell. My breaths came shallow and slow, each one weighed down by the crushing reality of loss. Yet, I stayed, motionless, anchored in the silence of grief.

The sound of approaching hooves broke through the haze. First distant, then louder, accompanied by hurried voices. I didn’t lift my head. I wasn’t ready to face anyone — not yet.

But I heard them. Celestia’s voice, commanding but tinged with worry. Shining Armor, barking orders to what I assumed were the remaining Solar Guard. Cadance’s softer tone, her voice carrying a mixture of sorrow and concern.

Then came Noctra. Her clipped tone, sharp and stoic as always, but with an undercurrent of urgency I had not heard before. And finally, Luna. I heard her before I saw her, her voice trembling with something I couldn’t place.

They were close now. I could feel their presence, the air shifting as they entered the wedding hall.

But I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. Not yet.

The sound of hoofsteps filled the cavernous wedding hall, muted against the shattered remnants of murder and destruction. I remained still, cradling Aldin in the crook of my left arm. My breathing was shallow, uneven. I felt every scar, every ache, every ounce of exhaustion like it was etched into my very soul.

In a way, it was.

“Sebastian!” Luna’s voice cut through the air, sharp with urgency, yet wavering all the same. She was the first to step into my peripheral vision, her silhouette stark against the light flooding through the broken windows. She hesitated for only a moment, taking in the scene before her with wide eyes.

I couldn’t bring myself to meet those eyes. The memories clawed at me — the changeling in the alley wearing her face, and Chrysalis doing the same, smirking as she drank my love for her before ending my life. My vision swam with the phantoms of the past, their laughter a cruel echo in my mind.

“Sebastian…” This time, her voice was quieter, as if afraid her words might shatter me further.

The others filtered in behind her. Celestia, somehow finding a way to be regal even in the midst of this chaos, her gaze filled with restrained horror. Shining Armor, his eyes scanning the room for threats even though the battle that had ruined this hall had long since concluded. Cadance, dressed in a ragged wedding dress, stood beside Shining with a look that screamed pity. Noctra lingered near the entrance, her expression unreadable, though her golden eyes never left me. There were more, more voices of ponies just beyond the threshold of the wedding hall, but I couldn’t bring myself to identify them.

Luna stepped closer, her movements deliberate and slow. Her silver-shod hooves crunched over debris as she closed the distance between us. “Sebastian,” she said again, her voice firmer now.

I finally looked up, and the breath caught in her throat.

Her gaze roamed over me — my missing arm, the sealed wound where my heart had been pierced, the jagged wound across my face where my right eye was destroyed. I could see the horror flicker across her features. The pain she tried — and failed — to conceal.

I cradled Aldin’s lifeless body in the crook of my left arm, his feathers as cold as our now nonexistent link. The half of the world that I could see blurred, dulled by the crushing ache in my chest. I felt hollow, a shell of myself, stripped of so many things I considered irreplaceable.

Then, her gaze. Luna’s eyes, deep pools of understanding and pain, locked onto mine, and I couldn’t bear it. I could not bear the memories, but they came anyway. The memories surged again without mercy — the alley, her stolen face on that changeling, the sickening arc of blades, and Chrysalis’s laughter echoing in my skull. The final, biting memory of Promise turned against me, driven through my flesh, branding the waking nightmare forever onto my soul.

I flinched, tearing my gaze away, but Luna had already moved closer, sitting beside me. Her presence filled the space between us, heavy and unrelenting — familiar in its comfort but suffocating in the face of my shame.

“It’s over,” she said softly, though her words felt brittle, shattering as they hit the air. Her eyes shifted to Aldin, and her features softened, grief carving new lines into her face. “I’m so sorry…”

The apology cracked something in me, splintering my fragile composure. The weight of it all — Meridin, Aldin, the blood-soaked battles, the death — descended upon me like a tempest.

My breath faltered, shaky and uneven, as I lowered Aldin onto the cold, unyielding stone. The words I needed wouldn’t come; nothing would.

Instead, I reached for her, sliding my remaining hand beneath her peytral. I knew exactly where it was. My fingers brushed the scar above her heart, the hidden mark of a thousand-year pain she had survived.

It grounded me in its reality, in her reality.

I let the sensation tether me before pulling her into an embrace. My strength waned, drained by grief and battle and death, and I clung to her like she was the last light in an unending void.

Her wings folded around me, cocooning us in their shelter. They shielded me from the ruined hall, the silent judgment of the watchers, and the specters of the horrors that clung to the air. In their embrace, the world faded away until only she remained — her warmth, her steady heartbeat anchoring me to a fragile thread of sanity.

I pressed my face into the curve of her neck, the familiar scent of lavender and the refreshing chill of the night air just beneath the scent of changeling blood. The tears came unbidden, hot streaks scalding my cheek as I clutched her. A sob tore free from my throat, raw and jagged, carrying the weight of every failure, every loss.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out, the words muffled against her fur. “I… I couldn’t stop her. I—”

“Shh,” she whispered, her voice unsteady but soothing, her breath warm against my ear. She gently ran a hoof along my back, the touch tender and unhurried. “You’re here, Sebastian. That’s all that matters now.”

But her words couldn’t touch the pit inside me. They couldn’t erase the faces that haunted my mind — the ones I failed to protect, the screams I couldn’t silence. Blood stained my hands, my soul, and nothing seemed enough to wash it away.

I clung to her, desperate and trembling, letting the storm within me unravel. The grief, the guilt, the rage — it all surged to the surface, spilling out in uneven breaths and silent cries.

She held me tighter, her wings a sanctuary, her presence soothing against the cruelty of reality.

Within the sanctuary of her love, hidden away from it all, I let myself break.

Perspicacity

A few days had passed since... everything.

Days spent adrift in a haze of dreamless slumber and bedrest, as per the doctor’s orders.

I tried not to dwell on it — the shattered fragments of my life, the choices I’d made, and the consequences they had wrought. But ignoring it was impossible. I had placed myself into the role of being the one to free Chrysalis’ swarm from their petrification. That, and the absence of my right arm and eye, the memory of Aldin’s final moments, and the unbearable knowledge that I had died and been resurrected in a manner that would haunt me for the remainder of my days.

And Luna... I still hadn’t told her. Not the full story. Not about Chrysalis taking her shape. Not about Promise, the very symbol of our love, being used to end my life.

I lied to myself, pretending I was too busy to confront the truth. I clung to the excuse that I needed to finish the designs, that it demanded my full attention. But the guilt of my deception gnawed at me.

I hated liars. And I hated being one.

Morning arrived quietly. The dawn’s light seeped into Luna’s chambers, greatly muffled by the heavy curtains that hung before the tall windows. Golden hues danced faintly along the edges of the room, illuminating the rich blues and silvers of her bedchambers. The low crackle of the fireplace offered a soothing backdrop, filling the air with gentle warmth.

I sat hunched at a desk near the window, the golden light spilling over scattered papers and an inkwell on the surface. The quill in my hand scratched softly against parchment, the sound somehow rhythmic and grating simultaneously. This was the first time I had enough energy to do more than simply eat and sleep. I had been at this all night while Luna was away dealing with the aftermath of the attempted invasion.

Drawing the designs for the platform were maddening. The intricate lines and exacting angles felt impossible to replicate with my left hand. The quill, once an extension of my will and arcane prowess, now felt awkward and alien in my grasp. My strokes wavered and faltered, betraying my frustration with every clumsy movement.

The faint scent of parchment and ink mingled with the fire’s warmth, wrapping the room in a fragile serenity that mocked the storm of emotions inside me. I gritted my teeth, my hand tightening around the quill as I forced myself to keep going. Each flawed line on the page mirrored the growing sense of inadequacy that clawed at my chest.

I was trying.
But it wasn’t enough.

Not enough to finish the designs.
Not enough to silence the memories.
And certainly not enough to face her.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I fumbled the nib along the paper, my lines were crooked and unsteady. I clenched my jaw, I refused to let frustration overwhelm me. This has to work. The platform needed to be perfect — then everything would be okay. I could prove to myself that I could still do this. I could move on from the memories. I could face her.

My right arm — or what was left of it — hung heavily and useless against my side. The phantom sensations were the worst: an itch I couldn’t scratch, a twitch of fingers that no longer existed. The sealed wound at the elbow throbbed faintly, and it was complimented with the ache of my missing right eye. The limited depth perception made drawing feel like a battle, every terrible stroke of the quill a new challenge to overcome.

I glanced down at the parchment and scowled.

The design was a mess — half-formed symbols to represent the necessary parameters for the placement of the Break Enchantment spell, horribly misaligned runes, and uneven dimensions for the platform itself. Not nearly good enough. I crumpled the sheet in my hand and threw it toward the fireplace, watching it fall short and land in a heap on the floor.

The discarded pile of failed attempts beside the desk was growing larger by the minute. A monument to my mounting shortcomings.

With a heavy sigh, I dipped the quill into the inkwell again and started over. My hand trembled as I tried to focus on the first line. The quill dragged unevenly, and a blob of ink spilled onto the parchment. Frustration burned within me, a growl rumbling in the back of my throat.

I slammed the quill down onto the desk, splattering ink across the wood and my sleeve. The noise echoed louder than I’d intended in the quiet room. I returned the quill to the inkwell as I leaned back in the chair, running my hand over my scarred face.

Just then, the door to the chambers opened with a soft creak that barely registered over my ragged breathing and the crackling of the fire. I didn’t look up. I assumed it was a servant or a guard checking in to make sure I didn’t find a way to maim myself further.

“Sebastian,” Luna’s voice was calm but carried an inflection to it that made my chest tighten.

I froze, my hand still covering my face, and felt her presence as she stepped closer. The nearly silent whispers of her silver shoes against the floor reached my ears as she crossed the room. She stopped just behind me, her warmth enveloping me without the need of touch.

“You should be resting,” she said gently with an undercurrent of concern.

I finally dropped my hand and looked over my shoulder. Luna had made it a habit to interact with me from my left side, my good side. She looked regal, another session of Night Court must’ve just concluded then. Her expression was soft, her gaze fixed on me with a mix of worry and something I couldn’t quite place. Was it pity? No… Luna would never pity me.

“I can’t rest,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. “There’s too much to do. If I can’t…” I gestured to the pile of crumpled parchment, my words faltering.

Her gaze flicked to the pile, then back to me. She stepped closer, her wing brushing against my shoulder. “You’ve been through enough. No one expects you to do everything immediately.”

I turned back to the desk, gripping the edge tightly. “I need this to work. For them.”

Her silence told me that she understood. The changelings might have been my enemies once, and I definitely would not call them ‘friends’ or even ‘allies,’ but the Geas bound me as much as it bound Chrysalis. If I did not follow through, if I did not try then the Geas would be undone.

Chrysalis would be freed.

Free to do as she wished without constraint.

I can’t let that happen.

The quill wobbled in the inkwell as I reached for it again, my hand shaking. My fingers barely brushed the shaft before it tipped over, sending ink pooling across the desk and seeping into the fresh parchment.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. “Dammit,” I hissed, slamming my fist against the desk.

“Sebastian.” Luna’s voice was firmer now, and she moved beside me, her wing folding over my shoulder as she gently turned me toward her.

I couldn’t meet her gaze, the sting of frustration and failure and shame burning behind my remaining eye. My head dropped, and my hand clenched into a fist against my thigh.

“I can’t even—” I choked on the words. “I can’t even do this right.”

She reached out, her hoof brushing against my scarred cheek as she tilted my head upward. “You’re trying,” she said softly. “That’s more than enough right now.”

Her touch lingered for a moment, gentle and steady, as though her touch alone would prevent me from spiraling further. She was right. I swallowed hard, blinking back the moisture threatening to spill over. Luna had a way of seeing straight through me, past the scars and the anger, down to the ache I tried so desperately to bury.

It was infuriating. I loved her for it.

"I…" My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. "I'm sorry. For being like this."

She tilted her head, her mane shimmering faintly in the light filtering through the curtains. "Like what?"

I gestured vaguely at the desk, the ink-stained mess of parchment, and my slumped posture. "This. Moody. Useless. I'm not handling this well, and you're…" I trailed off, unable to finish.

Her expression softened, a flicker of something like sadness crossing her face. "You’ve lost much, Sebastian. It’s natural to feel what you’re feeling."

I wanted to argue, to tell her I didn’t have the right to wallow in my feelings when there were others that didn’t get to come back, that I hadn’t told her everything. But the words caught in my throat.

Luna’s gaze shifted past me, and for the first time I noticed the faint smell of cinnamon in the air. She stepped back, her wing brushing against my shoulder as she turned toward the bed.

“Come,” she said, her tone carrying just enough authority to make it clear that this wasn't a request. “You’ve worked enough.”

It was only then that I noticed the tray sitting on her bed, a modest breakfast for two laid out with meticulous care. The sight of it — two bowls of oatmeal, slices of toast, and an apple — was almost comical in its simplicity. Yet the effort she had put into it, the thoughtfulness behind even something so small, made my chest tighten further.

I paused, awkward and unsure, before summoning the will to follow her. Every motion felt alien, my balance skewed without my right arm and without my right eye my depth perception was distorted. Luna didn’t so much as look away or shift impatiently — she simply waited, her calm patience soothing some of my unease. When I reached her side, I sank down to her right on the edge of the bed, acutely aware of the gap between her graceful stillness and my clumsy approach.

She held the tray in her aura, and brought it closer. The apple caught my eye immediately, its skin was completely removed, leaving behind only the smooth fruit. My mouth opened slightly, and for a moment I just stared.

“You hate the skin,” Luna said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The realization hit me. She’d remembered. Out of everything happening — the chaos of rebuilding, the aftermath of the invasion alongside all of her duties — she had taken the time to remember something so small, so insignificant, just to make things a little easier for me.

The knot in my throat returned with a vengeance, and this time I couldn’t fight it. Tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them.

“Sebastian?” Her voice was soft, concerned, but I couldn’t look at her. I pressed my remaining hand to my face, trying to smother the sob that escaped.

“Sorry,” I managed to choke out. “I don’t… I don’t know why this is—”

“Shh,” she said gently, scooching closer to me. Her wing curled around my back, pulling me close.

The warmth of her presence, the steady rhythm of her breathing, was more than I could handle. The tears came harder, and I leaned into her without thinking, burying my face against her neck.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, her voice a soothing hum. “Let it out.”

I didn’t deserve this kindness, this patience. I didn’t deserve her. Yet she held me as though none of that mattered.

Minutes passed — maybe more — before the sobs finally subsided. My breathing slowed, and I pulled back slightly, wiping at my face with my sleeve.

Luna’s gaze met mine, calm and steady, with no trace of judgment or pity. “Do you feel better?”

I nodded, though the lump in my throat hadn’t entirely faded. “A little.”

“Good.” She nudged the tray closer with her magic, her tone turning slightly teasing. “Eat, before it gets cold. I’ll not have you wasting my efforts.”

A shaky laugh escaped me, and I nodded again, picking up the spoon she’d thoughtfully placed on the tray. The cinnamon warmth of the oatmeal settled in my chest, soothing yet heavy, as if the comfort of it lifted some of the weight of everything I had been holding back. Luna had made this for me — every detail deliberate, from the toast's perfect golden edges to the skinned apple waiting on the tray. Her care was in every morsel, each a quiet proclamation of her love and affection.

And here I sat upon her bed, eating, breathing, truly alive because of her.

Yet my mind refused to stay in the present. It wandered back to the cold emptiness of death, and the sensation of Chrysalis tearing through my soul to feast on my love for Luna as if it were nothing but simple fuel for her twisted hunger. The memory clawed at me, vivid and unrelenting. I glanced at Luna, who was carefully chewing her toast, her eyes occasionally flicking to me with a warmth that chased some of the shadows away. She didn’t know the finer details of my death, just that I had died.

The guilt sat heavy in my stomach, far heavier than the oatmeal. I was keeping this from her. The truth of what had happened, of how the symbol of our love had been violated so thoroughly.

"Sebastian," Luna's voice broke through my thoughts, gentle but firm. Her eyes met mine, piercing and filled with concern. "Are you unwell? You’ve grown quiet."

I blinked, realizing I had stopped eating, my spoon suspended midair. Shaking my head, I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "No, I’m fine. Just… tired, I suppose."

She studied me for a moment longer, her gaze probing but not pressing. “You’re allowed to be tired,” she said softly, her hoof gently patting my thigh before she returned to her meal.

The simplicity of the gesture — the way she acknowledged my struggles without demanding more than I could give — turned my chest into a vice. I took another bite of oatmeal, forcing myself to focus on the present, on the care she had poured into this moment. But it wasn’t enough to banish the ache building inside me.

My eyes drifted to the apple she had skinned for me. A small, simple thing, but in its simplicity it meant the world. She had remembered. Out of everything she had to juggle — managing the aftermath of Chrysalis’s invasion, her duties as a princess, her concerns for my well-being — she had remembered that I hated apple skins. She had taken the time to peel it herself, ensuring it was just the way I liked it.

That was the breaking point.

My vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them. I set my spoon down, my hand trembling slightly as I tried to steady my breathing. The tray in front of me became a distorted mess of colors through my tears.

"Sebastian?" Luna’s voice was soft but alarmed. I felt the bed shift as she moved closer, her presence grounding yet overwhelming in the moment. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, trying to speak but finding my throat too tight to form words. My hand clenched into a fist on my lap, frustration and guilt mixing with the overwhelming love I felt for her. She deserved better than my silence, better than my half-truths.

Luna didn’t press me. She simply used her magic to set our food aside and waited. Her hoof resting lightly atop my hand, her touch telling me that she was here, and that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to choke out, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry for… for shutting you out. For being like this. You’ve done so much, and I—” My words faltered as the weight of everything threatened to crush me.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said firmly, her voice steady but gentle. “Whatever burden you carry, you do not carry it alone. I am here.”

Her words only made the guilt heavier. How could I tell her? How could I explain the depths of what Chrysalis had done without reopening the wound? How could I tell her without making her feel the pain I had endured?

But she deserved to know. She deserved the truth, no matter how painful it was for me to share. I took a shaky breath, wiping at my eye as I tried to gather the courage to speak.

“Luna,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. My gaze met hers, and I saw nothing but patience and love in her eyes. It gave me the strength to continue. “There’s… something I haven’t told you. About what happened with Chrysalis. About how she… how she killed me.”

Luna’s ears perked, and her serene expression faltered, giving way to a flicker of concern. Her pupils narrowed slightly, not yet to slits but enough to betray the storm beginning to brew beneath her calm exterior. She shifted closer, her wing draping protectively over me, the soft feathers brushing against me.

“You are safe now,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with an edge of worry. “Speak freely, my love. Whatever you tell me, I shall bear it with you.”

I swallowed, feeling the weight of what I was about to say pressing down on my chest. Her wing tightened its hold, as if sensing my hesitation. She was so close, her presence a comfort and proof of why I needed to say this. I couldn’t keep this from her any longer.

“She… she fed on me, Luna,” I began, the words tumbling out unevenly. “My memories. My love for you. She twisted it, mocked it, and fed on it.”

Luna stiffened beside me. Her breath hitched, and I noticed her pupils beginning to elongate into slits. The room grew colder, the very air around us responding to the emotions welling up within her. But she didn’t speak yet. She waited, giving me the space to continue.

“She changed into you.” My voice cracked, the memory hurting far worse than I expected it to. “Perfectly. Your mane, your face, even your voice. She… she used your form to get more, to make it hurt more. She said my love for you was a leash, a weakness she could exploit. And then…”

I closed my eye, trying to steady myself. I felt Luna’s hoof rest on my hand, her touch easing some of the weight from my heart. The gentle gesture encouraged me to press on.

“She used Promise,” I said, my voice trembling. “She laughed, and said it was poetic… killing me with the very thing that represents my love for you. Then she drove it through my heart. ”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I could feel the air in the room shift, growing heavy with the potency of Luna’s emotions. Her hoof trembled against my hand, and when I dared to look up, her pupils had fully turned to slits. Fangs, sharp and gleaming, were bared in a snarl, and her mane swirled violently.

“She dared,” Luna hissed, her voice lower and colder than I had ever heard it before. It sent a shiver down my spine, not out of fear but because of the sheer enormity of her fury. “That wretched insect dared to use my image, my love, my Promise to harm you?”

Her wing pulled me closer, as if shielding me from the very memory of what I had endured. The room itself seemed to tremble under the presence of her rage. Shadows trembled and the light of dawn reeled away from us as her magic stirred the air.

“She will pay for this,” Luna growled, her voice was the sound of a blade being unsheathed. “I shall tear her kingdom asunder, leave no stone unturned until she is dragged before me. She will suffer for every moment of agony she inflicted upon you, Sebastian. For every mockery she has made of us.”

I placed a hand under her peytral, feeling the rapid beat of her heart through her scarred chest. “Luna,” I said softly, hoping to reach her through the haze of her fury. “Don’t—”

Her head snapped down, her slit-pupiled gaze boring into mine. The intensity in her eyes was overwhelming, a mix of anger, pain, and something deeper and primal. “Do not ask me to temper this, Sebastian,” she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. “Not this. She defiled what is sacred between us. She hurt you in a way that no blade or magic ever could. There will be no forgiveness.”

I didn’t flinch from her gaze. Instead, I nodded, understanding the depth of her anger better than anyone. This wasn’t just about me. It was about everything we shared, everything Chrysalis had violated. And I knew Luna would stop at nothing to make her pay.

I did not know if I could calm her, but I had to try.

Luna’s mane continued to swirl, her eyes glowing with an unearthly light. She leaned closer, her voice like thunder rolling across a storm-tossed sea. “I will kill her, Sebastian. For what she has done to you… to us. I will end her.”

The intensity in Luna’s voice was palpable in the very air itself, each word vibrating the space around us with her fury. Her pupils had already narrowed into razor-thin slits, and the faint gleam of her fangs caught the ambient light as her lips curled in an unrestrained snarl. The air around her crackled with energy, her mane whipping and swirling as though it were a living storm made up entirely of stars in the night sky

I sat up slightly, ignoring the dull aches that surged through my body. “Luna,” I said, my voice steady but soft. “Please, listen to me.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, and for a moment, the raw anger there was nearly overwhelming. But beneath it, I caught a flicker of something else — pain, deep and unyielding, borne from the thoughts of what had happened. What she couldn’t prevent. What had been taken from us both. I held onto that, anchoring myself against her tempestuous wrath.

“She deserves to die,” Luna hissed, her voice lowering into something primal. “Her actions demand retribution, and I will deliver it.”

“I know,” I replied, the weight of her words settling over me like a stone. “What she did was unforgivable. She took my life, Luna. She used Promise — a piece of you — to do it. There’s no justice for that.”

Her mane lashed, dark tendrils coiling in agitation. “Then why do you speak as if I should stay my hoof?” Her voice cracked with restrained fury, the glow in her eyes nearly burned in their intensity.

“Because killing her will only bring us more pain,” I said, locking my gaze with hers. “Think about it. Chrysalis doesn’t exist in isolation. If you take her life, her changelings will have a martyr and will come after you, after us. They’ll seek vengeance for their queen.”

Her expression faltered, her fury briefly giving way to consideration. I pressed on, determined to make her see what Meridin had made me see. To help her understand why Meridin and I turned to the Geas instead of something far more satisfying, like the Death Clutch spell.

“Do you want us to live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders? Always wondering if the pony next to us is who they claim to be? Always questioning whether some changeling assassin will come for you, or me, or…” I hesitated, then let the name fall. “Celestia?”

Luna flinched at her sister’s name, her jaw tightening. I could see the conflict brewing within her eyes, the desire for vengeance clashing against the deeper instinct to protect those she cared for most.

“This isn’t about forgiving Chrysalis,” I continued, my voice firm but laced with the gentleness I knew she needed to hear. “It’s about protecting those we love from the fallout of her death. If we kill her, we’re inviting chaos into our lives — into their lives.”

Her wings flared, the force of her frustration manifesting in the sharp snap of their movement. “And yet, you would have me allow her to live after what she has done? After she dared to wield Promise against you?”

“No,” I said quickly, meeting her fiery gaze without flinching. “This isn’t about letting her go unpunished. This is about choosing the path that spares us more suffering. We’ve already lost so much, Luna. I’m asking you not to let her take even more from us.”

Her mane stilled slightly, the chaotic motion slowly ebbing as she processed my words. Her breathing alongside her heart rate slowed, though her expression remained tight with suppressed rage. “And what would you have me do instead?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense. “Simply wait? Allow her to roam free? Unchallenged?”

“No,” I said again. “She is under a Geas, a spell in which she will have to take nonlethal commands from you, Celestia, and me. We can fight her, undermine her, depose her even — without plunging us into a blood feud with an entire race of shape-shifters. Let her fear us. Let her know she can’t touch us again without consequences. But don’t let her goad us into a mistake that costs us far more than we’ve already lost. I have already lost my best-buddy. I can not bear the thought of losing you too.”

For a long moment, there was silence. Luna stared at me, her glowing eyes searching mine. The energy in the room remained charged, but the storm within her seemed to quiet, if only slightly.

“You would spare her not for her sake,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of reluctant understanding, “but for ours.”

I nodded. “Because my love for you is greater than my hate for her. This isn’t about mercy. It’s about choosing a future where we can live without the constant threat of retaliation. Where we can heal. Where we can live.”

From the palm of my hand I could feel the tension in her body loosen, and though her pupils remained slitted, the fangs peeking from her lips began to recede some. Her mane shifted into a calmer rhythm. The wrathful storm abating, and granting passage back to the light of day.

Her voice softened, though the underlying anger remained. “You are wise, Sebastian. Wiser than I, in this moment.”

“Please, thank Meridin. It was his wisdom, not mine, that stopped me from doing just what you were about to do. And besides, it’s not wisdom,” I said, my hand falling down to take up her hoof. “It’s selfishness. I just want to protect you, and us. To keep what we have left safe.”

Her hoof rested in my hand, the faintest quiver betraying the depth of her emotions. “You speak of protection, yet it is I who failed to protect you, my love. You suffered… died… because of my failure.”

I shook my head. “No. What happened wasn’t your fault. Chrysalis is the one to blame. Not you.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the guilt warring with her anger. Slowly, she lowered herself to sit beside me, her mane draping over us like a curtain of night. “It pains me,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “To think that I must restrain myself when every fiber of my being demands her destruction.”

I leaned closer, slinging my good arm around her. “It’s not easy. But it’s the right choice.”

Luna’s eyes closed, and for a moment, she simply breathed. When she opened them again, the glow had dimmed and her pupils returned to their usual circular shape, though the resolve within them remained unshaken.

“Very well,” she said, her tone carrying the weight of her decision. “For you, and for those I cherish, I will stay my hoof — for now.”

I nodded, relief washing over me, but a part of me was disappointed. A significant part of me wanted Luna to charge out and kill the damned queen. Even though I knew that it would ignite a conflict on a yet unknowable scale, I still desired revenge.

How could I not?

I knew this wasn’t the end of her anger, nor of her desire for vengeance. It was simply postponed, redirected toward a purpose that would hopefully serve us all better.

Luna’s mane gradually lost its tempestuous swirl, settling back into its usual calm, starry flow. Her glowing eyes dimmed, the intense light softening to their familiar, comforting cyan. Her breathing slowed as the storm of emotions that had consumed her began to subside. She leaned back slightly, her focus shifting as she glanced toward the small bedside table.

Surprised, I followed her gaze and blinked. Our food was still there — intact, and sitting upon the tray she had brought it all in on. My mind registered the aroma of cinnamon, warm and inviting, cutting through the tension to remind us that we were in fact still hungry.

“You saved breakfast?” I asked, half in disbelief, the corners of my mouth twitching upward despite the lingering severity of our conversation.

“Of course,” she replied, her tone steady but still carrying a faint trace of lingering emotion. “You need nourishment, especially after… everything.”

I glanced at the food and then at Luna. The fire in her eyes had dimmed greatly, from wrath to compassion. In her fire, I found it impossible to be burned. Instead, I found my self-doubts being turned to ash. Laying bare my most painful memory had lessened the tight knot of pain in my chest. It didn’t erase what had happened, but sharing it had granted me some measure of peace.

Shifting carefully on the bed, mindful of my missing arm, I reached for the tray and pulled it closer. The oatmeal was still warm, the scent of cinnamon enticing. “You made this, right?” I asked, spooning up a bite and tasting it. The blend of sweetness and spice was perfect, soothing in a way that only something home cooked with love could be.

Luna’s ears twitched slightly, and her face took on a not-so-subtle display of pride. “Yes, I wished for you to have something both hearty and comforting.”

“It’s incredible,” I said earnestly. “Seriously, I didn’t know you were such a good cook. And…” I picked up the apple, its skin neatly removed. This time I was able to keep myself from breaking down over something as simple and heartfelt as a skinned apple. “Thanks again for skinning this for me. You really thought of everything.”

Her expression softened further, and a faint smile graced her lips. “You are recovering. It is the least I could do.” She paused, her gaze flicking to my toast and then back to me, as though gauging whether I was eating enough.

I returned to the oatmeal, taking a few more bites before nibbling on the toast. The act of eating was cathartic, something simple and normal after such an emotionally charged moment was invaluable. Luna remained nearby as she ate alongside me, her presence steady and reassuring. She didn’t press me with words. Instead, she took up her own bowl, allowing her own tension to ease further as we ate.

When I finished the oatmeal and started on the apple, I glanced at her again. Luna was already finished with her meal, her bowl set aside. “You know,” I said between bites, “you’ve really outdone yourself. I don’t think I’ve had a better breakfast in… well, ever.”

Her smile grew, this time with a trace of playfulness. “Flattery, Sebastian?”

“Not flattery — truth,” I replied, grinning. “If this whole ruling-the-night thing ever gets old, you might have a future in culinary arts. I bet you’d bake some amazing moon cakes!”

A soft laugh escaped her, and the sound filled the room, lifting the last remnants of heaviness from the air. She moved to sit beside me on the bed, her hoof resting lightly atop my leg, her eyes watching me closely once more.

As I took my last bite of the apple, Luna shifted slightly, her demeanor turning thoughtful. Her gaze met mine, steady and intent, as though she were weighing her next words carefully.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice quieter now, carrying an undertone of vulnerability that she reserved for asking questions that pertained to her heart. That tone never failed to catch my attention. “There is something I must ask of you.”

I tilted my head, curious. “What is it?”

She exhaled softly, her eyes never leaving mine. “You are already spending your bedrest here, as prescribed.” A faint blush tinged her cheeks, but she pressed on. “And it is… agreeable, having you here more often. More than agreeable. It feels right.”

I blinked, caught off guard but intrigued.

Luna hesitated for only a moment before continuing. “I would like for you to remain. Permanently. Move into my chambers. Not just for bedrest, but… always.”

Her words sank in, and a warmth spread through me, banishing the chill that had lingered from earlier. “You mean that?” I asked, although it was a completely unnecessary question. Her sincerity was crystal clear in her expression.

She nodded. "I do. I want you here. With me. Not just for bedrest, but… always. Move into my chambers. Be with me, not just in the night, but in all things.”

For a moment, I could only stare at her, the significance of her words sinking in. Then I smiled, a genuine, unrestrained smile that felt like the first in far too long. It felt weird to smile like this, with this new scarred face of mine. It all felt rougher and stretched, but nothing could’ve stopped me from smiling in this moment.

“Yes,” I said, the word carrying a level of certainty in them that had been missing since before the ‘unknown’ threat had made itself known. “I’d love that.”

Luna’s face lit up with pure joy, her eyes soft and warm as she leaned into me. The usual ethereal flow of her mane seemed to slow, as her emotions bled into the magic animating it. She shifted to lie across my lap, draping herself with an ease that spoke of the numerous days we had already spent together, both in this room and out. Her silver shoes caught the light of the rising sun, but I only had eyes for her.

"Then it is decided," she declared, her voice laced with satisfaction. “You are mine in all ways, Sebastian, and now my chambers shall be yours as well.”

Her possessiveness might have unnerved me once upon a time, but now it wrapped around me like a protective cocoon. I ran my hand down her side, feeling the sleek softness of her coat, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, and her faint shivers when my fingers traced scars. “You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?” I teased, letting my fingers linger at her ribs, where I knew one of her scars lay.

“Perhaps,” she admitted, her tone playful yet unrepentant. “Would you have me wait for you to come to your senses? I think not. It might have taken months.” She shifted slightly, pressing an ear above my heart, as if to ensure it was still beating. “Besides, you belong here. This is where you are safe, where you are needed, and…” Her voice softened. “Where you are loved.”

I felt my heart ache at her words, a mingling of gratitude and guilt. I still bore the scars — physical and emotional — of what Chrysalis had done, and though I’d tried to push the memories aside, they lingered. Luna seemed to sense the shift in my mood, tilting her head to look up at me, her mane flowing down her shoulder like a silken curtain.

“You doubt my claim?” she asked, her voice gentler now, the teasing edge giving way to something deeper.

“No,” I replied quickly, brushing my hand through her mane. The texture was cool and soft, like liquid midnight between my fingers. “I’ve never doubted that. It’s just… I should have told you sooner.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but in a quiet insistence that I continue. “Speak, my dear consort.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “When Chrysalis killed me…” The words felt jagged, scraping as I forced them out. "She took your shape. I know it wasn't you, but it still kind of bothers me."

Luna went still. Her mane, ever shifting, seemed to lose some of its luster, the motion slowing as though stilled by her thoughts. “She…” Luna’s voice was quiet, almost hollow. “She looked like me?”

I nodded. A phantom pain stabbed through my heart as I remembered the grotesque perfection of Chrysalis’s disguise — the cruel mimicry of Luna’s grace and strength, twisted into a weapon. “Exactly like you,” I said, my voice thick with the memory. “She used your face, your voice. She made it…” My words faltered, the memory still too raw.

Luna didn’t speak for a long moment, her eyes darkening as her expression shifted — first to anger, but then her anger gave way to something far more complex. A mixture of sorrow, guilt, and an emotion I couldn’t quite name. Slowly, deliberately, she removed her crown, peytral, and shoes with her magic, setting it all onto the bedside table in a series of quiet clinks. Then, to my surprise, her horn glowed again, and the magic in her mane began to dissipate.

The shimmering stars faded first, winking out one by one, leaving her hair a deep, midnight blue. Without the ethereal magic to animate it, her mane fell around her shoulders, smooth and heavy. She ran a hoof through it, her movements deliberate as she let it settle in a way I’d only seen her mane like this twice before. Once on the very first day we met, and the other more recently when we stood beside me in the rain.

“Is this better?” she asked quietly, her voice subdued. “Do I look less like the monster who dared to wear my face?”

The sight of her like this — raw and unadorned — soothed the pain within my heart. I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing against the soft fur there. “You could never look like her,” I said, my voice firm. “She tried to mimic you, but she could never be you. You’re more than your looks, Luna. You’re everything she could never touch.”

Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world rested in that gaze. Then she leaned into my touch. She was so warm against my palm.

“You are mine,” she said again, softly this time, as if the words were more for herself than for me. “And no creature — changeling or otherwise — will ever take you from me again.”

Luna’s words wrapped around me, heavy with an unshakable resolve that comforted me. Perhaps those words should have unsettled me, but when I looked into her eyes all I felt was safe. Her mane, now free of its usual magic, framed her face in dark waves that softened her sharp features. She was breathtaking in a way that made my chest ache in all the right ways.

I lowered my hand from her cheek, resting it against the side of her neck, feeling the steady rhythm of her pulse beneath my fingertips. “I’m lucky to have you,” the words came easily, carrying a truth that was borne from my heart, and solidified in the crucible of my struggles.

Her lips curved faintly, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Lucky,” she echoed. Her gaze fell to the stump of my right arm, then to where Promise had pierced my heart, and finally ending on the ruins of the right side of my face and my right eye. “If you were with someone else — anyone else — perhaps you might still have your arm, your eye… Aldin. You might not have died.”

For a moment it felt like Promise had returned to rest in my heart again, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I tightened my grip ever so slightly. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But nothing in life is certain, Luna. If things had been different, maybe something worse would’ve happened. Or maybe something better.” I paused, my voice softening. “All I know is that I have the love of my life, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

Luna’s gaze softened, and I could feel some tension leave her. She exhaled a slow breath, the faintest tremor running through her as she leaned closer, her wing draping over me with protective warmth. “You speak as though I am worth all you have lost.”

“You are.”

Her eyes closed briefly, and when she opened them again, there was a depth to her gaze that stole the breath from my lungs. “I do not deserve you, Sebastian,” she murmured.

“You deserve far better than me,” I replied, my lips twitching into the closest thing to a smile I could manage. “However, I’m afraid our time together has made me greedy, so I’m not letting you go.”

For a long moment, she said nothing, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my heart race. Then, without a word, she shifted closer, her mane brushing against my arm. The strands were impossibly soft like silk and carrying the faint scent of lavender. Then, slowly, a tear slid down her cheek, though she smiled through it.

“You are maddening, Sebastian Hilam,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Good,” I replied with a small smile, leaning closer. “I’d hate to be boring.”

That earned a soft laugh from her, and before I could say anything more, she closed the distance between us. Her kiss was soft, tender, and lingering, and it felt like the world melted away for a moment. The warmth of her touch, the taste of cinnamon still faintly on her lips — it was all I needed to remind me why everything I’d endured was worth it.

When she pulled back, her gaze remained fixed on mine, her cheeks tinted with the faintest blush. “You’re quite the romantic, my love. I didn’t expect it when we first met.”

I smirked. “What can I say? You bring it out of me.”

Luna laughed at that. Her laugh was a melody, a song I realized that I wanted to listen to every day for the rest of my life.

I reached out, threading my fingers gently through her midnight locks. “You’re beautiful,” I said, the words slipping free before I could think better of it. “I mean, you’re always beautiful, but like this… with your hair down…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain the way she looked so real, so untouchable yet so tangible all at once. “Gorgeous.”

Luna’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks darkening with a blush that made her look almost shy. “You see me as no other does,” she whispered, her voice tinged with wonder.

“Because no one else loves you the way I do,” I replied.

Her lips trembled, and a genuine, unguarded smile graced her face. It was a small and fleeting smile, but it was enough to set my heart at ease.

After a few moments of silence, Luna’s lips quirked into a playful grin, her mood shifting into something lighter. “Well,” she said, her voice taking on a playful lilt, “if you’re moving in, I’ll have to make room in the wardrobe. And you’ll have to endure my company at all hours, not just during the night.”

“I think I’ll survive,” I replied, a teasing edge to my tone. “As long as I get to keep moments like this.”

Luna’s smile turned sly as she stretched out luxuriously, rolling in my lap until she was laying with her back down with her head resting on my lap. Her mane — still free of its ethereal flow and stars — spilled over my legs in a wave of silken midnight, and her eyes sparkled with playful mischief as she looked up at me.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice taking on a light, teasing tone, “sharing chambers is no small matter. Are you prepared for the challenges that come with living with royalty?”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking down at her. “Challenges? Like what? Endless comfort? A view that rivals the heavens? Or is it the occasional royal decree to cuddle?”

She laughed, her hoof gently brushing my chest. “All of the above. Though, you’ll also have to endure my… peculiarities.”

“Oh no,” I said, feigning shock. “Not peculiarities. What kind of horrors am I signing up for?”

Her eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “For one, I can be rather stubborn about keeping the room cold, even in winter. You’ll have to contend with that.”

“Good thing I run warm,” I quipped, resting my hand lightly on her shoulder. “And stubbornness? Please, that’s nothing new. Have you met yourself?”

She gasped dramatically, her hoof flying to her chest. “Such accusations! Perhaps I should reconsider allowing you into my sacred chambers.”

I laughed, the sound feeling strangely easy and unforced. “You’re the one who insisted. Don’t back out now.”

Her grin softened, and she tilted her head slightly, her expression taking on a more tender quality. “I mean it, you know. I want you here. This is your home now as much as it is mine.”

The sincerity in her voice filled my chest with warmth as I ran my fingers through her mane, marveling at how something so simple could feel so intimate. “You’ve already made it feel that way,” I admitted. “I didn’t think I’d ever find a place where I would truly belong… but with you, it’s different. Home is where you are.”

She reached up, her hoof brushing against my arm. “You’ve given me more than you realize, Sebastian. And you’re mine. No matter what comes, you are mine.”

The possessiveness in her voice sent a shiver down my spine — not of fear, but a sense of being anchored to her in a way that felt so wonderfully unshakable. It was a sensation that I yearned for. I leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that sent my mind spinning and my heart racing.

When we broke apart, she sighed contentedly, shifting to return to her former position as princess of my lap. “You’ll have to adjust to the grandeur of my wardrobe,” she mused, her tone playful once more. “I suppose I could set aside a few drawers for you. Perhaps even a corner of the closet.”

“How generous,” I said dryly, though the smile tugging at my lips gave me away. “I’ll try not to clutter the place.”

“Mhm, I’m sure you will,” she replied, poking my side with her hoof. “And don’t think I’ll tolerate any of those mismatched socks you seem to favor.”

“Hey, mismatched socks have character,” I countered, laughing. “But fine, I’ll keep the chaos to a minimum. For you.”

She hummed in approval, her tail flicking lazily. “And in return, I promise to make the adjustment worth your while.”

Luna's playful smirk lingered as she shifted slightly, her wings spreading lazily along the cushions of the bed, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She stretched her forelegs upward, her sleek, powerful frame on full display, and her mane spilled further across my lap like a cascade of liquid shadow. Her eyes, half-lidded, sparkled with a mixture of mischief and something far more agreeable.

“Oh, Sebastian,” she purred, her voice dipping into a richer, sultry tone. “You say you’ll keep the chaos to a minimum, but we both know better. I’ve seen how you handle your room.”

“Hey,” I protested, a grin tugging at my lips as I unnecessarily brushed her mane away from her face. “Organized chaos is still a form of order. Besides, you’re one to talk! I’ve seen you when you’re preparing for Night Court.”

She gasped, feigning indignation, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement. “I am a princess, Sebastian. My ‘chaos,’ as you call it, is calculated. Strategic, even.”

“Strategic, huh?” I leaned down slightly, my fingers tracing idle patterns along her chest. “I guess that makes us a perfect match, doesn’t it? A pair of chaotic masterminds.”

Her laughter was soft and warm, her hoof reaching up to lightly bat at my chest. “Careful, consort. You will only embolden me.”

“Maybe that’s all part of my master plan,” I teased, letting my hand trail down her side. Her fur was soft beneath my touch, and the warmth of her body seeped so pleasantly into mine. It was a sensation I could get lost in, an addictive cure for the raw emotions that had raged inside me since… everything.

Luna shifted again, propping herself up slightly so her head rested more comfortably in my lap. Her mane, loose and untamed, framed her face in a way that was undeniably captivating. She watched me intently, her expression softer now, the teasing glint in her eyes giving way to something more tender.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice quieter but no less assured, “I truly do want this. Not just the shared chambers, but all of it. You, here with me. You’re not just my consort or my apprentice. You’re…” She hesitated for the briefest moment, searching for the words. “You’re a part of me now.”

Her admission struck something deep within me, and I found myself momentarily at a loss for words. Instead of fumbling out some foolish words and embarrassing myself, I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that was a wordless promise of everything I couldn’t hope to put into words. Her hoof rose to rest gently above my heart, anchoring me to her, and the world outside of this moment faded into irrelevancy.

When we finally parted, her eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks faintly flushed. She regarded me with an expression that felt like it could unravel every carefully guarded piece of myself I’d tried to hold together.

“You’re dangerous,” I murmured, my thumb brushing along her jawline as I marveled at the sight of her like this — unguarded, beautiful in a way that felt almost otherworldly.

“Dangerous?” she repeated, arching an elegant brow. “I could say the same of you.”

“Fair enough,” I admitted with a soft chuckle. “But you’re the one who could command armies or reshape the night sky. I’m just a stubborn wizard who stumbled into your life.”

Her lips curved into a smile that was equal parts fondness and possession. “You underestimate yourself, my love. You’ve faced horrors that would have driven most to madness or despair. You turned an army to stone. You’ve given me something I thought lost long ago.” Her hoof brushed against my scarred face, her touch lingering. “You’ve taught me what it means to love and be loved.”

Her words wrapped around me, soothing an ache that had remained unknown to me until now. My fingers continued their gentle exploration of her mane, marveling at the weight and texture of it, the way it framed her features so perfectly. The fact that she did this for me…

“I love you, Luna.”

“I love you too, Sebastian.”

For a while, we simply sat there together, the banter fading into comfortable silence as I absently ran my fingers through her mane. The warmth of her presence, the weight of her against me — it was all so perfectly sublime. My mind drifted to the darkness that had gripped me since Aldin’s death, since losing my arm, my eye, and everything else that felt like it had been ripped away. Yet, somehow, Luna had managed to pull me out of that darkness, even if only for a little while.

Looking down into her eyes, I couldn’t help but marvel at how she did it. How her light seemed to slip so effortlessly through the cracks in my armor to reach the corners of my being that I’d thought had gone irreparably numb.

She was extraordinary. Her love was beautiful, fierce, and wholly mine. Nothing in this plane or any other could hope to rival such a divine gift. Although mythic power might now coil around my heart and soul, it was Luna’s love that laid the truest claim. In this singular moment, I fully understood the wisdom that the Lady of the Graves had parted with me.

Love bears all things.

Propitious

The room I had once called my own felt strangely hollow now, though nothing about it had truly changed.

The king-sized bed sat neatly against the far wall, its covers undisturbed for some time now. My workstation, with its countless scratches and ink stains, remained tucked into the corner near the balcony, a chair pushed neatly underneath. The small bookshelf next to it, filled with scrolls and books that had once played a vital role in my studies of the magical and mundane. Even the balcony door, slightly ajar to let in the crisp air, gave me the same view of the sprawling scenery that I had seen since I was first given this room.

And yet, as I carefully placed another stack of books into my Bag of Holding, the room felt foreign. Not in a way that was unpleasant, but rather as though it belonged to someone else entirely. Someone who didn’t exist anymore.

The Bag of Holding lay open on my old bed, its enchanted interior swallowing the items I placed inside with an almost greedy ease. Beside it, a haphazard array of belongings waited their turn: a set of vials filled with powdered reagents for enchanting, several neatly rolled scrolls glowing faintly with arcane runes, and an assortment of tools Luna had gifted me.

I crouched down to pick up a book that I had knocked to the floor earlier — a slim, blue book that looked familiar. I turned the book to read the spine. Basic Magic for Unicorn Foals. I paused for a moment when I recognized the title, before lifting it up and into my Bag of Holding. The action had felt awkward in my left hand, and I nearly missed the bag’s opening.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.

My balance was still off without my right arm and eye, and the absence was becoming increasingly apparent. The simplest of tasks felt nearly monumental now, and the stubborn part of me that refused to use magic wasn’t making it any easier. I wanted to be able to function without having to heavily rely on magic for what should’ve been light work.

A cold breeze slipped in from the balcony, brushing against my neck and carrying with it the faintest promise of snow. Early winter had settled over Canterlot, painting the city below in shades of gray and white. From my vantage point, I could see ponies milling about in heavy cloaks, their breath fogging in the chilly air as they hurried about their business before the sun dipped below the horizon, and brought about a deeper chill.

I straightened up and moved to my workstation, eyeing the collection of crafting materials strewn across its surface. Small piles of various gemstones, bits of enchanted metals, and tools designed for meticulous engraving were spread out in a disorganized mess I hadn’t yet found the time to pack. One by one, I gathered the items, placing them carefully into the bag. My hand brushed against a shard of starstone, and for a moment, I paused, turning it over in my fingers. The stone was a leftover from the Moon Clock’s construction — a clerical error resulted in there being more starstone than necessary. Its faint glow reminded me of Luna’s mane, and of the stars she wove so effortlessly into the night sky.

The thought made my chest tighten — not in pain, but in something softer. Warmer. Her chambers felt more like home than this room ever had, although that was probably an unfair comparison, seeing as this room lacked Luna. A small smile found its way onto my face. I shook my head free from the distraction. I still have plenty of things to pack, and moving all of this was proving to be an exercise in frustration.

I stepped back to the bed, where a small mountain of scrolls waited. Balancing one in the crook of my arm, I reached awkwardly for another, nearly dropping the whole stack as I tried to steady it all. Gritting my teeth, I managed to set them down in a relatively neat pile near the bag.

“This is going to take all night,” I muttered, shaking my head as I moved to the next pile.

Minutes dragged by as I worked, the process was far slower than I liked and far clumsier than I would have admitted to anyone, ever. Each item felt like a test of patience, and the growing ache in my shoulder only added to my irritation. The room, once filled with my presence, was slowly being stripped bare, and as I looked around, the walls felt emptier, the silence heavier.

I returned to the workstation for another load of materials, when I glanced at a stack of scrolls I hadn’t yet packed. One of them caught my eye. A scroll of Unseen Servant. A scroll I had scribed from the early days of apprenticeship. I reached for it, the temptation to summon the invisible helper almost overwhelming. It would take seconds, and I could finish this in half the time without fumbling around like an idiot.

I paused, the scroll held loosely in my hand. The idea of giving in felt like admitting defeat, and I hated the thought of relying on magic for something so mundane. But my patience was wearing thin. My gaze went to the pile of books and tools that still remained, and a sigh escaped me.

Then my eye crept over to the Bag of Holding, and my mind returned to that blue book. Another idea spawned in my mind. What if I treated this like practice for unicorn magic? I hadn’t touched unicorn magic since I had confronted Chrysalis and petrified her swarm. Unicorn magic had felt… different then. Easier almost. Less taxing than before my time in the Boneyard and Nowhere.

It couldn’t hurt to give it a try.

I placed the scroll of Unseen Servant back onto the pile, flexing my left hand and staring at the cluttered desk. The thought of trying unicorn magic again gnawed at me, half-daring, half-daunting. In the past I channeled magic using my right hand, and unicorn magic tended to be quite taxing. The last time I’d used it however, I had channeled it… somehow, and I had already reached exhaustion from the gauntlet that was that day.

It had felt far more natural and almost instinctual last time compared to the times before.

But now, there was no right hand to hold out. Just an empty space where my arm ended abruptly at the elbow. I let out a breath and decided to try anyway. If I could use amplification on the swarm without my right arm then I should be able to move a few books. I would just have to use my remaining hand instead of my favored hand.

I concentrated, trying to summon the familiar flow of magic. In my mind’s eye, I pictured the stack of books, willing them to lift from the table. Slowly, I raised my right arm — or rather, what was left of it — out of habit. The motion was strange, a phantom sensation where my hand used to be, but I focused past the discomfort.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, to my astonishment, the books lifted. A faint shimmer of hazel aura wrapped around them, the golden center flaring faintly like a flickering flame surrounded by a sickly green halo.

I froze, staring at the hovering books in disbelief. My gaze darted to my left hand, then to the missing right one. My fingers twitched as I expected to see my aura, but there was nothing there. No glow, no physical sign that I was channeling magic.

That’s not normal. That’s not normal at all.

Instead, I felt it in my head. Like a presence just behind my eye, an invisible thread pulled taut as my aura connected to the objects I was trying to manipulate. The sensation was alien, almost too smooth. It lacked any of the strain or exhaustion I experienced with unicorn magic.

My heart started to race. I released the magic, and the books settled back onto the desk with a soft thud. What the hell just happened? I looked down at my left hand again, turning it over, willing the aura to reappear. Still nothing. But the sensation ignited behind my eye again.

I stepped back, the panic rising in my chest. What had changed? Unicorn magic never felt like this before. My breathing quickened, my thoughts racing as I tried to make sense of it.

The memory of my battle with Chrysalis surfaced unbidden — the wounds, the green aura of her magic, the horrific moments before everything went dark. The Boneyard. Aldin. Pharasma. Nowhere. Meridin. Awakening from death with Promise still planted through me.

No. This wasn’t right. My usage of unicorn magic had always manifested through my hands. That was how it worked. How it was supposed to work.

I needed answers, and only one way came to mind to get them. My gaze slid to the bathroom door. I hadn’t looked at myself in a mirror since… since before the attempted invasion. I knew the scars were there. I could feel them every time I moved, every time my clothes brushed against the sealed flesh of wounds that had marked my death.

My legs carried me across the room before I could hesitate. I shoved the door open and stumbled inside. I gripped the sink’s edge, and braced myself.

I forced myself to look up, and into the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me was someone I barely recognized. I gripped the edge of the sink tighter, my remaining eye wide and searching, scanning the warped visage before me. My breath hitched as I took in the damage, what remained of the battles I had fought and lost.

A bitter laugh dragged itself from my throat. No. This… this is what victory looks like.

A jagged scar began at the edge of my chin, slicing upward in a ragged line that tore through the corner of my mouth, my right cheek, and brow, ending just above the cavern where my eye had been. The socket was sunken and sealed, the skin there smooth and unnatural. It was as if Meridin's magic had fused flesh over bone in a desperate attempt to patch me together, but somewhere along the way he had forgotten what a human face was supposed to look like.

My jaw tightened as I traced the line of the scar with my eye. The disfigurement twisted my face into a grimace even in repose, my lips pulled just enough to expose a hint of teeth on the right side.

Horrific.

I reached up slowly, brushing my fingertips over the scar. The skin was taut and cold, foreign to the touch. My reflection mirrored the motion, but it felt disconnected, like I was looking at a stranger trying to convince me they were me.

My gaze shifted down to the stump of my right arm, just below the elbow. The flesh there was smooth and seamless, as if melted closed by an artist with no care for beauty. I flexed what was left of it, phantom pain flickering through fingers that no longer existed. My mind screamed at me that it was all wrong, but I forced myself to keep looking.

I needed to see.

Next came my chest. I hesitated, then slowly unbuttoned my shirt, my fingers trembling as I exposed the flesh beneath. The scar over my heart was grotesque, radiating outward like a jagged starburst. This was where Promise had pierced me, the blade that was supposed to protect me turned into the very instrument of my death. The thought made my soul shudder.

I glanced at the sword at my hip, its pommel bearing Luna’s cutie mark. My love’s blade, always by my side. It felt heavier now, as if weighed down by the memories of death, failure, and victory.

I exhaled sharply, my breath momentarily fogging the mirror.

The reflection in the mirror scowled at me through the fog. Every inch of me screamed of my inability to protect myself, to protect Aldin, to protect those I cared about. I looked horrific. Broken. The kind of person who wouldn’t inspire hope or trust, but fear and pity.

My breath came fast, shallow, the edges of my vision narrowing. I shook my head, gripping the sink until my knuckles ached. My remaining eye burned, and I realized with a start that it was glowing again. Gold surrounded by sickly green lit up the mirror. So bright was my eye’s light that it made the rest of the room appear darker in comparison.

I squeezed my eye shut, willing the glow to fade, to stop. When I opened it again, it was gone. The man in the mirror stared back at me. He looked like he’d been pieced together from fragments of a half-forgotten nightmare. He was not the person I used to be. The cold ceramic of the sink steadying me as my thoughts tried to spiral.

This was what remained of me.

“Ascension,” I muttered, forcing my voice to stay even. “That’s all it is. Just a part of ascension.”

The Laurel of Vast Intelligence glinted faintly atop my head, the silver leaves catching the light of Celestia’s sun as it yielded to Luna’s night. The laurel’s presence felt almost mocking, a symbol of my craft and ingenuity perched on a head that barely felt like my own anymore.

Testing the waters, I reached towards the well of power that coiled around my heart, and gingerly grasped at a tiny amount of the power. My eye shone with the faintest glimmer of light — a spark of mythical power radiating softly from deep within its depths. I blinked and let the power slip back around my heart, the glow vanishing as quickly as it had come, but the memory of it lingered.

Gold surrounded by sickly green. Hazel. It was my aura. Just different — better — than what it was before. It had flared just before my books had moved earlier, a clear sign of the magic I’d used. But now, it wasn’t limited to my hand or even the stump where my right arm had been. It emanated from my very soul, reshaped by a power that I barely understood.

Undoubtedly a side-effect of Meridin passing on his mythical power. Another boon borne from ascension.

I closed my eye and leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the mirror. The cool glass steadied me for a moment, and I used said moment to calm my frantic heart.

Meridin hadn’t mentioned anything about this when we spoke of ascension. Perhaps he didn’t know this would happen, or maybe it was something that slipped his mind. He was a shattered man unwillingly trapped in a pseudo existence within a plane where time, existence, and everything in between was questionable at best. I could hardly blame him for not mentioning everything while his mind and soul was breaking apart.

I focused on the feeling that sprouted when I grasped the power that caused my eye to shine like some hazel beacon. It felt… good, great even. It felt nothing like when Meridin used his corrupted version of mythical power — no, this power that coursed within me felt like the start of something wonderful. Like finishing a good book and finding out that the author has already released a sequel.

I had panicked over nothing.

I sighed, and lightly tapped my forward against the mirror. This ascension stuff is great and all, and I do enjoy being alive, but I just wanted this all to go back to the way it was. When everything was okay. When all I had to stress out about was some stupid dance, drinking with my friends, and endless flirting with Luna in an empty throne room!

Back when I still had—

A sharp knock at the door startled me, the sound echoing through the silence of my old room. I jerked upright, my pulse quickening. My reflection stared back at me, but I tore my gaze away from it, focusing instead on the door.

Whoever it was, they’d chosen a poor time to come knocking.

The knock came again, softer this time but insistent enough to fully pull me out of my haze. I wiped a hand over my face, as if that would somehow erase the turmoil written all over it, and took a steadying breath as I buttoned up my shirt. Whoever was at the door probably wasn’t going to wait much longer.

Promise bumped gently against my hip as I crossed the room, its familiar weight a small comfort. I hesitated and ran my thumb over Promise’s pommel, taking solace in Luna’s mark before pulling open the door.

The last pony I expected to see on the other side was Celestia.

She wasn’t wearing her crown or solar peytral — just the golden shoes she rarely seemed without. It was an understated look for her, but the expression on her face was far from casual. Her magenta eyes held something I couldn’t immediately place.

“Sebastian,” she greeted, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

I blinked, momentarily at a loss. “Celestia?” Her name came out more like a question. “What… are you doing here?”

She gave me a small, almost sheepish smile. “My sister told me you might be here. May I come in?”

I stepped aside automatically, still reeling from the sight of her. Celestia rarely had time for unannounced visits. If she was here, it had to be about something important.

She entered with the kind of grace that only she could manage, her presence commanding the room without even trying. But something about her seemed off — less regal and more… subdued? She glanced around briefly before turning her attention back to me.

“Luna has spoken highly of your recovery,” she began, her tone careful. “But I wanted to see you for myself.”

Recovery.

That word felt like a cruel joke when I’d just been staring at what looked like some artist’s cruel rendition of a shambling corpse. I didn’t respond, unsure of what to say that didn’t sound either out of place or just plain mean.

Her gaze lingered on me, and for a moment, I wondered if she saw me the way I saw myself. Horrific. Broken. Less than a shadow of the person I used to be.

“I came to apologize,” she said finally, her voice heavier now. “For my failures before and during the invasion.”

I frowned, caught off guard. “Failures?”

Her expression hardened, though it wasn’t directed at me. “I failed to recognize that Chrysalis was posing as Cadance. I failed to listen to Twilight when she voiced her suspicions. And when the time came to fight, I failed to defeat Chrysalis.” She lowered her head slightly, a rare gesture of vulnerability. “If I had done as I should, none of this would have happened to you.”

I stared at her, stunned. Of all the things I’d expected, this wasn’t it. “Celestia, I…” I trailed off, unsure how to respond.

A bitterness that I’d buried deep inside threatened to surface. But it felt wrong — selfish almost — to take it out on her.

“You were put through horrors no one should ever endure,” she continued, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “And I bear responsibility for that. If I had seen through Chrysalis’ ruse, if I had acted differently, you wouldn’t have been… harmed.” Her gaze flicked briefly to the stump of my right arm before darting away. “You and Aldin wouldn’t have been killed.”

The weight of her words pressed down on me, stirring emotions I wasn’t ready to confront. Not with her. Anger, sadness, guilt — it was all there, tangled together in a knot that I couldn’t unravel.

“I won’t lie,” I said slowly, my voice rough. “It’s… been a lot to process. But blaming you won’t change what happened. Nothing can.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Perhaps not. But you need to know that your actions — the pain you endured — allowed us to prevail. Without you, Chrysalis might have won.”

I’d replayed that day in my mind countless times, fixating on what I’d lost, what I’d suffered. But I hadn’t allowed myself to think about what it had meant. What it had achieved.

Celestia stepped closer, her presence oddly comforting. “Your bravery, your sacrifice — it turned the tide. The day was won because of you.” Her gaze softened, filled with an almost maternal warmth. “And I will always be grateful for that.”

Her sincerity was undeniable, but it only made the turmoil inside me churn harder. How was I supposed to respond to that? What could I even say?

I looked down, my hand brushing against the hilt of Promise as if its presence alone could provide me with what to say. The weight of Celestia's words was suffocating, not because they were unwelcome, but because I couldn't bring myself to accept them. She spoke as though I were some kind of hero, but my reflection told me a different story.

"I don't—" My voice faltered, the words heavy on my tongue. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to meet her steady gaze. "I don't feel like I did anything worth thanking me for."

Celestia tilted her head, her expression shifting to something gentler. "Worth isn’t always something we recognize in ourselves, Sebastian. But it’s there."

I exhaled sharply, the sound bitter in my ears. "If I'd been stronger, faster, smarter... maybe we wouldn’t have died. Maybe I could have stopped Chrysalis before she ever got the chance to—" I bit down on the thought, the memory of that grotesque facsimile of Luna and our Promise searing through me like a fresh wound.

"You can’t face the memory of that day alone," Celestia said softly as she stepped closer. "And you don’t have to."

Her words, though well-meaning, struck a nerve. I tensed, my voice sharper than intended. "Easy for you to say," I muttered, unable to stop myself. "You weren’t the one who—"

The sentence hung unfinished, caught behind clenched teeth. I didn’t want to voice it, didn’t want to lash out — but the inescapable truth loomed. She hadn’t seen through Chrysalis’s hiding behind Cadance’s shape, even when Twilight spoke out against her. She hadn’t listened to her own apprentice. And because of that, Aldin and I—

"You’re right," Celestia admitted, each word laced with a quiet sort of remorse. "I wasn’t the one who suffered as you did. And I will live with that failure for as long as I breathe."

Her sincerity startled me. I lifted my gaze up to hers, searching her expression for any sign of deflection or pretense. There was none.

"I failed you," she continued. "I failed Luna. I failed Cadance and Shining Armor. I failed Twilight. I failed all of Equestria when I couldn’t see through Chrysalis’s deception. And for that, I am deeply sorry."

Her apology hit me harder than I expected. I wasn’t sure if it was because of her sincerity or because it mirrored the guilt I carried within myself. Either way, it left me feeling... exposed.

"You’re not the only one who feels like they could have done more," she said gently. "But blaming ourselves won’t undo the past. It won’t heal the wounds we’ve suffered, Sebastian. It will only deepen them."

I wanted to argue, to tell her that she didn’t understand. But the look in her eyes stopped me. There was pain there, yes, but also something else — a sort of strength born from centuries of carrying burdens far heavier than mine.

"You’ve done more for Luna than you realize," Celestia said after a moment, her tone shifting. "You were the only one who could calm her after..." She trailed off, her gaze softening further.

My brows furrowed. "How do you know about that?"

She smiled faintly. "Luna and I share everything, Sebastian. I know how close she came to losing herself to her anger. And I know it was you who brought her back from that anger."

Heat crept up my neck. "She told you that?"

Celestia’s smile widened, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "She tells me a great many things about you."

I groaned inwardly, already dreading what else Luna might have shared. "I’m not sure I want to know."

Her soft chuckle filled the room. "Don’t worry. I’ll spare you the details — this time."

I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure of how to respond. Part of me was mortified, but another part, one I didn’t want to examine too closely, was... proud. Far too proud for my own good.

"Thank you," Celestia said suddenly, her tone serious once more. "For keeping her here. For convincing her not to go after Chrysalis. I don’t know if I would have been able to stop her myself.”

I shook my head. "It wasn’t easy. She was furious. And honestly? I couldn’t blame her."

"Nor could I," Celestia admitted. "But you made her see reason. I doubt that anyone else in your position could have calmed her down. That’s no small thing, Sebastian. It goes to show the bond you two share."

Her words struck a chord deep within me. I glanced down at Promise, the sword suddenly felt heavier. "I just didn’t want to lose her," I said quietly.

"And you didn’t," Celestia replied. "Because of you, she stayed. And because of that, we have a chance to rebuild what was nearly lost."

I looked up at her, meeting her gaze once more. "It doesn’t feel like enough."

"It rarely does," she said softly. "But that doesn’t diminish its importance."

Her words hung in the air, and I felt something other than anger or guilt or bitterness. It wasn’t quite peace, but it was somewhat close to peace.

"You’ve been through so much," Celestia continued, her voice warm and steady. "But your pain wasn’t in vain. It led us to this moment, to a future where Equestria continues to exist."

I didn’t respond right away, letting her words settle over me. She was right — even if I couldn’t bring myself to believe it fully just yet.

Celestia stepped back, her gaze never leaving mine. "You gave us that day, Sebastian. And for that, you will always have my gratitude."

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing against my chest. "I’ll... try to remember that," I said finally.

Her smile returned, soft and genuine. "That’s all I ask."

Hate

The cold of the dungeon seeped into my bones, sharper than the early winter air outside. A Light cantrip I had placed earlier served as the sole source of illumination that shone the unmoving forms of Chrysalis' petrified swarm. Hundreds of them, frozen in their last moments of battle, were tucked away down here in the depths of the castle’s dungeon. Their blank stone eyes seemed to follow me as I moved, but I forced myself to ignore them. They were as lifeless as the rock that encased them.

For now.

I stood before the platform I had just finished shaping — a crude square of stone, twenty feet by twenty feet, rising a few feet from the floor at the center of the dungeon. It wasn’t elegant, and it didn’t need to be. The edges were rough, the surface uneven in places, but it was solid and functional. That was more than enough. With the Stone Shape spell spent, I stepped back, brushing dust from my shirt with my left hand, the action was awkward and slow. The stump of my right arm throbbed in phantom protest, as though it wished to join my remaining hand in the action.

I ignored it. There was simply too much to do, and I had spent far too much time wallowing in my own self-pity these past few weeks.

Taking a deep breath, I knelt by the platform, placing my hand flat against its surface. The stone was cold and unyielding, but I could feel my magic beginning to stir as I focused. Break Enchantment. A spell of liberation and restoration, one I’d fortunately not had to use as of yet. But this was different. This wasn’t about freeing innocents. These were changelings — insects I could barely look at without a wave of nausea and anger rising within me in equal measure.

One step closer to solidifying the Geas against that damnable queen. I repeated the thought in my head like a mantra. This wasn’t for the changelings or their queen. It was for the Geas. For Luna. For Equestria.

I weaved the fundamentals of the spell into the platform in steady pulses of the arcane. The stone began to hum faintly, and glowing lines of magic traced across its surface like veins of jade. Each line shimmered and flickered, the spell’s energy binding itself to the platform was a painstaking process. I worked carefully, weaving the basis of abjuration into the stone itself, imbuing it with the mythic power necessary to ensure it could break their petrification without fail. The user would require mythical power to use the platform at all. This would limit the users to myself. That was by design.

I would be remiss if someone were to use the platform to try to free Discord from his petrification. Albeit whether or not the Platform of Disenchantment would work on someone petrified by the Elements of Harmony is dubious at best. Nevertheless, it would be better for all that I ensure that the platform’s accessibility be limited. At least while we lacked any sort of viable weapon against the spirit of chaos.

I pressed my hand harder against the stone, channeling more power into it. A swell of power surged from the well of mythical power that encircled my heart, and coalesced behind my eye. The platform glowed brighter, the intricate spellwork etching itself into its surface like a living map. Sweat dampened my brow as I worked. Each stroke of arcane magic was empowered with the mythical to carve channels through the stone, guiding the spell’s energy where it needed to flow.

The process was precise and delicate in nature — one mistake, and I’d have to start the whole process over. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I didn’t want to be down here surrounded by these… things longer than I needed to.

I closed my eye and focused my attention on my spellcraft. The platform’s glow intensified, filling the dim dungeon with a pale green light that I could see even through my closed eyelid. I clenched my jaw and steadied myself as I poured the last threads of arcane energies into the platform. The light steadied, the hum deepened, and then—

It was done.

The platform thrummed faintly with residual power, the Break Enchantment spell now woven into its very structure. The glow dimmed but didn’t vanish entirely, leaving the faintest trace of green light pulsating from the rough stone.

It was ready.

My breath left me in a ragged sigh, the weight of the now completed task pressing harder than the oppressive stone walls of the dungeon that surrounded me. The dungeon seemed to grow heavier with every heartbeat, its air thick with unspoken hostility. Around me stood hundreds of petrified changelings, their silent, frozen forms casting jagged shadows in the dim light. They were statues of aggression, each locked in a moment of violence, none stood out more than the one closest to the platform — a figure frozen in a cowering position, head bowed, ready to flee.

I hated them. Every single one of them.

I told myself I shouldn’t. I knew so little about changelings — nothing of their culture, their history, their ideals, their struggles. But what I did know was etched into my body and soul in equal measure. They invaded my home with violence in their hearts, seeking to overthrow Luna and Celestia. One, disguised as Luna, led me to an ambush that left me with half my sight stolen and left the right side of my face scarred. Their wretched queen murdered my best-buddy, severed my right arm, and drove the blade that symbolizes my love straight through my heart in a killing stroke.

How could I not hate?

My fingers tightened into a fist, the edges of memory biting sharply as I reminded myself of the Geas. This wasn’t about vengeance. This wasn’t for them. This was for her. For Luna. For us. For our future.

I unclenched my fist, and let out a calming breath.

The sound of hoofsteps broke the silence, faint at first, then louder as they echoed through the dungeon’s stone corridors. Two sets, armored, steady, deliberate. One set was far louder than the other.

As the hoofsteps drew closer, I straightened, my left hand instinctively wrapped around the hilt of Promise at my side. Luna’s mark shone dull in the dim light, a quiet reassurance against all that surrounded me.

The first figure to emerge from the corridor's gloom was Noctra, her amber eyes gleaming faintly in the lowlight. Her storm-grey coat blended with the dungeon's shadows, but her silver-edged armor caught the light with each step. Her gaze swept over the room, sharp and assessing, sweeping quickly over the stone changelings before lingering briefly on the platform and finally locking onto me.

"Sebastian," she said, her voice clipped but not unkind. "We thought you'd be here."

The second set of hoofsteps belonged to Shining Armor. His broader frame and more imposing presence were unmistakable, even as the soft glow of his magic illuminated the space around him. His usual confidence seemed muted, though; his movements were measured and deliberate, as though he were holding himself together through sheer force of will. His eyes were shadowed by exhaustion as he looked over the petrified changelings that lined the walls before settling on me.

“Seb,” he greeted, his tone carrying a weight that wasn’t there the last time we’d spoken. “How’s the project coming along?”

I gestured toward the platform, its rough-hewn surface still glowing faintly with the residuals of my magic. “Good,” I said, my voice low. “It should be able to work now.”

Noctra’s gaze shifted between us, her sharp eyes catching the tension that hung in the air. “Good,” she said curtly, stepping closer to inspect the platform. “The last thing we need is something going wrong down here. Not with... them.” She nodded toward the rows of petrified changelings, her expression hardening.

Shining followed her gaze, his jaw tightening. He let out a slow breath, the weight of his memories pressing down on him as surely as they did on me. His eyes lingered on the one closest to the platform.

“They don’t look so dangerous now,” he muttered, his voice low, almost to himself.

I scoffed, the sound harsher than I intended. “They didn’t look dangerous then, either. Not when they were wearing her face.”

The words hung between us, the weight of shared pain and betrayal filling the silence. Shining’s gaze snapped to mine, and for a moment we simply looked at each other, two individuals bound by the scars of Chrysalis’s cruelty.

“She... she didn’t just feed off me,” Shining said finally, his voice unsteady but determined. “She twisted everything. Every memory of Cadance, every moment we shared. She made me doubt all of it, made me wonder if any of it was real. And when I was too drained to fight back—” He stopped, his throat working as he fought to keep his composure. “She took everything.”

I nodded, the familiar ache clawing at my chest. “I know,” I said softly. “She didn’t just take my love for Luna; she mocked it. Used it against me. And when she was done, she made sure I could never forget. But then again… she didn’t plan on me living.”

I could feel his eyes on the scars that marred my face, then down to the empty space where my right arm used to be. His expression tightened, guilt flashing across his features. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For all of it.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Shining,” I replied, my voice firmer than I felt. “You didn’t do anything to me. If anything, I should be thanking you. You survived. I don’t think I could've stomached losing another friend.”

Noctra cleared her throat, her sharp gaze cutting through the heaviness between us. “And we’ll make sure she never has the chance to do it again,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “That’s why we’re here. To make sure everything goes as planned.”

Shining nodded, his expression hardening. “She doesn’t get to win,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Not after everything she’s done.”

He fell silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. Then, almost hesitantly, he looked up at me, his expression shifting to something uncertain. “Seb... I’ve been thinking about something. About Cadance.”

I arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“She wants to move forward. To get past what happened. And... I do too. But a part of me wonders if I’m ready. If I can still be the stallion she deserves.”

“You love her,” I said simply. “That’s enough.”

Shining’s lips quirked into a faint smile, the first genuine one I’d seen from him since he walked in. “She said the exact same thing. That’s why... that’s why we’re going to try again. To plan the wedding. For real this time.”

My heart twisted, both with happiness for him and the bitter memory of what Chrysalis had stolen from us both. “Good,” I said, forcing a smile of my own. “Don’t let her take that from you.”

Shining hesitated, his gaze searching mine. “Will you be there?” he asked. “I... I want you to be my best man again.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. My left hand instinctively moved to my scars, tracing the vertical line across my cheek. “I don’t—” I started, my voice faltering.

Shining stepped closer, his expression earnest. “Please, Seb,” he said. “I need you there. Cadance does, too. We wouldn’t be here without you. No one would.”

I looked at Shining, his blue eyes pleading, and felt the sincerity of his words wash over me. They wouldn’t be here without me. Celestia had told me something similar not too long ago. I knew what Shining and Celestia said to be true, but even then a bitter thought curled at the back of my mind. A thought that whispered of the scars carved by my failures and Chrysalis’s cruelty. I turned my gaze away, focusing on the cold, uneven stone of the platform.

“Shining,” I said quietly, “look at me. I’m not what I was.” My hand lingered on the line of my cheek, then moved to the empty space where my right arm used to be. “Your wedding is supposed to be a celebration.”

“It is a celebration,” Shining said, his voice firm. “And you’re a part of what we’re celebrating. What you did — what you sacrificed — that’s not some reminder of something ugly, Seb. It’s proof of what you mean to all of us.”

I closed my eye, breathing out a slow sigh. His words were sincere, but I couldn’t stop the knot in my chest from tightening.

“Sebastian,” Noctra’s voice broke in, low and serious. “This isn’t about how you see yourself. It’s about what you’ve done. You may not think you belong there, but trust me, you do. It’s an honor, and one you’ve more than earned a hundred times over.”

I looked between them — Shining’s determined expression, Noctra’s unflinching certainty — and felt the faintest hint of warmth behind my ribcage. These two... they weren’t going to let me refuse.

Shining stepped closer again, resting a hoof on my shoulder. “Besides, it wouldn’t feel right if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend, Seb. You have to be my best man. I don’t care if you think you’re not good enough — I know you are.”

Best friend.

It had been a long time since anyone had said that to me, and never with so much conviction. I hesitated, swallowing against the lump forming in my throat. Finally, I nodded, though it was a small, reluctant thing. “Fine,” I said softly. “But don’t expect a toast or a speech. I don’t do speeches.”

Shining grinned, and for a moment, it was easy to forget about where we were, and what we were surrounded by. “Deal.”

Noctra, however, wasn’t smiling. Her sharp amber eyes were fixed on me, as if she were trying to solve a puzzle. “Speaking of responsibility,” she said, her voice cutting through the moment, “there’s another matter to address.”

I frowned, wary of where this was going. “What matter?”

“You and the Lady of the Moon,” she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

My brow furrowed. “What about me and Luna?”

Noctra tilted her head, her eyes narrowing just enough to make me feel guilty of a crime that I had no knowledge of. “Don’t play coy, Sebastian. You’re her consort. The two of you have been bonded for months now, and yet... I hear no talk of proper dates, no stories of candlelit dinners, no romantic outings. Why is that?”

Heat flushed my face, and I glanced at Shining, who looked just as surprised as I felt. “That’s not really any of your business,” I managed to eke out.

Noctra snorted. “Nonsense. It’s very much my business. As Captain of the Lunar Guard, it’s my duty to ensure that Her Highness’s consort is fulfilling his role properly — both in and out of the battlefield.”

“That’s not—” I started, but Shining cut me off.

“Wait, are you serious?” Shining asked, looking at me in disbelief. “You and Luna haven’t had a proper date yet? Not even once?”

I misjudged his confusion. He was on her side.

“I’ve been busy,” I said defensively, though the excuse felt weak against their combined assault. “She’s been busy. Between her duties and mine, there hasn’t been much time.”

“No time for a single date? Not even before the attempted invasion?” Noctra asked, her tone incredulous. “Sebastian, do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? You’re her consort. Dates aren’t just something you should do — they’re practically mandatory. No, they are mandatory.”

I groaned, running my hand through my hair. “Look, it’s not that simple. Luna and I... we’ve had moments. Quiet ones. But we haven’t... I don’t know. Formalized it.”

“‘Formalized it,’” Shining echoed, shaking his head. “Seb, come on. You’re practically living a fairy tale here. You can’t just skip the best parts.”

“Not to mention,” Noctra added, her tone laced with disapproval, “you’re setting a terrible example for the rest of us. If the Princess and her consort can’t make time for romance, what hope do the rest of us have?”

“I didn’t realize my love life — or lack thereof — was up for public discussion,” I muttered.

“It is now,” Shining said, grinning despite himself. “And you’re not getting out of this one. Noctra and I will make sure you and Luna get that date. A real one. None of this ‘quiet moments’ nonsense.”

I sighed, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “You two are relentless, you know that?”

Shining’s grin widened. “That’s why you love us,” he said before straightening and adjusting his armor. “Speaking of, I’d better let Luna know what’s going on. She’ll want to send backup for the platform test, and... well, you know how she is when it comes to you.” He gave me a knowing look that I tried not to flinch under.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, waving him off. “Go get some sleep after you’re done. You look like you’re one missed coffee away from passing out.”

Shining laughed, already heading toward the door. “Don’t worry about me, Seb. Worry about what Noctra’s about to unload on you.”

I frowned, turning to Noctra, who stood watching Shining leave with a faint smirk. The moment Shining was out of sight, she turned those sharp eyes of hers onto me. The way she looked at me made my scars itch.

“Right,” she said, her tone all business. “Now that we’re alone, let’s talk strategy.”

“Strategy?” I echoed, crossing my arms. “For what?”

“For courting Princess Luna properly,” Noctra said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t allow this... disgraceful lack of proper romance to continue.”

“Disgraceful?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve been busy, Noctra. You of all ponies should understand that.”

“Duty is no excuse,” she replied, her tone sharp. “Romance is as much a part of your role as sparring or magic. The Princess deserves more than stolen moments, Sebastian.”

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Fine. What do you suggest, Captain?”

Noctra’s smirk returned. “I’m glad you asked. There’s a new restaurant in the lower district run by thestrals. Their specialty is traditional fare — dishes that Princess Luna would have enjoyed a thousand years ago. Authentic, nostalgic, and perfect for a quiet, private evening.”

“That... actually doesn’t sound terrible,” I admitted. “But Luna doesn’t like public attention. If word got out—”

“It won’t,” Noctra interrupted. The owners are old friends of mine. I can secure you a private room, no interruptions, no distractions. Just you and the Princess.”

I blinked at her, caught off guard by the sheer practicality of the suggestion. “You’re serious about this.”

“Of course I am,” she said, her expression softening slightly. “Luna deserves happiness, and you... you’ve made her happy. But that doesn’t mean you get to slack off.”

“I wasn’t slacking,” I muttered, though under Noctra’s scrutiny my words felt weak. “Alright, fine. I’ll take her there. Anything else I should know?”

“Plenty,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “First, remember that courting is as much about atmosphere as it is about action. That means no distractions. No interruptions. If somepony tries to bother you during this dinner, you have every right to throw them out. Politely, of course.”

“Of course,” I said dryly.

“Second,” she continued, “brush up on your thestral customs. You’re courting a Princess, but you’re also courting a thestral at heart. Small gestures go a long way — like serving her first or letting her choose the dishes.”

I tilted my head, intrigued despite myself. “Anything else?”

“Finally,” she said, stepping closer and fixing me with a piercing look, “don’t hold back. If you feel something, say it. If you want to show her affection, do it. This isn’t Night Court. It’s not a sparring match. It’s just the two of you. Be yourself, Sebastian. That’s all she wants.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’ve really thought this through.”

“Someone has to,” she said, her tone light but her gaze serious. “Luna deserves the best, and if you’re going to remain as her consort, you’d better step up.”

Before I could respond, the sound of hooves echoed down the hall. Noctra straightened, her sharp eyes snapping toward the noise. A moment later, Luna entered the edge of the light, flanked by two Lunar Guards. Her mane flowed like the night sky, her presence as commanding as ever.

“Sebastian,” she said, her gaze softening as it met mine. “Shining Armor tells me you are ready to begin.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of warmth at the sight of her. “Yeah. Everything’s set up.”

“Good,” she said, stepping closer. “Then let us begin.”

The cold of the dungeon clung to me as I approached the platform. Luna’s presence beside me was a comfort against the oppressive stillness of the petrified changelings surrounding us. Her silver-shod hooves made soft clicks on the stone floor, a steady rhythm that contrasted with the quiet tension in the room. The two Lunar Guards flanking her stood alert, their leathery wings folded tightly against their sides.

Luna’s gaze swept over the dungeon, lingering on the statues for a moment before her voice came in low and icy. “A fitting prison.”

I swallowed hard, my remaining hand clenched at my side. “Gorgon petrification seemed like the most viable option at the time,” I replied. “Turned her weapons into bargaining chips.”

She nodded, her expression hardening. “And now, we solidify the Geas.”

I turned my attention to the platform, its rough surface illuminated by the faint light of my Light cantrip. The petrified swarm surrounded it like silent spectators, each statue frozen mid-motion. My gaze fell on the one closest to the platform: a changeling crouched low, its head bowed, forelegs raised in a gesture that almost resembled fear.

“Start with that one,” I said, nodding toward the cowering figure. It seemed... less threatening. Almost afraid. But I quickly buried that thought. They were all the same. They were Chrysalis’ swarm. None shone fear during the invasion.

Besides, the Geas required that I release Chrysalis’ swarm from petrification. The Geas did not require me to make sure they reached their queen in one piece.

The Lunar Guards moved quickly, their discipline proven in the measure of their movements. They flanked the statue and lifted it carefully, their combined strength more than enough to carry its weight. The sound of stone scraping against stone echoed harshly in the dungeon as they placed the changeling onto the platform.

I stepped forward, my breathing steady, though my heart pounded in my chest. Luna’s presence at my side was reassuring, and I was relieved that she decided to be here in person to support me in this.

I placed my left hand on the platform’s surface, feeling the cool stone beneath my fingers. My aura flared to life, a hazel glow that reflected in the dull surfaces of the statues around us. Mythical power surged through me as I connected to the platform, and my left eye burned with the now familiar sensation that came with it. It was a searing, wonderful ache, an almost intoxicating reminder of the new tier of strength I wielded.

The runes etched into the platform began to shimmer with a green light, the lines of magic coming to life as my energy flowed through them. The light grew brighter, bathing the room in a hazel glow that danced across the petrified swarm. I channeled the spell, the power coursing through me like liquid fire, until the runes pulsed with a steady rhythm.

The changeling statue on the platform began to crack. Small fissures spider-webbed across its surface, the sound sharp and brittle in the heavy silence. I held my breath as the cracks deepened, fragments of stone falling away to reveal the black, chitinous shell beneath.

With a final burst of energy, the spell completed. The last of the stone crumbled, falling to the platform in a pile of dust.

The changeling stood there, no longer petrified, its head still bowed, trembling slightly as if it hadn’t yet realized it was free.

The changeling's trembling filled the silence, a faint rattling noise as its chitin repeatedly bounced against the rough stone of the platform. Its head remained low, forelegs pressed close to its body. For a moment, I stood frozen, my heart pounding as I watched for the inevitable lunge or shapeshifting trick. My grip on the hilt of Promise tightened. When it made its move I would be ready.

But nothing happened.

The changeling didn’t lunge or hiss. It didn’t even look up to observe its surroundings. It just… stayed there, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. In its current position it was completely exposed. It wouldn’t be able to react should I make a move now.

This was how it was when the gorgons turned it to stone?

I exchanged a quick glance with Luna, who stood impassive, her icy stare fixed on the creature. Noctra and the pair of Lunar Guards were still as statues themselves, their posture coiled and ready for action.

Yet not a soul moved.

What game is this? My mind raced, searching for the deception that had to be lurking beneath the changeling’s apparent fear. It couldn’t be this simple. These creatures were cunning, ruthless. Chrysalis’ brood didn’t cower — they wore the face of your loved ones and took everything they could.

I took a tentative step forward, my boots crunching softly against the platform as I stepped onto it. The changeling flinched at the sound, its entire body jolting as if I had struck it already. Its head found enough space to dip even lower.

“Stand up,” I commanded, my voice firm, trying to provoke some reaction that made sense. The changeling shrank even further into itself, its trembling intensifying.

Not an act. Or if it is, it is a damn good one.

I felt a prickle of unease. Killing it, if it came to that, wouldn’t be a challenge. I’d killed more than a single one of its kind during the invasion, each one of those seemed far more threatening than this cowering one. But this… this wasn’t what I expected.

“Look at me,” I tried again, softer this time. Nothing. The changeling remained rooted to the platform, as if petrified anew, but this time by fear in place of stone.

Luna’s voice cut through the tension, low and doubtful. “It shows no aggression. Perhaps this one is… different.”

I didn’t reply. My focus stayed on the creature. Slowly, I let my grip on Promise slacken. I extended my left hand to the air, open-palmed, a gesture I wasn’t sure it would even understand.

“You’re free now,” I said, keeping my tone calm, neutral. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

The changeling’s wings buzzed faintly, a sound almost like a shudder. It shifted slightly, just enough to peek up at me from its bowed position. The changeling was so close to the platform that its eyes reflected the green glow that faintly radiated from the enchanted stone.

“That’s it,” I coaxed, trying to keep my own voice steady. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Its gaze flicked to the sword at my side and back to my face, its trembling subsiding by a fraction. The changeling seemed to shrink even further into itself, chittering softly, a sound that could have been fear or something else entirely.

I crouched slowly, keeping my movements slow and deliberate, as to not scare the cowering changeling further. “I’m not your enemy,” I said, even as a part of me balked at the words. “You don’t have to hide.”

The changeling hesitated, its body language shifting subtly. Its head tilted slightly, its gaze locking onto mine for a long, silent moment. Then, inch by inch, it straightened just enough to meet my eyes fully, though its posture remained wary and low.

“There,” I said, quietly. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

The changeling’s trembling lessened as it lifted its head fully, revealing the details of its face. Its blue, pupil-less eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light, scanning me warily. A jagged horn sat crooked atop its head, framed by the webbed remnants of what I assumed was the changeling equivalent to a mane. Its legs bore the same unsettling holes I had seen on every other changeling before.

Even standing up, and not cowering, It didn’t look threatening. If anything, it seemed... lost. The sight tugged at something I didn’t expect — pity. I shoved the feeling aside, unwilling to let my guard drop completely around one of these things.

The changeling blinked slowly, then opened its mouth as if to speak. What came out was a soft, hesitant chittering, almost like a question. It closed its mouth again quickly, glancing around as if only now taking in its surroundings. Its wings buzzed faintly, and its posture sank once more, but it didn’t cower entirely this time.

“Can you talk?” I asked, making an effort to keep my tone neutral.

The changeling nodded quickly, then hesitated before speaking, its voice was high-pitched and strained, but definitely male. “Y-yes. I... I can talk.” his gaze roamed around the dungeon again, lingering on the petrified changelings before returning to me. “W-where am I? What... what happened?”

I straightened slightly, letting my hand rest on Promise’s pommel. “You’re in Canterlot. The castle dungeons to be exact. You were petrified during the battle. I just freed you.”

His eyes widened at that, and it took a half-step back. “Freed me?” he repeated, almost as though he didn't believe my words.

“Yes.” I studied him closely, looking for any hint of deceit. “What is your name?”

The changeling hesitated, his wings buzzing faintly again. “Thorax,” he said finally, almost too soft to hear. “My name is Thorax.”

I hadn’t expected a name. Most changelings I’d encountered before hadn’t bothered with anything beyond snarls or taunts before I had to kill them. A part of me wished it had stayed that way. “Thorax,” I repeated, watching as his ears twitched at the sound. “I’m Sebastian Hilam.”

Thorax nodded nervously, his gaze darting to Luna and the guards, who remained silent but vigilant. His trembling started again. “Are... are you going to hurt me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I sighed, some of my tension easing. If this was an act, it was an elaborate one, and a rather convincing one too. “No. Like I said, I’m not your enemy.” I glanced at the statues around us. “I’m here to free the rest of you.”

Thorax’s ears perked slightly, and he blinked at me in confusion. “Free... us?” His voice wavered, filled with disbelief. “Why? You’re not one of us. You don’t owe us anything.”

My jaw tightened, and I glanced briefly at Luna, who gave me a slight nod. “Your queen made a deal,” I said, my voice firm. “She’s under a Geas now, bound to obey. My part of the deal is freeing her swarm. All of you.”

Thorax froze, his breathing quickening. “The queen... submitted?” he asked, the words almost like a gasp. He shook his head, his wings flaring slightly. “I... I didn’t think she’d ever...”

“She lost,” I interrupted, my voice hardening. “I didn’t leave her with much of a choice.”

Thorax flinched but didn’t argue. He lowered his head, his trembling returning in full force. Just then, an idea struck me, and I looked at the changeling in a new light. The faster I break the petrification from the swarm, the faster they can get out of my city. If Thorax could help me with the process then I suppose I could tolerate his presence for a little while longer. Besides, he was the first changeling I’ve talked to that didn’t involve trying to murder me.

“Thorax,” I said, trying to pull his focus back. “Can you help me?”

His head snapped up, his expression shifting to one of startled confusion. “Help you?”

“Yes.” I gestured toward the other statues. “When they’re freed, they’re going to wake up thinking they’re still in the middle of a fight. I need someone who can help calm them down.”

Thorax blinked at me, his mouth opening and closing a few times as if searching for words. Finally, he gave a hesitant nod. “I... I’ll try.” He glanced nervously at the nearest statues. “But they might not listen to me. I’m... not exactly important.”

“Try anyway,” I said, straightening. “It’s better than the alternative.”

Thorax nodded again, his wings buzzing faintly as he took a tentative step closer to me. “O-okay. I’ll try.”

What came next was as tense as it was methodical. Luna's commanding presence ensured a sense of order, while Noctra and her Lunar Guards maintained a perimeter, and herded the freshly freed changelings. Thorax, for his part, was a bundle of nerves but ultimately proved invaluable. Though he stammered and fidgeted, he never once faltered in his attempts to calm his fellow changelings.

I took my place at the Platform of Disenchantment, the stone dais humming faintly as I worked the spell to break the petrification. The first few changelings we freed reacted exactly as I anticipated — bursting into frantic motion, hissing and flaring their wings, their minds still locked in the chaos of battle. Thorax, to my surprise, stepped forward each time, inserting himself between us and his newly awakened brethren.

“It’s okay!” he would insist, his voice trembling but loud enough to reach them. “The fight’s over! You’re safe! Please, just listen!”

Most changelings hesitated, their gazes surging between Thorax and the unfamiliar surroundings. Thorax’s presence seemed to put them at ease — his earnestness, his familiarity. Some calmed quickly, others took longer and required some convincing, but none made an outright attempt to attack.

Thorax’s demeanor shifted as the night wore on. Though he remained nervous, there was a visible determination in his actions, a need to prove himself. I watched as he reassured a particularly aggressive changeling, his voice breaking but his words steady. “We’re alive. That’s what matters. Just... trust me.”

By the time we called a halt, nearly three dozen changelings had been freed. They huddled together, their movements skittish and uncertain but no longer hostile. Luna addressed them briefly as Noctra left to retrieve more guards, her voice calm but commanding as she outlined the conditions of their release. The changelings listened, albeit grudgingly, their loyalty to Chrysalis evident in the defiant looks they cast her way.

More Lunar Guards arrived alongside Noctra. They quickly herded the changelings together and escorted them out of the dungeons. All were taken, except for one, Thorax.

Thorax, meanwhile, stood before me and seemed rather torn. I caught him glancing in the direction of his leaving brethren with longing, then toward me with uncertainty.

“You’re staying here,” I informed him.

Thorax blinked, his ears flattening as he shot worried looks toward the army of stone changelings. “Here?”

“In the castle,” Luna clarified. “You will assist Sebastian and I in the nights to come. Your cooperation will ensure this process remains... manageable. Once the last of the swarm is freed, you will leave with them. But if you wish to leave now, you may.”

Thorax took a moment to mull over his options before replying. “No. I’ll stay and do my best to help.”

Luna nodded approvingly, and Noctra alongside the pair of Lunar Guards stepped forward to escort Thorax to whatever room he would be staying in. As he followed her, he glanced back at me, his expression unreadable. But if I had to bet on it, I would say it was a happy one.

I exhaled slowly, glancing at Luna. “This is going to take a while.”

Her gaze softened as she stepped closer. “You’ve managed well tonight,” she said. “We will manage tomorrow and the nights after.”

As Thorax fully disappeared down the shadowed corridor, escorted by the guards, the oppressive silence of the dungeon returned. The weight of what lay around us — hundreds of petrified changelings, each frozen in a state of aggression or panic — pressed heavily on my chest. The sight of their twisted forms, the jagged holes in their limbs, and the sinister curve of their fangs made my stomach churn.

Luna moved closer, her ethereal mane brushing against my shoulder. Her warmth, usually comforting, now felt like a sharp contrast to the cold anger still simmering within me. I glanced at her, searching for words, but found none. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard against the lump forming there.

“This place reeks of them,” I muttered, my voice low and bitter.

Luna’s gaze followed mine, her expression somber but controlled. “Indeed. The stench of their treachery lingers still.” Her voice was calm, but I could hear the edge beneath it, the barely contained fury that mirrored my own.

I turned away, unable to look at the changelings any longer. “I hate them, Luna,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “All of them. Even that one — Thorax. I don’t care if he’s ‘different’. They’ve taken so much from me. From us.”

She was silent for a moment before speaking. “Your hatred is not unwarranted, my love. They have wounded us both in ways that time alone cannot heal.” Her hoof reached out, resting lightly on my stump where my right arm used to be. “But hatred, unchecked, can consume even the strongest of hearts.”

I flinched at her touch, though not because of her. The memories of that day surged forward, unbidden. The false-Luna’s predatory smile, the searing pain as half the world’s light was snuffed out, and the lifeless changeling corpse left in her place — a cruel mockery of the one I loved. I squeezed my remaining hand into a fist, the tension radiating up my arm.

“I wanted this,” I confessed bitterly. “I wanted a reason to lash out. To tear them apart, one by one. I wanted to see them suffer for what they did.”

Luna stepped in front of me, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her eyes, though filled with pain, held a strength that steadied me. “And so did I,” she whispered. “When you spoke of what Chrysalis did to you, I wanted nothing more than to rend her limb from limb. To make her beg for mercy she would never receive.”

Her words should have been comforting, a shared bond in our pain and rage. But instead, they unsettled me. “And yet we didn’t,” I said, the anger in my voice laced with confusion. “Why didn’t we, Luna? Why did I stop you? Why are we here, standing among these statues, instead of out there making them pay?”

She sighed, her wings drooping slightly as she looked away. “Because you reminded me of what we stand to lose if we give in to that desire. What I reminded you in turn. This path… it is not one of forgiveness, but of restraint.”

The dungeon grew quieter then. Somewhere, deeper in the depths of the dungeon, was the nearly inaudible sound of dripping water. I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted. “Pretend that any of them are worth trusting. Pretend that I can move past this.”

“You are not alone in this,” Luna said softly, her wing curling around me. “And you need not pretend. Hatred is a fire, Sebastian, but even fire can be harnessed. Let it forge you into something stronger, rather than reduce you to ash.”

I turned to her, searching her face. “And you?” I asked. “Can you move past this?”

Her expression was unreadable for a moment, but then she smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I do not know,” she admitted. “But I do know that vengeance would not soothe the ache in my heart. Not truly.”

I leaned into her embrace, the tension in my body slowly ebbing away as I placed my remaining hand on her scarred chest to feel the beat of her heart — it never failed to calm me. The cold stone of the dungeon walls felt a world away when she was this close. “It feels like we’re just waiting for the next attack,” I murmured. “The next betrayal.”

In response, Luna lifted a hoof and rested it lightly against my chest, over the place where Chrysalis had driven Promise. “Perhaps,” she said. “But we are stronger now than we were before. Stronger, and far more aware.”

I nodded, but my hatred wasn’t gone, not even close. But for now, in moments like this one, I could set it aside. For her. For us.

The darkness pressed in, alive with the whispers of lurking beasts, yet I was unshaken. Luna stood beside me, her presence chasing away the oppression of the shadows. Her hoof settled over my heart, steady and sure, while my hand covered hers as if to seal a silent vow. In that moment, the world’s cruelty lost its grip — no wrath, no despair, no sting of the past could touch me.

As a boy, I was once warned that love blinds.

But perhaps, it is a gift to see only what truly matters.

Distraction

The intricate patterns of the tall stained-glass windows remained unbroken, though soot still clung stubbornly to the upper arches. Rays of the setting sun painted kaleidoscope colors over the elaborately adorned table, casting a surreal glow over the room. It had been some time since I last sat down at a real table for a meal. For weeks now I’ve spent every meal on Luna’s bed… our bed.

Not that I’m complaining. It is nice to eat at an actual table once in a while.

The damage wasn’t obvious. There wasn't any shattered windows or crumbled walls, but the signs were there for anyone who cared to really look. A scorch mark near the archway. A subtle dent in one of the golden candelabras. The faint scent of something burned that not even the castle’s thorough cleaning efforts could entirely erase.

I adjusted my seating. The chair was plush, but with only my left arm, I had to position myself carefully to keep from looking and feeling too awkward. Celestia had taken the head of the table, regal as ever, her flowing mane blending seamlessly into the warm hues of the sunset behind her. Luna sat to her left, her presence soothing and steady, a stark contrast to the day’s light waning outside. To her left was me, and I felt some comfort at being at her side. Across from us sat Cadance and Shining Armor, both of whom looked far more at ease than I did.

"Sebastian, are you sure you’ve been eating properly?" Cadance asked, her voice warm but probing. "You look... thinner than usual."

"I eat," I replied, not entirely truthful but not entirely a lie either. "Hard to keep up with three meals a day when you're spending your time un-stoning changelings."

The word, ‘changelings,’ hung in the air longer than I would have liked. Luna had insisted that we could spare the time for this dinner. She insisted that it was important to take time to catch up with the others and attain some reprieve from the endless repetition of activating the Platform of Disenchantment while bracing myself against the immediate animosity — or panic — of whatever changeling was freed. I knew she was right. I just wanted it to be over and done with, so that I may never see another changeling again.

It was a fool’s wish. The Geas ensured that wish would never come to fruition.

“I imagine it must be grueling,” Celestia said, her tone measured but sincere. “You’ve made remarkable progress in only a week.”

“Remarkable doesn’t quite cover it,” Shining added. “From what I hear, most ponies wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

I could only grunt in acknowledgment. Stomach it. That was one way to put it. Each thought of the changelings brought forth the image of the false-Luna’s lifeless form — its neck twisted and severed oozing green ichor — flashed in my mind. My lips pressed into a thin line as I reached for the glass of water in front of me, the stump of my right arm resting uselessly on the table’s edge.

“Sebastian, are you feeling alright?” Luna’s voice was soft but firm, cutting through the murmur of conversation like a blade.

“I’m fine,” I said, setting the glass down carefully. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary, and I felt the faintest touch of reassurance in that look. She knew better than to push, especially here, but the unspoken promise of a later conversation hung in the air.

“Is it Thorax?” Cadance asked, her voice so gentle it was hard to resent the question. “He seems... cooperative.”

“For now,” I muttered. “He just wants to free his fellow changelings and leave. Don’t mistake that for loyalty.”

“Still, working with one changeling peacefully is a start,” she said, her optimism almost irritating in its persistence. “You’re helping them.”

“I’m helping them because I must,” I snapped, then immediately regretted the sharpness of my tone. Cadance didn’t flinch, though. She simply nodded, as if she understood exactly what I meant.

Celestia cleared her throat, a subtle reminder to keep the conversation civil. “Thorax’s role is vital, whether he serves out of loyalty or necessity. His cooperation ensures the Geas remains intact, and that is what matters.”

“Agreed,” Luna said, her gaze sweeping the table. “But let us not dwell on the particulars of our burdens. Tonight is meant for respite.”

Shining chuckled, shaking his head. “Leave it to Luna to make rest sound like a duty.”

A faint smile ghosted across her face. “It is a duty, Captain Shining Armor. One I suggest you take seriously, given the impending nuptials.”

His expression softened as he glanced at Cadance. “We’re just happy to get another chance to do it right.”

“After what Chrysalis did,” Cadance said, her voice somehow losing none of its warmth, “a celebration feels even more important. For all of us.”

I wanted to believe her, to let her optimism ease the weight pressing against my chest, but the thought of Chrysalis still made my skin crawl. Her laughter echoed in my ears whenever I closed my eye for too long.

The door creaked open, and a line of servers entered, trays balanced expertly on their backs. The warm scent of roasted vegetables and spiced bread filled the room, briefly chasing away the darker corners of my thoughts. Conversation paused as the first dishes were placed before us, the polished silver covers catching the last rays of sunlight.

Dinner had arrived.

The clinking of silverware and soft rustle of napkins filled the air as the servers uncovered our plates. The spread was as extravagant as I expected: roasted vegetables drizzled with herb-infused oil, a loaf of bread spiced with something fragrant and foreign to me, a creamy soup that swirled in a way that screamed ‘magically prepared,’ and a selection of cheeses and fruits that looked like they belonged in a painting rather than on a table.

I glanced at Luna, who caught my eye and gave a subtle nod, as if to remind me that I was supposed to relax and enjoy this. Across the table, Cadance was already cutting into her food with the kind of enthusiasm that made her seem less like a princess and more like an eager dinner guest. Shining Armor took one look at Cadance, and lowered his enthusiasm in a way that seemed to spur her. But the way his eyes lingered on the bread suggested he was ready to dive in just as enthusiastically as his fiancé.

“This bread smells amazing,” Shining finally said, breaking the silence. “I think I might have missed it more than anything else in the castle.”

“More than me?” Cadance asked, raising an eyebrow but smiling as she speared a roasted carrot with her fork.

“Okay, maybe not more than you,” he conceded, chuckling. “But it’s a close second.”

Luna leaned slightly toward me, her voice just loud enough for me to hear. “Do you suppose they quarrel about such things often, or is this a rare occasion?”

“Every couple has their priorities,” I replied, smirking as I broke a piece of bread with my left hand. “Apparently, his is food.”

Cadance caught the tail end of our exchange and grinned. “Oh, don’t let him fool you. He’s been dreaming about this bread for days. When we were in Vanhoover, he swore he could smell it baking.”

“Betrayed by my own fiancée,” Shining muttered, though his grin didn’t falter. “If you’re going to tell them that, at least let me enjoy my bread first.”

Cadance laughed, the sound light and infectious, and I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders. It was hard to brood when she was so determined to keep the mood lively.

As the meal went on, Cadance steered the conversation into safer, more entertaining territory. She asked Shining about the most ridiculous training exercise he’d ever run with his Solar Guards, a question that led to an elaborate tale about a sparring session that had somehow turned into a pie-throwing contest. I tried to imagine the Lunar Guard and Noctra throwing pies, and a smirk snuck onto my face — they would never. Celestia added her own story about a particularly chaotic diplomatic dinner, and for a moment, I could almost forget the shadows that loomed over recent events.

“You must have stories of your own, Sebastian,” Cadance said, her eyes alight with curiosity. “I know Luna keeps you busy, but surely something funny has happened during your missions.”

I blinked, the question caught me off guard. “Funny isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe most of them, but there was this one time…”

I hesitated, but the way Cadance leaned forward, practically vibrating with anticipation, made it impossible to leave her hanging. “Aldin and I were fighting a nine-headed hydra in a bog — this was months ago, before the last Gala. We were about to close out the fight with a bit of magical flight and some other various ranged spells. From a safe distance, of course. But then these three fillies appeared. Let’s just say one thing led to another and I got a little banged up protecting those three. I asked them why they were there, and do you know what they said? They said that they saw a sign about a hydra, and thought they could get their cutie marks by looking at dangerous creatures.”

Cadance burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, that’s perfect. Can you imagine the look on your face?”

“I’m sure Aldin found it hilarious,” Luna said, her tone dry but her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Though I imagine you were less than pleased.”

“Honestly? I’m proud of myself for not losing my cool,” I admitted, shaking my head. “I find it funny in hindsight. Aldin found it funny in present sight.”

Shining chuckled. “That’s one for the books. At least no one important got seriously hurt.”

I glanced at Cadance, and saw Cadance roll her eyes and sighed inwardly. Uh-oh, buddy. You just dug your own grave. Setting the stage, I mustered up my best offended look and dramatically patted my scarred left shoulder. “Hey! I got seriously hurt!”

Shining didn’t miss a beat, stroking his chin in mock thought. “True. But I said no one important.”

Cadance didn’t hesitate, her hoof connecting with the back of his head in a playful yet decisive thwap. “Shining!”

The timing was perfect. Laughter bubbled out of me, and when I looked around, I realized I wasn’t alone — everyone else was in stitches, including Cadance, who now shook her head fondly at her fiancé’s antics.

As the laughter subsided and the conversation shifted again, I felt Luna’s hoof brush against my leg under the table. I glanced at her, and the slight quirk of her lips told me she was up to something.

“Hydra aside,” she began, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, “Sebastian has shown himself to be quite… resourceful during his missions. One might say he has a knack for overcoming obstacles with flair.”

I narrowed my eye at her. “Flair, huh?”

“Indeed,” she said, her gaze locking onto mine with a mischievous glint. “I’ve seen him handle challenges that would leave most trembling. And all with only Aldin for backup, no less. Quite impressive, wouldn’t you agree, Cadance?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cadance said, picking up on the tone immediately. “I’d say you’re lucky to have him by your side, Luna.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Luna said smoothly. “I chose him. And I daresay I chose well.”

Her words carried a flirtatious edge that brought heat to my face. I made a valiant effort to keep my expression neutral. “Are you trying to embarrass me in front of everyone, or is this just how you want relax this evening?”

“Who says I cannot do both?” she replied, her smile widening ever so slightly. "You know this is one of my preferred means of relaxion."

Cadance caught the exchange, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned slightly forward, clearly enjoying the interplay. Shining Armor, however, seemed to focus on his plate, perhaps hoping to avoid becoming part of the banter. A fool’s errand, but it was a valiant effort.

“Oh, Luna,” Cadance began, her tone light but pointed, “you’re laying it on thick. Poor Sebastian barely knows where to look.”

“I assure you, Cadance,” Luna said, her voice taking on a mock-seriousness that only deepened the mischief in her eyes, “he is quite adept at handling my attentions. Aren’t you, Sebastian?”

I set down my fork deliberately, meeting her gaze with as much composure as I could muster. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of test subject,” I replied, keeping my tone dry.

“A most exceptional one,” Luna said, her hoof brushing against my leg under the table as if to underscore her point.

Cadance laughed, shaking her head. “Shining, maybe I should take notes. What do you think? Should I start waxing poetic about your heroic deeds and leadership over dinner?”

Shining, already mid-bite, nearly choked. He quickly swallowed and gave her a sidelong look. “I think I prefer my compliments without an audience, thanks.”

“Oh, don’t be modest,” Cadance teased, leaning closer to him. Her voice dropped just slightly, enough to make the shift noticeable. “You did lead a whole battalion of the Solar Guard against an invading force. I’d say that deserves some recognition.”

Shining shifted in his seat, his ears flicking back in mild discomfort. “I was just doing my job,” he muttered.

“And you did it splendidly,” Cadance continued, undeterred. Her hoof brushed against his foreleg, her smile sweet but tinged with a playful challenge. “Isn’t that right, Auntie Celestia?”

Celestia, who had been watching the scene unfold with an amused expression, inclined her head gracefully. “Indeed. Shining Armor’s efforts were instrumental. But I suspect he prefers to let his actions speak for themselves.”

“See?” Shining said, gesturing toward Celestia as though her words proved his point.

“Oh, I see plenty,” Cadance countered, her voice dropping into a velvety tone that sent Shining’s cheeks into a deeper shade of red.

I caught Luna smirking out of the corner of my eye. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one enjoying the unfolding dynamic.

“Careful, Shining,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Cadance might start telling stories about you next. And I’m sure she has plenty.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Cadance said, her grin widening.

“Sebastian,” Shining said, his voice dry, “I thought we were on the same side.”

“Sorry, Captain,” I replied with a shrug. “Necessary sacrifices must be made.”

Luna leaned in, her voice a low murmur meant only for me. “And here I thought you preferred to keep a low profile. Yet you provoke so easily.”

I turned to her, arching an eyebrow. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Without question,” she replied, her tone so smug it was almost daring me to deny it.

The laughter and teasing around the table created a warm atmosphere, the weight of recent events fading into the background, at least for now. Celestia, acting as a quiet observer, watched over it all with a serene smile, as if she were content to let the younger ones have their fun.

“Luna,” Cadance said suddenly, fixing her with an exaggeratedly thoughtful look, “you’ve been quite bold tonight. It’s inspiring, really. Shining, maybe we should take a page out of their book. Don’t you think?”

Shining’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced between Cadance and Luna, clearly realizing he was about to be dragged further into whatever this was. “I think I need more bread,” he said, reaching for the basket as if it were a lifeline that would help him somehow escape.

Luna chuckled softly, her attention returning to me. “Do you see what I mean, Sebastian? Such evasion would never suit you. You face things head-on, as you should.”

I sighed, giving her a wry look. “And yet, here I am, completely outmatched.”

“That,” she said, her voice a low purr that made my stomach do a strange flip, “is precisely why I enjoy it so much.”

The door opened again, and dessert was brought in — a distraction that I was grateful for.

The servers placed an assortment of desserts before us — flaky pastries drizzled with honey, delicate fruit tarts topped with fresh cream, and a towering chocolate cake that looked like it could drown a hydra. The sweet scents filled the air, and for a brief moment, I focused on the rich, comforting aroma.

“You’re quiet, Sebastian,” Luna said, her voice cutting through the momentary reprieve. “Does dessert not entice you?”

“I’m just strategizing,” I replied, reaching for a small tart with my fork. “It’s only fair to plan ahead when you keep changing the rules of this game.”

Her grin deepened, the mischievous glint in her eyes unmistakable. “Oh, best-beloved, I am not changing the rules. Merely… heightening the stakes.”

Cadance, clearly intrigued, tilted her head as she selected a slice of the chocolate cake. “Heightening the stakes, huh? Sounds like something you’d enjoy, Luna.” Her gaze slid over to me. “And something Sebastian doesn’t seem too opposed to.”

I took a bite of the tart, letting the burst of tangy fruit buy me a moment to think. “I wouldn’t say I’m opposed. It’s just a matter of keeping up.”

“Keeping up?” Luna’s voice carried an air of feigned offense. “Is that what you think this is — a matter of endurance? My dearest, it is you who sets the pace.”

Cadance muffled a giggle behind her hoof, her amusement barely contained. “You two are adorable. Shining, do you think we’re this fun to watch?”

Shining Armor, who had been attempting to make himself as unnoticeable as possible behind a cup of coffee, choked slightly. “Uh, sure,” he managed, his tone noncommittal. “Though I think ‘adorable’ might not be the word I’d use.”

“Then what word would you use, Captain?” I asked, smirking as I threw him a metaphorical lifeline.

He hesitated, his ears flicking back as Cadance leaned in closer to him, her smile turning teasing. “Careful how you answer that,” she said sweetly, her hoof brushing his shoulder.

“I’d say…” Shining started, pausing to glance at Luna, whose predatory grin was locked firmly in place. “…‘entertaining.’ Definitely entertaining.”

Nailed it.

Celestia’s soft laugh from the head of the table drew our attention. “I would agree,” she said, her tone warm. “Though I do wonder how long you’ll let them keep you on the defensive, Sebastian.”

“Ah, but that’s the point,” Luna interjected smoothly. “He thrives in the heat of the moment, sister. That is why he intrigues me so.”

I leaned back, folding my left arm across my chest as I gave her a pointed look. “Intrigue, huh? Sounds like a fancy way of saying I’m stubborn.”

“Among other things,” she replied, her voice dropping into a velvet tone that sent a ripple of heat down my spine.

“Auntie Luna,” Cadance said, a sly smile forming as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Are you trying to get Sebastian to admit something? Because it kind of sounds like you are.”

“Oh, Cadance,” Luna replied, her wings shifting slightly as she leaned closer to me. “It is not a matter of ‘trying.’ I am simply ensuring the truth is undeniable.”

The competitive spark flared in me, and I smirked, determined not to let her win so easily. “The truth? I thought you just enjoyed the chase.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, a challenge simmering in the cool blue depths. “And what if I do? Will you deny me, Sebastian?”

I knew her game, but I couldn’t stop the faint warmth rising to my cheeks. Luna noticed instantly, of course, her expression turning triumphant.

“You see?” she said, her voice a purr. “Even now, you cannot hide it.”

Cadance was practically glowing with amusement as she turned to Shining. “This is better than any book I’ve read. I told you they’d be perfect for each other.”

Shining shook his head, though his faint grin betrayed his agreement. “I’m not getting involved.”

“Smart choice,” I said dryly, though my focus never left Luna. She was inching closer now, her gaze soft yet piercing, and I could feel the room narrowing to just the two of us.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice low enough that it barely carried beyond us. “Why fight it? Tell me, here and now, what I already know.”

Her breath brushed my cheek, her proximity leaving me nowhere to escape without conceding the game entirely. Her eyes gleamed with victory as she waited, silent and expectant.

For a moment, I let myself get lost in her eyes. Those endless, star-filled depths that seemed to hold entire galaxies in their perfection. The room faded away, the soft clinking of forks and quiet conversation reduced to a distant hum. It was just her — calm, confident, and impossibly beautiful.

I could have stayed in that moment forever, but I wasn’t about to let her win without a fight.

“Luna,” I said, my voice steady, though I could feel the faint heat on my face. “You know I’m not one to back down. But if you’re so certain you know what I’ll say, why ask?”

Her lips curved into a smile, her expression as pleased as it was predatory. “Because hearing it from your lips is far sweeter than knowing. And because I enjoy watching you squirm.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re stubborn.”

"So are you," she replied with an arched a brow, leaning just a fraction closer, causing her mane to brush my shoulder. “And you adore it.”

My grin betrayed me, and widened despite myself. “Maybe I do.”

She waited, her proximity daring me to say more. I glanced around the table, catching Cadance watching us with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, like she was witnessing the climax of her favorite romance novel. Shining looked mildly uncomfortable but resigned. Celestia made a token effort to hide her watching from behind her wine glass.

But none of them mattered in that instant. Only Luna did.

I turned back to her, my gaze meeting hers. The usual competitive fire in me cooled, if just for a moment. “Fine,” I said, my tone quieter now but no less certain. “You’re the love of my life, Luna.”

Her reaction was immediate and radiant. Her wings shifted slightly with the faintest motion of a triumphant flare, and her smile transformed into something brimming with satisfaction. Her gaze stayed locked on mine, and for once this evening, she seemed to have no clever retort, no teasing remark. Just joy — pure, unfiltered, and utterly intoxicating in its captivity.

And I couldn’t help but to bask in it. Seeing her like this, so openly delighted, was worth every bit of the teasing and whatever embarrassment that accompanied it. Whatever competitive edge I’d tried to hold onto melted away in the face of her happiness.

It was a victory I did not mind surrendering, and in turn I was awarded the grander prize of her smile.

Dance

The cold air of the dungeon nipped at my skin, the faint scent of damp stone and remnants of arcane magic lingering in the air. The faint echoes of shuffling hooves and murmured conversations bounced off the walls as I stood before the Platform of Disenchantment. A single petrified changeling rested at its center, its expression frozen in a desperate snarl borne from its last moments before the gorgon’s breath froze the thing solid in stone.

Luna stood to my left, her presence a steadying force, though the tension in her jaw betrayed her own unease. Noctra flanked her, her amber eyes sharp and ever watchful, while two Lunar Guards lingered near the exit, their stances stiff with barely concealed distaste.

Thorax stood at my right, his nervous energy apparent in the way he shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. Behind him, a small group of recently freed changelings watched the scene with wary eyes, their thin, membranous wings twitching occasionally.

This was it — the last one.

“Ready?” I asked, glancing at Thorax.

He nodded, his voice quiet but resolute. “Ready.”

I stepped forward, placing my left hand on the cool stone of the platform. My aura flared to life, a hazel glow that illuminated the room in a soft, pulsating light. The familiar burn ignited in my left eye, a searing ache that sent a wave of raw, electric energy coursing through my veins.

The runes carved into the platform responded immediately, their lines glowing with an otherworldly green hue as they drew from my magic. The air around us grew heavy, humming with the power being channeled.

As the spell took hold, the changeling statue began to crack. Thin lines spider-webbed across its surface, the brittle sound sharp against the muffled silence of the dungeon. Dust and fragments of stone flaked away, revealing glimpses of glossy black chitin beneath.

The cracks deepened, spreading like wildfire until the statue seemed on the verge of collapse. I gritted my teeth, the surge of power roaring in my ears as I guided the spell to completion. The runes on the platform pulsed once, twice, then dimmed.

The stone encasing the changeling exploded outward in a flurry of dust and rubble, the pieces clattering against the platform before scattering to the floor.

The freed changeling staggered, its limbs trembling as it took in its surroundings. Its compound eyes darted wildly, its breathing shallow and ragged. Confusion and fear radiated from it in waves, and it recoiled as if expecting an attack.

Before the tension could spiral into something worse, Thorax stepped forward. His movements were slow and deliberate, his voice calm and steady. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his tone laced with reassurance. “You’re safe now.”

The newly freed changeling froze, its gaze locking onto Thorax. He took another step closer, his posture open and unthreatening. Thorax’s presence seemed to sooth the new changeling.

Thorax once again, at least the hundredth time, proved himself invaluable in this endeavor.

The glow of the platform faded, leaving behind only the faint glimmer of enchanted torches lining the walls. The last freed changeling — still trembling slightly — stood motionless, its wary gaze shifting from Thorax to Luna and then to me. I folded my arm across my chest, allowing Thorax to work his peculiar talent for calming members of his kind.

"You're with us," Thorax said softly, his tone carrying a quiet conviction. He moved closer to the changeling, his wings twitching faintly but never lifting in alarm. "The battle is over now. No more danger. Just… us."

The changeling blinked as recognition crossed its sharp features. Thorax tilted his head, offering a small smile. For a moment, I almost envied how easily he could disarm his kind, how his presence alone could bridge the gaps of fear and confusion.

Luna shifted beside me, her regalia catching the faint light. I could feel the intensity of her attention as she studied the scene. Noctra and the two Lunar Guards stood by the doorway, their bat-like wings draped loosely over their backs, sharp eyes watching for any sudden movements.

Thorax gently touched the newly freed changeling's shoulder, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. The changeling hesitated, then slowly nodded. He had done it again.

Noctra cleared her throat, her amber eyes glinting as she stepped forward. "The recently freed ones will need to be escorted to the entrance," she said, her tone formal but not unkind. "The Queen's agents are waiting to take them."

Thorax turned, giving her a quick nod before addressing the small group of changelings. "Go with her," he urged, his voice kind but firm. "She'll guide you safely. I'll join you soon."

The changelings exchanged glances before shuffling toward Noctra and her guards. Noctra gave me a small nod, a silent acknowledgement of her task, before leading them out of the dungeon. The sound of their hoofsteps echoed and faded, leaving only Thorax, Luna, and me in the dimly lit, and now vacant dungeon.

The silence stretched unbroken. Thorax hesitated, his wings rustling slightly before he finally spoke.

"So… what happens to me now?" His voice was quiet, almost too soft for the room.

I turned to look at him, his wide, uncertain eyes meeting mine. He stood there, looking unsure in such a way that I never saw in any of his kind. Only ever in him.

I exhaled slowly, the cold air of the dungeon biting against my skin as I turned my full attention to Thorax. His wings twitched nervously, their thin membranes catching faint flickers of torchlight. His gaze wavered between me and Luna, and there was something in his expression — a mix of resignation and dread — that twisted in my chest.

"You return to your Queen," I said, keeping my voice even. It wasn’t a choice, not really, but I let the words hang as though they might be. "It is for the best. Your place is with your Queen."

Thorax's ears drooped, and he dipped his head, nodding slowly. "I figured as much," he murmured, his voice carrying a strange intonation to it, as though he wished to stay. He paused, glancing up at me with wide, uncertain eyes. "I just… I wanted to say thank you. For letting me help. For trusting me." His voice cracked, and he flinched as though ashamed of the emotion that slipped through.

Trust.

The word struck me like a blow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth that refused to leave. I didn't trust him. I couldn't. He was a changeling, a creature whose very nature made trust feel like a dangerous gamble. Misplaced trust is what cost me half my vision. Trust was what led to my best-buddy dying. Trust had gotten me killed.

And yet, over the past days, he'd proven himself over and over again — calming the freed changelings, guiding them, standing between them and annihilation. Thorax never once showed even the slightest hint of betrayal or subterfuge, every moment of his time in Canterlot was watched closely by a combination of Lunar Guard, Luna, and myself.

Still, the image of that false Luna lingered in my mind, unbidden and cruel. It felt impossible to decouple that mangled corpse, and every bit of emotion that came with it, from Thorax, or any other changeling.

"Thorax..." I started, my words faltering as guilt welled up. My hate felt unbearable in that moment, especially when I looked at him, so painfully earnest and out of place among his own kind. "I—" The words caught in my throat.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, cutting me off. His voice was small, and he stepped back as though expecting a blow in return for his apology. "For… for being what I am. For what we did. For what I did." He lowered his head, his wings drooping. "If I could change it — change myself — I would."

The words hit harder than I expected. My hand closed into a fist at my side, and I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of Luna. Her icy gaze softened as she glanced between us, her silence urging me forward.

"You don't have to apologize," I said, the words heavy with effort. "Not for existing. Not for what is beyond your control." My voice grew quieter. "I should be the one apologizing. For… hating you. For hating what you are."

Thorax blinked, his eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. "Why? After everything my kind has done to you?"

"Because you did not do it," I replied firmly, though my voice cracked slightly. "Thorax, you are not those changelings from the alley, or Chrysalis. I know that. But knowing it doesn’t make it easy to let go of the hate. That is not your fault. It is mine."

His gaze lingered on me, searching for something. Understanding, maybe. Forgiveness, though I couldn’t imagine why he’d seek it from me. Finally, he nodded, his expression unreadable.

"I'll try to do better," he said quietly.

"You already are," Luna interjected, her tone calm but resolute. She stepped forward, her silver-clad hooves echoing against the stone. "And you have my thanks for that. You are the first of your kind, that I have seen, to have shown the strength of character you possess."

Thorax's ears flicked, and his wings fluttered in what almost looked like embarrassment. He muttered something too quiet to hear. If our time together was any indication, then it was most likely something about humbling himself.

"Come," Luna said, gesturing toward the exit. "The hour grows late, and the others will need your guidance once more as you all return to your Queen."

Thorax nodded again, following as Luna began walking toward the staircase leading up. I fell into step beside him, the flickering torches casting our shadows against the walls.

I kept my gaze forward, focusing on the corridors of the dungeon, and the stairs that would lead to the greater portions of the castle. The weight of what I’d said — and what I hadn’t — settled heavily on my chest. But for now, I pushed it aside. There would be time to untangle it later.

For now, I walked with Luna and Thorax through the castle’s cold halls, the winter night pressing in from beyond the stone. The crisp night air greeted us as we emerged into the open corridors leading to the castle entrance. The stars overhead were faint against the city’s glow, but I easily traced the familiar constellations in my mind — a habit I’d picked up from Luna.

Together, we guided Thorax toward the exit, where the rest of his kind awaited.

The stars hung high above the castle, their faint light spilling across the wide stone steps leading to the grand entrance. The constellations Luna had taught me whispered of comfort and certainty, but tonight they offered little solace. Their cold radiance seemed to match the air between us.

Thorax walked beside me, his movements stiff and uncertain. Luna flanked my other side, her presence a steadying anchor despite the quiet disdain that mirrored my own feelings. The corridor stretched ahead, the light of enchanted sconces dancing on stone walls and the nearly imperceivable clinking of armored hooves echoing behind us — our unseen shadows of the Lunar Guard, only noticed by my ears due to my foreknowledge of their existence.

I slowed my pace.

Thorax, seemingly lost in his thoughts, took a few steps before noticing. His wings twitched nervously as he turned to face me, amber eyes wide with an unreadable mix of curiosity and apprehension. Luna stopped a step ahead, glancing back at me, her expression impassive yet watchful.

"Thorax," I began, my voice steady but carrying the weight of my words. "Before you go… there's something I need to say."

His ears perked, his posture shrinking slightly as though bracing for another blow, verbal or otherwise. "Y-yes?"

I drew a breath, my hand brushing the hilt of Promise, not out of aggression but for the grounding comfort it offered. "I’ve hated your kind for what they’ve done. For what Chrysalis has done. I won’t pretend that’s changed. Not entirely."

Thorax's wings buzzed faintly, a nervous reflex that quieted as he forced himself to stillness.

"But you," I continued, "you’ve shown me something different. Through all of this — helping your swarm, keeping the peace, even standing here now — you’ve proven that you're not what I thought all changelings to be. You’ve given me hope that a peaceful path is possible. And for that, I…" My words caught briefly, the admission weighing heavier than I expected. "I want to believe in you. Maybe even call you a friend, if you'd allow it."

The silence that followed was deafening. Thorax blinked at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his mouth opened in a hesitant, uncertain smile. "You… you mean that?" His voice cracked, and for a moment, the nervous changeling I had come to tolerate — and perhaps even admire — shone through.

I nodded, my single eye meeting his. "I do. It won’t be easy for me. For either of us. But I think it’s worth trying."

His wings buzzed again, this time with what I could only describe as hope. "I… I’d like that," he said, his voice trembling with a sincerity that cut through my lingering guilt. "More than anything, I’d like that."

Luna stepped closer, her presence solid beside me. She didn't speak but offered a faint nod to Thorax. It was as close to an endorsement as any changeling could hope for from her. He practically beamed at that little nod.

With that, we continued down the corridor, the heavy castle doors growing larger as we approached. The chill of the winter night pressed in, crisp and biting, as we stepped outside. The group of changelings stood waiting near the edge of the steps, their glowing eyes shifting nervously. The guards stationed openly behind them watched with silent vigilance, their armor gleaming in the torchlight.

Thorax turned to face us one last time. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. His gaze lingered on me before darting to Luna. "For everything. Even if it was… complicated."

"Go," I said, my tone soft but firm. "Your Queen’s waiting. And Thorax…" I hesitated, then added, "Good luck."

He nodded, then turned to rejoin his swarm. As they moved as one down the grand steps, Noctra and her unit of stealthier Lunar Guards melted into the shadows, their silent departure a stark contrast to the visible escort trailing behind the changelings.

Luna and I remained at the top of the steps, watching until the group disappeared into the winter night. The glow of Canterlot’s lights seemed to fade with them, leaving only the cold stars and the faint whisper of the wind.

"It’s done," I said, more to myself than to Luna.

“It is,” Luna replied softly, her voice carrying the strength of finality. She moved closer, her shoulder brushing against mine as we stood at the top of the castle steps. The cold wind played with her mane, the ethereal strands flowing like a river of starlight.

The weight of the past weeks bore down on me. The dungeon, the frozen expressions of the petrified changelings, the tension that accompanied each release — it was all over. I should have felt relief, but guilt gnawed at me instead. Not for what I had done, but for the feelings I couldn’t seem to shake. Thorax’s hopeful expression as he left lingered in my mind, a profane testament of the hatred I had aimed at him, and all of his kind for the crime of simple existence.

“Sebastian,” Luna said gently, drawing my attention. Her eyes searched mine, her gaze steady and calm. “You’ve done more than what was required. You gave them a chance.”

“Because I had to,” I muttered, turning my gaze back to the horizon. The stars blurred for a moment, and I blinked the sensation away. “I didn’t do it for them. I did it because I needed Chrysalis bound. That’s all.”

She knew that was a lie. I had already told her that my offer of friendship was of my own desires, but instead of pressing me on it, she pressed her wing lightly across my back in a show of quiet reassurance. “Even so, you acted with reason and compassion when many others would not. That, too, speaks of your strength.”

Strength. What a hollow word. Once, I had hungered to be strong. A fool who believed that strength would somehow shield my loved ones from the dangers of the world. Where was my strength during the invasion? Where was my strength when Aldin needed me most? So grand was my strength, that I could only die when it came down to it. I wanted to snap at her, and deny any semblance of that ‘strength’ she sees in me, but that wouldn’t do anything for anyone. It would only serve to hurt, and I couldn’t bring myself to even humor the notion.

Instead, I let her words settle over me like a blanket against the chill. “Maybe.”

We stood in silence for a moment longer, the faint hum of the city below blending with the winter wind. My thoughts churned, but Luna’s presence kept me from sinking into those darker depths of thought.

Finally, she shifted, her wing curling slightly to nudge me toward our spire. “Come. The night still holds surprises for you.”

I arched a brow, glancing at her. “Surprises?”

A playful smile touched her lips. “You will see.”

Intrigued despite myself, I followed her through the castle halls. The corridors were quieter now, the usual hum of activity reduced to a faint murmur as the castle settled into its nocturnal rhythm. The faint glow of torches flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced with each step we took.

As we ascended the spiral staircase leading to our chambers, the tension I’d carried began to ease. This place had become familiar since I agreed to moving in. It had become home — an almost isolated sanctuary where the outside world felt distant, where it was just Luna and me.

When we reached the top, she opened the door with a soft glow of her magic. The chamber’s initial cold was swiftly banished by a spark of Luna’s magic that set the logs of the fireplace alight. Our room was filled with the comforting sound of crackling wood. The rich scent of aged wood filled the air, mingling with the lingering, crisp hint of the winter night that still clung to us.

Luna stepped inside, and I followed, letting the door silently close behind me. The firelight danced over the canopy bed, the shimmer of the curtains catching my eye as they moved faintly in the draft.

“What’s the surprise?” I asked, my curiosity piquing.

She turned to face me, her smile deepening. “Patience, my moonlight. All will be revealed.”

Moonlight.

The nickname made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t entirely prepared for. She had recently begun using it, but each time, it warmed my heart and soul.

She moved toward the open space near the fireplace, her magic coming to life and drawing a phonograph from its resting place in the corner. Smoothly, she set the needle on a record, and the soft, melodic strains of a waltz began to fill the room.

I froze. "Luna," I began, already suspecting where this was going. "You can’t be serious."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Quite serious. Dancing is an essential skill for one who walks among nobles and courts. Recent events have stolen the time necessary for this lesson, but that is no longer the case. As my consort, it is time you learned to dance."

“Why do you assume I don’t know how to dance?” I asked with mock offence.

Her silent stare and knowing smirk was more than enough of an answer. A different approach then?

"I have one arm," I weakly pointed out, half-hoping she’d reconsider.

"And you have one princess willing to teach you," she countered smoothly. She stepped closer, her magic guiding my hand to her shoulder. Her own hoof rested lightly at my waist. "Let us begin."

I sighed, defeated but not entirely displeased. "Fine. But if I step on your hooves, you’ve only yourself to blame."

Her laughter echoed softly in the chamber, warm and unrestrained. "I shall take that risk gladly, Sebastian."

Luna’s laughter faded into a soft hum as the music swelled, filling the room with its lilting rhythm. Her touch was feather-light but firm, her presence embracing me in a way that made me feel both unprepared and utterly captivated. She looked up at me, her mane shimmering like the night sky, the faintest glimmer of stars dancing in her hair.

"Relax," she said softly, her voice a gentle melody of its own. "The first step is to let the music guide you. Feel it."

I focused on the waltz, the steady cadence of its three-beat rhythm. Luna’s gaze remained steady, patient, waiting for me to follow her lead.

My first attempt was, to put it generously, awkward. I stumbled slightly, my single hand too stiff as it rested on her shoulder. My feet moved out of sync with the music, and I barely avoided stepping on her hoof.

She chuckled, the sound devoid of mockery, and adjusted her position with the ease of a seasoned dancer. "You are overthinking, my moonlight. Trust yourself — and trust me."

Her words were straightforward, yet were imbued with a genuineness that was impossible for me to ignore. With a deep breath, I exhaled the tension that had crept back into my shoulders unnoticed. She led me once more, her movements fluid and confident, her hoof never straying from my waist to coax me to match her rhythm.

This time, I managed a passable imitation of the steps she demonstrated. The warmth of her magic subtly adjusted my footing, and her presence filled the gaps left by my inexperience. The firelight painted her in shades of gold and deep blue, and for a moment I forgot my doubts.

"Better," she murmured, her voice as soft as the music that surrounded us. "See? You are not hopeless after all."

"I’m sure you’re thinking otherwise," I said, trying to mask my grin with a mock glare.

Her sly smile betrayed her. "I may have had my doubts."

The next few minutes were a slow dance of trial and error. I faltered more than once, earning the occasional teasing quip from Luna, but her patience never waned. Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite my missteps.

By the time I managed a full turn without tripping over my own feet, she nodded approvingly. "You learn quickly," she said. "Perhaps I shall not have to fear my consort embarrassing me at the wedding after all."

"High praise," I said, unable to resist the chance to tease back. "And here I thought I was doomed to be the court’s jester."

"Hardly," she said, her tone softening. "You shall be the court’s envy."

Her words held an unexpected gravity, and for a heartbeat, I faltered — not in the steps of the dance, but in grasping the weight of what this moment signified. The gentle pressure of her hoof at my waist, the way her gaze softened each time it found mine, the music enveloping the room and threading us into its harmony — it all spoke of a shared life taking shape.

The hatred, the scars, the memories — they lingered at the edge of my thoughts like distant echoes but no longer dictated the rhythm of my heart. The firelight danced across the room, but it was Luna’s quiet assurance that illuminated everything. Her presence, her guidance through my clumsy steps, shrank those shadows until they were mere specks in the distance.

I gave a slight, instinctive squeeze of her shoulder, a quiet offering of gratitude and understanding. Her smile deepened, as though she had heard the unspoken, and she led me into another graceful turn.

As the music shifted into a slower, more intimate melody, she leaned in, her cheek brushing against mine. "You are doing well," she whispered, her voice low and warm.

"What can I say? I have a good teacher."

We swayed together, the dance now less about precision and more about connection. The world outside the room seemed to fade, leaving only the two of us and the music that bound us.

Her mane tickled my cheek, and I closed my eye, letting myself be carried by the rhythm and the presence of the mare in my arms. The future, the past, the weight of all we had endured — they felt distant now, eclipsed by the quiet joy of this moment.

And as we continued to dance, I realized I wasn’t just learning to dance.

I was learning to live again.

And so, we danced.

Matrimony

The air was crisp as sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of Canterlot Castle’s ballroom. Due to… recent events, Cadance and Shining opted for this change of venue. I had insisted that I had no issue with the prior one, but no one believed me.

In hindsight I’m glad they didn’t believe me, because I was lying. I’m not sure if I could have made it through the ceremony if I had to stand in the same room Aldin and I were murdered in.

I banished the thoughts with a shake of my head, and instead focused on my surroundings.

The faint scent of winter lingered in the air, mingling with the fragrance of fresh flowers meticulously arranged along the aisle. Rarity had done well with designing the décor. Guests filled the seats, a mix of mostly ponies, some thestrals, a few zebras, a pair of griffons, and a sole yak, all dressed in their finest attire. The murmurs of an antsy crowd carried through the room.

Standing beside Shining Armor at the altar, I adjusted the cuff of my sleeve with a bit of magic as I cast a glance toward him. His usually confident demeanor was marred by a nervous energy I had never seen on him before. His jaw tightened, his eyes roaming toward the large double doors at the end of the aisle, then back to the floor.

"Cold hooves?" I asked quietly while trying to keep my tone light.

Shining gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head but unable to meet my eye. "No, not cold hooves. Just... a lot to take in."

That was not very convincing at all.

I took a moment to plan my approach before I stepped slightly closer, keeping my voice low. "Why are you here, Shining?"

He blinked, finally looking at me. "What... what do you mean?"

I gestured subtly down the aisle, and towards the doors that Cadance would soon be walking through. "Why are you standing here, waiting for Cadance? Why not any other pony in Equestria? Why her?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard. His ears twitched as he thought, his expression softening in realization. "Because... she’s everything," he said after a moment. "She’s kind, strong, smarter than me most of the time... and she loves me for who I am. Even when I screw up, she’s there. She makes me better."

"Exactly," I said, offering him a small smile. "That’s why you’re here. Because you love her, and she loves you. Everything else? Just background noise."

Shining exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

I smirked, leaning in just enough to keep our conversation private. "Also, it’s a bit late to fake your death, so you’re kind of stuck with her now."

He stifled a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re the worst best man ever."

"In my defense: I am the only best man in Equis," I quipped. “Therefore I am both the best, and the worst.”

"Sure, buddy," Shining replied with a roll of his eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

A wider smile etched itself onto my face as I flipped him the bird. “I’ll have you know, I don’t sleep at night."

The soft hum of conversation among the guests faded, replaced by a collective hush. The first strains of a sort of bridal march began to play, and all eyes turned to the grand doors as they swung open. Cadance appeared, radiant in a flowing white gown that shimmered in the sunlight. Her mane, styled with delicate curls, framed her face perfectly, and the love in her eyes bordered on the divine as she began her walk down the aisle.

I glanced at Shining, whose breath audibly caught as he saw her. His nerves were forgotten and cast away, replaced by pure love and awe. Cadance had slain his doubts with her existence alone.

Twilight Sparkle walked alongside Cadance, her expression a mix of pride, emotion, and nerves as she walked her sister-in-law-to-be down the aisle. Twilight held her head high and took measured steps as if determined to perform her role perfectly, but I could see the doubts she tried so hard to hide. Twilight was braver than I. I just have to stand here and try to look presentable, she had to walk Cadance down the aisle. Cadance’s every step exuded a joyful grace as they passed row after row of guests, many of whom wore soft smiles or dabbed at their eyes with tissues Rarity had so wisely seen fit to supply to each row prior.

Near the front, Twilight’s friends sat and watched intently.

Pinkie Pie leaned forward as if she could barely contain her excitement, while Rarity seemed to be trying — and failing miserably — at holding back tears of her own. Fluttershy sat beside Rainbow Dash, the latter seemed to be trying to dismiss the event in its entirety, and once Fluttershy fully turned her attention back to the proceedings, Rainbow began quickly dabbing at her eyes. Applejack, seated at the edge of the group, shot a quick glance towards her friends before smoothly placing a stetson atop her head and smiled as though she had just won some important bet.

I shifted my stance slightly, my eye catching on Shining as he stood rooted to the spot. Every ounce of Shining's attention was laser focused onto Cadance. For a stallion who commanded the entirety of the Solar Guard, he looked utterly unarmed in the face of love. The sight was strangely endearing.

Was this how I looked when I looked at Luna?

My eye instinctively sought her out.

Luna was seated near the front alongside Twilight’s friends. Luna and Celestia had decided early on to stick with their normal regalia, as to not show up the bride and groom at their own wedding, but still she stood out even among the fancier dressed ponies. Her eyes met my own briefly, a subtle smile playing at her lips, and the world seemed to narrow for a moment. The nearly silent hum of the guests, the music, even the significance of the ceremony — all of it faded as I held her gaze. It was as if she was silently informing me that no matter how elaborate or grand the moment may be, my heart belonged to her.

Cadance interrupted my line of thought as she stepped closer to Shining, her gaze fixed on him. Twilight gave her an encouraging smile, along with some hushed words, before stepping aside to take her seat with her friends. Shining’s posture straightened, his expression turned soft as Cadance ascended the short platform to stand beside him. The music eased to a halt, leaving the room cloaked in expectant silence.

Princess Celestia stood tall behind the soon-to-be-wed couple. She spread her wings slightly, a gesture that commanded attention without the need of a single word. The window behind her produced a ray of sunshine that made her regalia softly glow as her melodious voice filled the room.

"Dear friends and family," she began, "we gather here today to celebrate the union of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Captain Shining Armor, two souls whose love has inspired us all. Their bond reminds us that love is not merely a feeling but a choice — a commitment to stand by one another through all of life’s challenges and triumphs."

As Celestia continued, I felt an unexpected stirring in my chest. Her words weren’t just mere ceremony; they resonated within me deeply, as though each word was being whispered directly to my heart and soul alike. My gaze drifted back to Luna, who was watching the proceedings with a serene intensity. Memories of our shared moments surfaced unbidden — the nights spent in bouts of sparring and constellations, our shared confessions of love, the passion that seemed to always sweetly burn in our moments together, the first time I preened her wings, the promise of a future filled with peace and love we’d dreamt of together, and so much more.

A thought bloomed with a intensity in my mind: I want this with her.

Not just the shared moments or the love that had grown between us — I wanted the commitment, the declaration. To stand beside her, not just as her consort, but as her husband. The realization was a steady flame that warmed every inch of me from within, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was what I wanted more than anything.

Celestia’s voice drew my attention back to the ceremony as she motioned toward me. She had said something, and although I did not hear it, I knew what must be done.

I stepped forward, careful not to fumble as I held up the small velvet pillow bearing the golden circlets. Shining and Cadance exchanged vows, their words heartfelt and unshaken, even as their voices carried their love. Shining’s magic lifted Cadance’s ring, his aura steady as he placed it on her horn. The motion was mirrored by Cadance who did the same, her movements steady despite the glistening in her eyes.

"In the presence of those who love you," Celestia declared, a soft smile breaking her usual composed demeanor, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may share your first kiss as a married couple."

Shining stepped closer to Cadance, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then their lips met, and the room erupted in a cacophony of stomping, applause, and cheers. It was a kiss filled with tenderness and joy, a sort of promise in of itself.

My remaining hand found its way to Promise’s pommel. My thumb traced the shape of Luna’s crescent moon that rested there as I stepped back to give them more space. My gaze roamed to Luna again, who met my eye with a knowing look. She smiled — not the polite one she wore for the public, but the one that she reserved just for me.

My heart swelled, a quiet thought crystallizing in my mind amidst the boisterous celebration.

Someday, Luna… us too.

The stomping, applause, and cheering continued even as Shining and Cadance parted. Their foreheads rested together for a brief moment as they whispered words belonging to no one but themselves, and shared smiles bright enough to outshine the daylight streaming through the grand hall’s stained-glass windows. The guests began to rise, the atmosphere charged with excitement for the next part of the celebration. My duty as the best man wasn’t over yet, but for now, the attention shifted entirely to the newlyweds as they descended the platform to take their first steps together as husband and wife.

Their destination was the dance floor for the first dance. Mine was to Luna.

I moved through the throng of departing guests, slipping between clusters of chatter and laughter alike, my focus fixed ahead. The air was alive with post-ceremony energy, but my attention was solely on Luna who was waiting near the edge of the seating area. Her eyes caught mine immediately, as they always did. Whether it was some shared instinct or her ability to sense me as effortlessly as I felt her presence, she never failed to find me.

Then again, it might just be the fact that I towered over most ponies, and stood out even more by not being one.

“Sebastian,” she greeted as I approached, her voice soft but carrying its usual strength. There was warmth in her eyes, a quiet pride that tugged at something deep in my chest. “You performed admirably.”

“Just doing my job,” I replied with a small grin. “Though, between you and me, I think they might have stolen the show.”

Her lips curved into a smile, one that made me wish the crowd around us would vanish entirely so that we could be alone. “As it should be.”

I offered her my arm, and she accepted it gracefully, her silver-shod hoof slipping into the crook of my elbow as if it had always belonged there. Together, we turned toward the center of the hall, where a cleared space awaited for Shining and Cadance’s first dance. The musicians began to tune their instruments, the soft notes weaving through the air as the guests formed a wide circle around the space.

Shining led Cadance to the center, his every movement were almost reverent, as if he couldn’t quite believe this moment was real. The music swelled, and they began to dance. It was a slow and deliberate dance, their steps perfectly synchronized. Their eyes never left each other, an expression of joy and contentment plastered onto both of their faces.

Standing beside Luna, I felt her lean slightly into me, and I found myself matching the motion. I glanced at her, catching the subtle tilt of her head as she watched the couple with a soft expression on her face. The way her eyes softened, the gentle tilt of her head — it was a look of genuine happiness for the pair before us. But it also reminded me of the moments we’d shared in solitude, away from the pomp and spectacle.

I could see it in my mind's eye... a cottage tucked away from it all. Where the only problems that reached us were snow, logs for the fire, and where we would like to cuddle to watch the rise and fall of her moon.

It was impossible to look away from her.

“Do you think they’ll last?” I asked quietly, making sure my voice was low enough not to disturb the moment.

Luna turned her gaze to me, one brow arching slightly. “Do you doubt their bond?”

“Not in the slightest,” I admitted with a shake of my head. “Just curious what you think.”

Her smile returned, small but genuine. “I think their love is strong. Like all relationships, it will face its trials, but their foundation is more than solid enough to weather any trial.”

I nodded, her words resonating more than I expected. “Good answer. They’re a good match,” I said quietly, my gaze shifting back to Shining and Cadance.

“They are,” Luna agreed, her voice carrying a wistful note. “It is rare to see such harmony between two souls.”

I nodded, my mind wandering to the thought that had taken root during the ceremony. Noctra was right. Luna deserved more than stolen moments of time or the shared dreams of a distant cabin. No, she deserved everything. The vows, the commitment, the dance that spoke of our love in a way that words could not match.

Before I could put voice to any of it, the song drew to a close, and Shining and Cadance finished with a flourish, the room erupting into applause once more. They turned to their guests, both a little breathless but beaming all the same, and made their way to their seats at the head table.

The band struck up a lighter tune, signaling the start of the open dance floor, but for now, the focus shifted to the meal ahead. The guests began to find their seats, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor mingling with laughter and chatter.

Luna and I followed suit, taking our places at a table close to the newlyweds. As I settled into my chair, my thoughts lingered on the quiet moment we’d shared and the desire that had solidified in my heart.

Dinner was a spread worthy of royalty, yet it felt personal in its details. It was a culinary representation of Shining Armor and Cadance’s love for those they held dear. Platters of roasted vegetables, spiced bread, and an array of decadent cakes adorned the tables. The conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the warm hum of voices as guests shared stories, their joy evident in every glance toward the happy couple.

I ate slowly, savoring this rare moment of peace, my gaze often drifting to Luna. Her expression was serene, yet her eyes sparkled with a quiet joy that made my chest tighten. She caught me staring at one point and smirked, tilting her head as if to say, ‘Caught you.’ I returned her smirk with a wink, then I realized that I couldn’t wink in a way that made sense anymore. So instead, I wiggled my eyebrows.

I turned my attention to my plate as Luna held back a giggle.

Twilight Sparkle rose to her hooves not long after dessert was served. Her nervous energy made apparent by the way she quickly hid note cards under the table, and adjusted her mane with a burst of magic before speaking. “If I could have everypony’s attention?”

The room fell quiet, all eyes on her. She cleared her throat, glanced at her brother, then began. “I’ve always looked up to my brother. He’s been my hero, my protector, and my best friend since I was a filly. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be any happier than when he was helping others, whether it was as Captain of the Guard or just being my BBBFF—” she grinned sheepishly at the abbreviation, drawing soft chuckles from the crowd, “—but then Cadance came into his life.”

Her gaze softened as she looked at the newlyweds. “You brought out a side of Shining I hadn’t seen before. A softer, sillier, and loving side. You make him better, Cadance, just as I know he’ll strive every day to make you happier than the last.”

Her voice wavered slightly, and I realized that she was sneaking peeks at her note cards. She gave them a look before tossing them away, and pressing on without them. “Your love is inspiring, and it gives me hope for the kind of connection I want to find someday. I love you both, and I wish you a lifetime of happiness.”

Applause filled the room as Twilight sat down, her cheeks flushed but her smile wide. Shining reached over to pat her hoof in thanks, and Cadance nodded with a warmth that seemed to light up the entire hall.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of expectation press down on me. Shining caught my eye, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “You sure you don’t want to say anything, Sebastian?”

I groaned inwardly but pushed my chair back, rising to my feet all the same. “Fine,” I muttered, earning a childish laugh from Shining. I stepped around the table, the room quieting once more as I faced the guests and gave them all a once over.

“I told Shining I wasn’t going to give a speech,” I began, sweeping my gaze over the crowd. “But, well, he’s not going to let this one go. So, fuck it, here goes nothing.” That earned a round of chuckles, Shining’s the loudest among them.

I turned toward him, and his grin faltered slightly, replaced by something a little more genuine. “From the moment I stepped foot into Canterlot, you’ve been there. Not just as a captain, but as a friend. You’ve got a good heart, Shining, and Cadance — well, she’s the princess of love for a reason. She must know something I don’t.”

I flashed a smile at Shining before I turned to Cadance. “Cadance, thank you for loving this fool. He’s lucky to have you. But, between you and me, we’re all lucky you’re the one keeping him in line.”

The crowd laughed again, Shining groaning in mock protest while Cadance grinned triumphantly. I let the humor settle before continuing, and I let my tone take on a more soft and serious inflection. “You two are the kind of pair that makes the rest of us believe in something bigger than ourselves. You don’t just love each other — you make love seem like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.”

I raised my glass, the gesture mirrored by the guests. “To Shining and Cadance: may your days be filled with laughter, your nights with peace, and your lives with the kind of love that brought us all here today.”

A cheer went up as glasses clinked around the room. I caught Shining’s eyes one last time as I sat down, and the gratitude there needed no words.

The clinking of glasses faded into the hum of conversation, the crowd resuming their celebratory chatter. I leaned back in my seat, taking a long pull from my own glass as Shining and Cadance shared a quiet moment at the head table, their gazes locked in that unspoken language used only by the deeply in love.

Luna leaned in close, her voice low but warm. “A fine speech, my love. You did them proud.”

I smirked, turning my head slightly to meet her gaze. “Didn’t think I had it in me, did you?”

Her hoof lightly brushed against my knee beneath the table. “I never doubted you.”

The touch lingered for a heartbeat before she pulled away, leaving behind a warmth that left me yearning for more. In a vain attempt to take my mind off the sensation, I shifted my focus to the banquet before us. The spread of food was meticulously tailored to the tastes of those closest to the newlyweds.

Across the table, Celestia was engaged in conversation with Twilight, though her attention frequently drifted to the towering slices of cake on her plate. Each forkful of cake disappeared with a level of efficiency that bordered on the comical, though no one dared to comment — likely out of reverence, or perhaps they knew better to get in the way of Celestia’s great cake exodus.

Luna noticed my amused look and leaned in once more, her voice tinged with mischief. “Careful, my moonlight. She may be my sister, but even I would think twice before coming between her and her desserts.”

I chuckled, grabbing a moon cake from the small tray beside us and holding it out to her. “Good thing I enjoy the superior desert.”

She accepted the treat with a sly smile, her hoof brushing against my hand as she took it. “Wise as ever.”

We shared the moon cake in comfortable silence, the chocolate filling and flaky crust were a simple pleasure amidst the grandeur of the reception. It wasn’t lost on me how much Cadance and Shining had gone out of their way to include touches like this — little gestures that made the extravagant nature of the event feel far more personal and down to earth than it had any right to be.

From across the room, Shining caught my eye, lifting his glass in a subtle salute. I mirrored the gesture with a slight nod before turning my attention back to Luna.

The music shifted, transitioning into a tune that felt similar to the one from our recent nights of practice. Luna’s ears perked, and her expression softened as she turned to me. “Sebastian,” she said, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the growing hum of music. “Would you care to join me on the dance floor?”

The question was simple, but it set my heart racing. I set my glass down, my gaze meeting hers as the familiar melody began to drift through the hall.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I said, offering her my hand.

Luna’s lips curled into a soft smile as she stepped closer. She placed her hoof lightly in my palm, a gesture less about practicality and more about the connection it represented. Together, we made our way toward the dance floor. With Luna at my side, the whirl of celebratory energy that infused the dance floor and its occupants felt far less overwhelming.

The music shifted, transitioning into a slow and elegant waltz. It struck me then, this was the very same song from our first night of practice. The rhythm was familiar and comforting after so many recent hours of nightly dances. As we reached the center of the floor, the other couples graciously stepped aside, their curious gazes lingering but respectful.

Luna turned to face me, her eyes meeting mine with a warmth that seemed to banish the world around us. Even now it surprised me just how much of a hold she had on me with just a simple look.

Those eyes that promised me that she loved me. Those eyes that promised me that I was normal. Those eyes that promised me that everything was going to be alright.

A smile I didn’t even realize I had, widened as I placed my left hand on her shoulder. Her hoof rested gently at my waist, the contact as natural now as breathing.

The first notes of the melody swelled, and we began to move.

Her steps were as fluid in dance as they were in sparring. She led the dance with the grace of someone who had danced beneath the stars far longer than I. I followed her lead, the movements halfway to instinctive now after so many nights spent under her patient tutelage. My feet slid forward in time with her hooves, our motions synchronized as though we shared the same heartbeat.

"See?" she murmured, her voice low enough for only me to hear. "You are a decent dancer after all."

I smirked as I met her gaze. "Only because my teacher refuses to accept failure."

Her laugh was soft, a private melody meant just for me. "And you would do well to remember it."

The room around us seemed to fade, the vibrant colors and muted conversations dissolving into the periphery. All that remained was the music, her steady presence, and the rhythm we forged together. The other dancers rejoined us, their movements forming a flowing current around our shared center, but it was as if we danced on a separate plane of existence altogether.

Luna’s mane shimmered with starlight as it trailed behind her, the motion mirroring the sweep of her steps. I adjusted my pace to match hers. My hand was firm on her shoulder, guiding with a level of confidence that should’ve surprised me, but it all felt so natural now. She smiled, her approval clear in the slight nod she gave as we slid smoothly into a turn.

The dance wasn’t without its challenges — my foot occasionally drifted too far or a step landed a fraction off-beat — but each time, Luna corrected me with an effortlessness that made the stumbles feel inconsequential. As it turns out: a few hours over a few nights of practice does not turn you into an amazing dancer.

"You have greatly improved," she whispered as we executed another turn, her voice carrying a quiet pride that warmed my heart.

"Couldn’t let my Luna down, now could I?"

The term of endearment made her eyes sparkle. "No, you could not."

As the music swelled toward its crescendo, I once again found myself caught in the depth of her eyes, their cyan hues shimmering like a quiet sea under the light of the moon. It was strange what my mind registered in moments like these: the rhythm of the waltz, the nearly silent sounds of her breathing, and the faintest rustling of her wings as they shifted with our dance.

Words slipped from me, and came without thought. “You’ve made me love this.”

Her mouth curved into the kind of smile that made my heart ache in the most wonderful way. “And you have made me love it anew.”

The final note lingered before the music was entirely drowned out by a chorus of applause from the gathered guests. Luna leaned in, her lips brushing softly against mine in a kiss that was soft, unhurried, and as natural as the night sky she commanded. The taste of moon cake and fruity red wine lingered as she pulled back, her smile holding the key to my heart.

"Thank you, Sebastian," she said, her voice as gentle as the night. "For trusting me."

The applause ebbed into a murmur as the next song began, a far softer melody that invited the couples lingering on the dance floor to stay. Luna’s hoof remained at my waist, her touch might as well had been upon my heart. My hand was still on her shoulder, and I let myself savor the moment before we moved again, the faint scent of lavender and night air that always seemed to follow her filling the space between us.

“Trusting you was the easy part,” I said with words meant only for her. “You’re the reason I’m here at all.”

She tilted her head slightly, her mane cascading like a river of stars down her neck. “And do you regret it?”

I let out a soft laugh as I guided us into the gentle rhythm of the new song. “Not a chance. If anything, I should thank you.”

Her brow arched, a silent prompt for me to continue.

“You’ve made me forget.” I paused, searching for the words that didn’t feel like they could ever do justice to what I felt. “Forget that I’m not… normal. Out here, with you, it’s like none of it matters. Not the scars, not what’s missing — just this. Just us.”

Luna’s eyes softened, and her hoof slid from my waist to rest lightly over my heart. Her voice, when it came, was quiet but unyielding in its resolve. “You are normal, Sebastian.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but her hoof pressed just slightly firmer against my chest, effectively silencing me.

“You are normal,” she repeated, her tone resolute. “In every way that matters. Do not let anyone, not even yourself, convince you otherwise.”

The lump in my throat made speaking impossible, so I nodded instead. Her gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer before her lips curved into a small smile.

“And besides,” she added with a playful glint in her eyes, “it would take far more than your so-called imperfections to diminish my consort’s presence on the dance floor.”

Her playful teasing drew an unexpected laugh from me as we transitioned effortlessly into the next step, the rhythm of the music guiding us like waves lifting a ship. The world around us blurred into irrelevance; if there were eyes on us, they no longer were a concern of mine.

In this fleeting moment, there was only Luna — the gentle warmth in her voice, the spark of love in her eyes, and the sense that she alone could piece together what felt broken and lost within me.

At least, for as long as the moment lasted.

Now, if only this moment could last forever.

Date

Luna and I have gone on what some may argue to be ‘dates’.

And while the time together during those ‘dates’ were well spent, and every second of those moments were invaluable. None of them were true, pure dates. In the sense that something else always served as some sort of cover for the time we spent together, as if we needed a ‘legitimate’ reason to spend time together besides the desire to simply spend time together.

Whether it be undergoing a dreamwalk, or sparring, or holding Night Court before anyone even showed for it, or the various numerous studies through both literature, magic, and constellations. It mattered not, we used those duties as excuses to steal moments of time.

Not this time.

No, this time it was to be a true date. No excuses or duties to hide behind — just us. I should be delighted, and downright excited. Instead, I was nervous.

The private room was perfect. Noctra had outdone herself. The dim lighting, the heavy curtains, and the simple but elegant thestral décor reminded me of Luna’s chambers with its deep blue tapestries and numerous lunar motifs. The restaurant owners had clearly taken great care to make their establishment feel special. Going as far as to reserve an entire room meant for large parties for this simple date while closing the rest of the establishment for the remainder of the night. Only Luna and I were to be served.

It was illogical to be anxious, and yet I was. Hells! I’m her consort. Luna and I have spent many days and nights together — shared moments of vulnerability and passion that forever entwined our hearts. We have already confessed and shared our love, and more!

But instead of appreciating the atmosphere, or eagerly awaiting Luna’s arrival, I was pacing. Pacing, and steadily growing closer to losing my nerve.

My boots scuffed softly against the polished stone floor as I marched back and forth, all the while I ran my hand through my hair over and over again in frustration. What was I even worried about? It wasn’t as though I’d never been alone with Luna before. We’d shared her bed for months, spent countless hours together in the quiet of her chambers or amongst mountains of texts or under her night sky. I’d even survived dancing with her in front of hundreds of ponies at Cadance and Shining Armor’s wedding.

And yet this somehow felt different.

“You’re going to wear a trench into the floor at this rate,” Noctra’s voice broke through my thoughts, dry and thoroughly amused.

I stopped mid-step, and turned to see her leaning casually against the doorframe. She looked relaxed, but the glint in her amber eyes told me she wasn’t here to let me pace about in peace.

“Noctra,” I exhaled heavily. “I don’t need an audience for this.”

“You don’t need to be pacing like a colt on his first date either,” she retorted, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “What’s the problem, Sebastian?”

“Problem?” I repeated before throwing my hand up in exasperation. “There’s no problem. I’m just... thinking.”

“Uh-huh.” She walked over to me, her wings twitching slightly as she looked me up and down. “Let me guess. You’re overthinking this because you’re convinced it has to be perfect.”

I gave her a flat look. “Would you like to read my mind while you’re at it?”

She smirked. “No need. You’re an open book.”

Crossing my arms, I mentally pushed back the creeping anxiety. “This isn’t just any date, Noctra. It’s our first real date. No distractions. Nothing but... us. I don’t want it to go bad. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“And you won’t,” she said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know why?”

“I won’t waste our time by pretending you won’t tell me anyways, so go ahead and enlighten me,” I muttered.

“Because you know Luna,” she said, her tone softening. “And she knows you. This isn’t some noble mare expecting you to impress her with titles and politics. This is Princess Luna, your Luna. The one who let you preen her wings, who stitched you up after a hydra tried to kill you, and who picked you as her consort. Do you think she’s sitting in her chambers right now worrying about whether you’ll order the right wine?”

I couldn’t help but snort at that. “No. She’s probably making a list of ways to avoid the noble sycophants for the next Night Court.”

“Exactly.” Noctra’s grin widened, a hint of fang showing. “She doesn’t care about perfection, Sebastian. She cares about you. So stop pacing, and start focusing on what matters: giving her an evening to remember.”

Her words hit home. I let out a slow breath as I nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I usually am,” she said lightly, stepping back toward the door. “And remember: this isn’t Night Court or some political game. It’s just you and Luna. Be yourself, and you’ll do just fine.”

“Thanks, Noctra,” I said while gesturing towards the room. “For all this.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused at the door, her expression taking on a look of softness that looked almost entirely foreign on her. “You’re good for her, you know. Don’t forget that.”

Before I could reply, she slipped out, leaving me alone.

Alone, that is, until the door to the main hall opened and a vision of midnight blue elegance stepped inside.

Luna.

And suddenly, everything felt right.

Luna’s presence filled the room in a way that defied logic, as though the air itself bent to her will. She paused in the doorway as her gaze met mine. I momentarily forgot how to breathe as my eye took her in.

Her mane was braided.

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind in the span of a heartbeat. As of late I have seen Luna without the ethereal’s touch upon her mane, but never before I had I seen it braided so. Its deep midnight hue caught the soft candlelight and turned it into an inky cascade of silk. I could not help but to trace the pattern of the braid with my eye. From the top of her head, down to where it tantalizingly rested against her neck. The simplicity of it felt intimate in nature, as though it was a revelation she had chosen to share with me alone.

Then there was the dress.

I had never seen her in a dress before. She had not worn one at the Gala, or at the wedding. The dress had a high slit that revealed the graceful curve of her leg as she moved. The slit shone a flash of her fur that caught the light in a way that felt equal amounts regal, and alluring. Midnight fabric hugged her form. The dress flowing as if stitched from the night sky itself, its simplicity only serving to highlight her natural beauty. She had forgone the silver shoes, crown, and peytral she usually wore, leaving herself bare except for the soft glow of her coat and of course, the dress.

She didn’t need embellishments to command presence; she was presence.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice warm and soft as her gaze met mine. There was something in her eyes — the usual glimmer of affection, yes, but also expectation, as though she was searching for my reaction.

I stood frozen for a moment, my single hand flexing by my side as if to gather my scattered thoughts into some form of coherence. "Luna," I finally managed, my voice coming out a bit rougher than intended. I cleared my throat and added, "You look… beautiful."

A faint blush colored her cheeks, and her lips curved in a small, but no less genuine smile. “Your words flatter me,” her tone was light and with an unmistakable note of pleasure. Her gaze swept over me then, lingering on the tailored outfit I’d chosen for the evening — a simple dark suit, elegant but not ostentatious. “And you, my moonlight, look most dashing.”

I tried to play it off with a modest shrug, but the compliment sent a warmth through me that I couldn’t quite hide. “I figured if you’re going to put all of Equestria’s nobility to shame tonight, the least I could do was try to keep up.”

Her laughter was soft and melodic, and filled the room like a song only I was meant to hear. “If I recall, it was Noctra who orchestrated this evening’s setting,” she teased, glancing around the room.

The restaurant was perfect, just as Noctra had promised. The reserved space exuded a quiet sort of sophistication, with its dark wood paneling, soft candle lighting, and faint hints of various spices and fruit lingering in the air. A single table awaited us in the center, adorned with a simple centerpiece of silver candles and wildflowers native to Hollow Shades. The atmosphere felt private yet welcoming, as though the entire establishment had been designed solely for this moment.

“She did,” I admitted. “And I’m glad she did.” I paused to admire her. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

Luna stepped closer, her expression softening. “It already is.”

The distance between us vanished as she took my hand in her hoof, guiding me toward the table. Her touch was cool and steady, grounding me in the moment as we approached the seats arranged for us. She didn’t sit right away, instead looking up at me with a quiet intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For this. For everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” I replied without hesitation, and it was the absolute truth. She seemed to sense that, her smile deepening as she finally took her seat.

After seating Luna, I moved to sit across from her, but she held up a hoof to stop me. “No,” she said gently, motioning to the empty space beside her. “Tonight is for us, not for distance.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I moved the chair so as to be seated next to her, and felt the last remnants of my doubts disappear. This wasn’t Night Court or some field of battle. It wasn’t a political gathering or a mission.

It was just us.

Before I could speak again, the soft sound of hoofsteps approached, and a single thestral waiter entered the room. He was young, his coat a dark gray and his wings neatly folded at his sides. Bowing slightly, he smiled and spoke, “Good evening, your Highness. Consort. I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”

He gestured toward the table with a practiced elegance. “Shall we start with drinks?”

I glanced at Luna, and recalled Noctra’s advice. If this was about us — if this was about her — then I wanted to do this right. Leaning slightly toward her, I offered a small smile. “Why don’t you choose?”

Her eyes met mine with a faint gleam of approval as the corners of her lips curved upward. She turned to the waiter with a graceful tilt of her head. “We shall begin with fig wine,” she answered, “and for the meal: tonight’s specialty.”

The waiter nodded, his expression professional but his wings shifting slightly in what I suspected was approval. “An excellent choice, your Highness. I’ll bring the wine momentarily and allow you time to enjoy one another’s company while the meal is prepared.” With a respectful bow, he retreated, leaving us alone once more.

I turned back to Luna, only to find her already watching me with a soft intensity. The braided mane, the dress, the warmth in her gaze — it all felt like a dream I wasn’t entirely sure I deserved to be living. “You look incredible tonight,” the words slipped out without so much as a thought.

The approval in her expression deepened, but there was a flicker of something else — something darker, and far more enticing — in her smile. “I am glad you think so, my moonlight,” she murmured, her tone almost playful. “You’ve hardly taken your eye off me since I arrived.”

I didn’t even try to deny it. “Can you blame me?” I gestured vaguely toward her, unable to help the wry grin tugging at my lips. “You’re gorgeous.”

She tilted her head, letting the braid fall over one shoulder, and I couldn’t help but follow the movement. “It is not often I have such a reason to,” she replied, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver of delight down my spine. “This evening is important to me, Sebastian. You are important to me.”

The weight of her words settled over me, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Then, slowly, I reached across the small distance between us and brushed my fingers along the edge of her hoof. “You’ve made that very clear tonight,” I said softly, meeting her gaze. “I’ll try to do the same.”

Her smile softened, but the flicker of mischief remained. “Good,” she said, leaning slightly closer. “Because I quite enjoy seeing how I affect you.”

The way her voice dipped with that last word sent my blood pumping. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my composure. “You don’t exactly make it subtle.”

Her laugh was quiet, rich, and undeniably pleased. “Nor do I intend to.” She shifted slightly, the slit of her dress parting just enough to reveal the smooth curve of her hind leg beneath. My gaze flickered down before I could stop myself, and when I met her eyes again, her smirk had only grown.

“You’re cruel,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt. “We only just sat down.”

“I am generous,” she countered as she brushed her hoof along my arm. “After all, I aim to give you something to remember this evening by.”

“Something tells me I won’t forget it anytime soon,” I said, my words were far rougher than I intended.

Her expression softened, though the edge of teasing remained. “Good,” she said again, her tone quieter now.

Before either of us could speak further, the waiter returned with a bottle of dark, amber-tinted wine. He set two glasses before us with practiced ease, pouring just enough to swirl at the bottom of each. “Your fig wine, as requested,” he said with a bow. “I’ll leave you for now. Please, take your time.”

With that, he retreated once more, leaving the two of us with nothing but the faint candlelight and the quiet hum of the world beyond the walls.

I lifted my glass, letting the earthy, subtly sweet aroma waft toward me before taking a sip. It was smooth and a bit richer than I expected, and paired perfectly with the warmth of her presence beside me. But then again, her presence paired perfectly with everything.

Luna sipped hers as well, her eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. When she set it down, her smile returned. But this time her smile was more intimate. “So tell me, my love. What are you thinking right now?”

I leaned in slightly, lowering my glass. “That I’m not sure what’s more intoxicating,” I said, holding her gaze. “The wine or you.”

The way her breath hitched — just barely — was worth every ounce of boldness it took to say the words. Her smile turned wicked, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Then perhaps I should give you more of both,” she murmured.

Her words lingered in the air, drawing the moment out, and I found myself unable to pull my gaze away. The way she leaned in, the subtle curve of her lips, the warmth in her eyes — she was playing with me, teasing me in a way that had my pulse quickening. I could feel the heat between us rise with each passing second, and it made every other thought fade away.

“You certainly have a way of keeping my attention,” I said, my voice low and steady despite the grip of desire firmly planted in my chest.

Her eyes never left mine, the hint of a challenge in her smile. “I only want you to focus on me tonight,” she purred, her voice a soft, melodic sound that made the rest of the world seem distant.

There was something in the air — something that tugged at me, urging me to move closer, to lean in and cross that invisible line. But I resisted. Instead, I let my eyes trail over her — lingering on the fabric of her dress. The way it clung to her and how the slit revealed just enough to make my mind race nowhere and everywhere. It fascinated me how Luna in a dress was somehow more alluring than in her regalia or even nude.

I caught her watching me with a playful glint in her eyes, as if daring me to keep going.

“You’re very bold tonight,” I said with a smirk, leaning in just enough for my breath to barely touch her ear. “Do you enjoy being this tempting?”

Her laugh was quiet, but it reached deep into me, making my chest tighten with anticipation. “Tempting?” she repeated softly, her voice laced with something darker, and far more sensual. “Perhaps I just enjoy seeing how much control you’ll surrender to me.”

The words sparked something inside me, and I found myself leaning closer, captivated by the way her presence seemed to overwhelm my senses. Her scent, the way her mane framed her face tonight, and the softness in her voice — it all made it impossible to ignore how much I wanted her.

“You know, I’m not one to surrender easily,” I said, my voice quieter now, the playful teasing giving way to something more serious.

Her eyes darkened just a fraction. “I think you’ll find, Sebastian,” she murmured, her lips just barely brushing the side of my neck, “that with me, surrendering might be the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done.”

I felt the heat flood my body at her words, and for a moment, I could barely think past the rush of desire building between us. But just as I was about to close the distance, the waiter returned, and broke the spell.

He set the bowl of hearty chestnut and wild mushroom stew down in front of us, the rich aroma wafting up, cutting through the tension. It was served with two smaller bowls and a basket of freshly baked dark rye bread.

Luna’s eyes flickered to the meal, her attention shifting momentarily from our flirtation to the food. Still, there was something unmistakable in her gaze as she glanced back at me — something that promised that this was far from over.

I picked up the large bowl, the steam from the stew curling around me, and looked at Luna, smiling softly. “I suppose we should eat before the evening becomes too intense,” I said, not entirely sure I believed my own words at that moment.

Her grin deepened, her eyes now playful but still full of that magnetic pull. “We can always pick up where we left off afterward,” she teased, the hint of challenge still in her voice.

Without waiting for her to speak further, I heeded Noctra’s advice, and served her first. I reached for the smaller bowl with my magic and began ladling the stew into it. While my magic was calm and orderly, my thoughts were anything but. I set the bowl down in front of her, taking in the way the soft glow of the candlelight made her dress shimmer just slightly as she reached for her spoon with her own magic.

“This looks incredible,” she said, her voice filled with quiet appreciation as she picked up her spoon. The way she leaned in to take a bite had me captivated all over again, the delicate motion of her lips betraying the pleasure she took in something so simple, but still so intimate. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

“I’m glad,” I said while taking my own spoon to taste the stew. It was rich and earthy, the roasted chestnuts adding a subtle sweetness that balanced the hearty mushrooms. The stew’s warmth spread through me, although I didn’t need it, given Luna’s proximity.

Her shoulder brushed against mine as she leaned closer to the table, her mane shifting slightly with the motion. The braid was intricate, and stark contrast to the flowing etherealness I had come to associate with her. It suited her in ways I hadn’t imagined.

“Your hair looks beautiful tonight,” I murmured, taking heart in Noctra’s advice to hold nothing back.

She turned to me, her smile softening into something more tender. “Do you like it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

I nodded, letting my gaze linger. “I’ve never seen it like this before. It suits you.”

Her cheeks flushed faintly, the sight making my heart warm further. “My sister insisted on braiding it,” she admitted. “She said it would… ‘enhance’ the evening.”

I raised an eyebrow, very much surprised. “Celestia braided your hair?”

“Indeed,” she said with a quiet laugh. “I didn’t realize she had such a skill. But it seems she was right — it has your attention.”

I chuckled, taking another bite of stew. “She knows what she’s doing. But I think my attention was yours long before the braid.”

Her eyes met mine again, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt heavier now, charged with something that had been building steadily all evening.

We finished the stew in comfortable silence, the meal nearly as satisfying as the company. The dark rye bread was warm and soft, perfect for soaking up the last of the broth. When the bowls were empty, Luna leaned back slightly, her wine glass levitating to her lips.

“You’re quite fond of thestral cuisine I see,” she said as she watched me over the rim of her glass.

“I blame you for that,” I said with a smirk. “You have excellent taste.”

She laughed softly at that, and placed her hoof lightly on my thigh. “And here you are flattering me again.”

“And once again, it’s not flattery if it’s true,” I countered, my voice dropping slightly at her touch.

The way her gaze darkened told me she noticed. She set her glass down, her magic emptying the remainder of the bottle into our glasses. “Then tell me, my consort,” she said, her voice as smooth as the wine we were drinking. “What truths do you wish to share tonight?”

I leaned closer, my lips almost brushing her ear as I whispered, “That you’re the most beautiful mare I’ve ever seen, and that dress is making it very hard to focus on anything else.”

Her sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through me. She turned her head just enough that her lips were dangerously close to mine. “Good,” she whispered back, her eyes half-lidded. “Because I wore it with the intention of distracting you.”

It was impossible not to smile at that, though it felt more akin to a predatory grin. “Then consider me thoroughly distracted.”

Her hoof slid higher on my thigh, her touch firm yet teasing. “Only distracted?”

“Tempted,” I corrected, my voice huskier now. “Very, very tempted.”

The last of the wine disappeared from my glass, and I set it down with deliberate slowness. Luna followed suit, her gaze never wavering from mine.

Her horn glowed briefly, and a large purse of bits appeared on the table. She dropped it there without any ceremony or care for overpayment, her focus entirely on me. “Take me back to our room,” she said, her voice velvet and steel. “Now.”

A stray thought snuck through my mind — that purse probably holds more bits than this place earns in a week. I shoved the stray thought aside, and focused my mind on our room. With a whispered incantation, my magic surged, and the room around us dissolved in a cascade of light.

In an instant, we were home, standing at the edge of our bed. The crackling hearth painted the room in rippling shadows, and the flicker of firelight turned her dress into molten gold. She eased herself down onto the mattress with fluid elegance. Luna’s eyes locked to mine with an intensity that made me forget every problem that ever had, or ever could exist.

Luna stretched languidly across the sheets, her movements deliberate and graceful, each shift of her body calculated to draw me in. The fire gilded her fur and mane, her movements slow enough to savor as her braid tumbled over her shoulder in a silken wave. The high slit in her gown fell just so, parting just enough to tease the curve of her flank as she moved. Her gaze smoldered, filled with heat, challenge, and promising things no words could half-way convey.

“Come closer, my moonlight,” she purred, her voice a velvet leash that was impossible to resist.

I moved as though guided by something beyond her words, my suit slipping from me with a grace I didn’t recognize, and didn’t need to. Now bare, I knelt behind her on the bed, my gaze following the line of her dress as my hand traced its path. My fingers brushed the fur peeking through the parted slit, and she gasped softly — a sound so delicate, so breathless, that it set something deep within me alight.

That sound was intoxicating. Divine. A melody so pure that I knew for certain that I could never tire of hearing it, that I could never stop craving the way her body stirred beneath my touch.

“The braid,” I murmured, fingers brushing the intricate weave draped over her shoulder. The style was new — elegant, refined, and challenging me to unravel it.

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt.

I tightened my grip just enough to draw a quiet moan from her lips as I gave the braid a gentle tug. “It’s beautiful,” I admitted, leaning closer to brush my lips against the sensitive base of her neck. “But I think I’ll enjoy undoing it more.”

Her soft laugh turned into a sharp inhale as my hand drifted lower, pulling the slit of her dress further apart. Half-concealed in the firelight’s glow, she was beauty and power wrapped in silk. It was almost too much to bear, seeing her so poised, so ready, and yet still teasingly withheld.

“Sebastian…” she whispered, her voice tremulous with anticipation.

I moved closer, positioning myself directly behind her. With deliberate care, I spread the slit of her dress further, the slit of her dress now open enough for my hand to explore her flanks fully. My fingers caressed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and the shiver that rippled through her sent a matching tremor through me.

Her breath caught. Her fur darkened beneath my touch. Slowly, seamlessly, her pupils narrowed into slits — a subtle transformation that blurred the line between Luna, the princess, and something far more primal.

“Do not tease,” she growled, her tone low and commanding, sending a pulse of heat through me.

Her hips pressed back against mine, the movement deliberate, and very much impatient. So, I teased further. My fingers grazed higher, trailing along the soft curve of her flank before tracing, and then dipping a single finger into her pussy. Her moan broke free — raw, unfiltered, and utterly perfect — a sound that tangled around my thoughts and refused to ever let go. Her tail flicked aside in provocation, a motion that fully revealed herself to me.

It was an invitation I couldn’t resist. I guided myself forward, the heat of her beckoning as my cock kissed her entrance. She drew in a sharp breath, and her body tensed as I pushed in slowly, fully.

The sensation of her — hot, silken, and impossibly tight — overwhelmed every sense I had. A sound escaped me that sounded somewhere between a sigh, and a moan. Luna gasped, her wings briefly flared wide with a suddenness that caught the firelight, each feather illuminated in a way that left me breathless.

"Deeper," she demanded as her wings snapped shut, her voice thick with unrestrained need and trembling on the edge of desperation.

My hand tightened on her hips as I obeyed, pressing deeper, filling her inch by inch. Her body yielded, her pussy stretching to take me fully. The guttural growl that tore from her throat as I filled her completely was raw and electric, a sound that seared itself into my mind.

“Sebastian…” she gasped, her voice breaking on my name as I began to move.

My pace was slow and deliberate at first. I savored the exquisite way our bodies connected, the way her body shuddered with each motion. Every thrust felt like a revelation, the way her muscles clenched around me, the way her breath hitched and escaped in broken sighs. But Luna was not one for patience. She bucked her hips, her braid swinging wildly as I caught it in my hand.

Her response was immediate — a sharp cry that melted into a low throaty moan. “More,” she demanded, her voice an intoxicating blend of command and plea, a siren’s call in the form of a singular word.

I obliged, pulling the braid taut as my rhythm quickened. Her body met mine in a wild symphony of motion, her movements fierce and insistent. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through us both. Her moans grew louder, dissolving and blending into a melody of incoherent sounds and raw ecstasy.

Her fur darkened under the firelight, her growls deepened, and her fangs flashed with each deep breath. She was fully letting go, embracing the side of herself that was wild, primal, and utterly captivating. Her untamed passion fed into and fueled my own.

“You’re mine,” she growled, her voice raw, her claim as undeniable as the heat burning between us.

"Always," I answered, my voice rough and heavy with desire. My fingers tightened around her braid as I pulled her closer, driving deeper into her. Her cry filled the room, sharp and urgent, echoing back to me in waves that set my nerves alight.

The firelight bathed her in flickering shadows and golden hues, painting her sweat-slicked body in an otherworldly glow. Her hips moved with a fervor that left no room for restraint, grinding against me with a wild, untamed rhythm that drew me ever closer towards climax. She was intoxicating — a creature of raw passion and unrelenting beauty, her movements demanding my every ounce of attention.

The room was alive with the sounds of her pleasure — moans and growls that found a way to grow sharper and more primal with each passing moment. Every sound she made, every shift of her body, was a call I couldn’t resist.

Her braid, now half-undone from my earlier pulls, swung in time with her movements. It brushed against her shoulder as her cries became more guttural, her voice dropping into a tone that sent shivers through me. She growled my name, each syllable laced with equal parts demand and need, and I answered her with every thrust and every touch.

The night felt infinite, the world beyond us forgotten as I gave myself over to her entirely. Luna was everything in that moment — a force of nature, a storm, and the moonlight guiding me through it. Her unrelenting passion consumed me, and I surrendered willingly, lost in her embrace.

“More, Sebastian,” she commanded, her voice threaded with authority, though it faltered with the edges of a moan.

I tightened my hold on her braid, pulling her head back just enough to expose the graceful line of her neck. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips was music to my ears, accompanied by a dramatic flare of her wings. Their span, majestic and quivering in the firelight, was a sight so breathtaking it nearly pushed me into an early climax. Leaning forward, I let my lips graze the sensitive curve of her neck before biting down gently where it met her shoulder.

Her response was visceral. She bucked against me, her hips driving back with an intensity that matched her growl. Her fangs glinted dangerously in the flickering light. “Yesss,” she hissed, her approval dripping from every syllable.

I gave her everything. My pace quickened, raw and unrelenting, as I slipped my left arm around her neck. The leverage was perfect. The position granting me new leverage to pull her closer, her body arching into me as I fucked her deeper still. The heat of her body, the way she tightened around me, was an intoxicating blend of pleasure and power that pushed me well past reason and towards climax.

“Mine,” she growled, her voice feral, claiming me in a way that left no room for doubts.

“Yours,” I answered, the word torn from me in a voice hoarse with lust, just as her trembling began.

Her body stiffened, her breath hitching as her moan swelled into a crescendo. The pulsing grip of her pussy around my cock sent a cascade of raw sensation through every nerve, dragging me into my climax with a force that stole all semblance of thought. Like a prayer, I groaned her name. My voice ragged and unrestrained, as I tightened my arm around her neck and pulled her flush against me. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but her — her heat, her trembling form, and the sheer intensity of our shared climax.

Time seemed to fracture, the moment stretching endlessly, filled only with our shared euphoria. Slowly, her wings lowered, their trembling stillness folding against her back as the tension melted from her frame. I released her, my arm falling to my side, and she slumped forward onto our bed. Her breaths came in quick, shallow bursts.

I eased my cock from her, the loss of her heat strikingly sharp as I collapsed beside her. She rolled onto her side to face me, her fur glistening with the sheen of exertion. Her eyes, sharp and slitted moments ago, began to soften, and their fierce glow gave way to something gentler. A satisfied smile curved her lips, her fangs still visible but less pronounced in the flickering light.

Reaching out, I brushed some stray locks of her mane that had escaped her braid from obscuring her face, my fingers lingering on her damp cheek. “You’re incredible,” I murmured, my voice still rough with the haze of bliss.

Her smile deepened as she shifted closer, her body molding effortlessly against mine. “As are you, my moonlight,” she murmured, her voice a purr of languid satisfaction.

She placed her hoof over my chest, lightly tracing the scar above my heart as her muzzle found its way to the crook of my neck. Her touch, gentle yet firm, soothed the lingering wildness within me. I matched her gesture, placing my hand over the scar on her chest. Beneath my palm, her heart’s rapid rhythm began to slow, matching the calm that was beginning to overtake us. With a quick application of unicorn telekinesis, I drew the blanket over us, her contented sigh filling me with warmth even as the sweat cooled on my skin.

For a long moment, we remained there, basking in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath. Her mane had come completely undone, spilling over the pillows in a cascade of silken strands. I smiled at the sight, marveling at her beauty, and she caught my gaze. Leaning in, she kissed me, her lips soft and lingering, her fangs brushing teasingly against my own.

“Rest now,” she whispered, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. “This night is ours, and there’s no need to rush.”

I held her close, the fire’s faint glow painting our chamber in soft hues. Beyond these walls, nothing mattered — not time, not the world, only the distilled perfection of this moment.

In the tangle of our bed, the weight of reality fell away, leaving only love and the faint echo of passion. Exhaling, I let the truth spill from my lips. “I love you.”

Her lips curved into a smile against my neck, her reply like the softest of caresses. “I love you too.”

Her voice, her presence, her being — Luna was all that ever was, all that ever mattered, all I’d ever need.

It had been a perfect date.

Rearmed

It had been a couple of months since Chrysalis' attempted invasion — a couple of months since everything changed.

Since I ascended. Since I lost so much.

In the aftermath of the invasion I wasn’t sure what to think, or even what to feel. The pain and hatred borne from those few hours had been overwhelming. And for a time, I wondered if it would ever ease. But it did. Slowly, surely, it all grew better.

Not by chance. Not by luck. I knew exactly how it had all gotten better.

Celestia. Noctra. Shining Armor and Cadance. And, most of all, Luna. Each of them had been there for me in their own way. Whether it was through their words, their actions, or their mere presence, they carried me when I didn’t think I could stand.

To be honest, I’m still not past all of it. Some wounds take longer to heal, and some never will, but I’m no longer drowning in all of it. I felt… lighter, almost. I could see the future again, instead of just forcing myself to believe one existed. They helped me rediscover that future, clearing away the sorrow and grief that had blinded my vision.

I will never be able to repay the debt I owe them, but I must try.

Try to be better. Try to keep moving forward. Try to keep living.

This next step on my path was a crucial one. A one-armed man is at a disadvantage — a truth as cruel as it is unavoidable. But disadvantages can be overcome, even turned into potential strengths. That path begins here, at the desk in the chambers Luna and I now shared.

The curse of Decay plagued everything I attempted to use as a replacement for my right arm. A malediction forged from pure negative energy, it was a remnant of Meridin’s passing, an unintentional parting gift as his death pulled a fragment of my soul into oblivion.

When I first attempted to attach a prosthetic a few days ago, the result had been disastrous. The limb withered and crumbled, consumed by the creeping black light of the Decay. Its corrosive touch dissolved the arm as if it had aged a century in mere minutes. The sight drove home the reality of my cursed ascension and one of the challenges it posed to every attempt I made at fixing what was stolen.

My desk was cluttered with tools, sketches, and prosthetics — each one a step closer to a solution to my missing arm. Moonlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting pale beams across the desk’s polished wooden surface, while the fire behind me added a golden glow to the shadows. The contrast reminded me of Luna’s eyes, a thought that brought a small smile to my face before I refocused on the task at hand.

Before me laid several prosthetic arms of varying materials: wood, brass, leather, and silversheen. Each was simple in design, more focused on function than form. They weren’t meant to last long — none of them were — but I needed data to move forward.

I reached for the wooden prosthetic first, a lightweight construct made from willow and pine. The straps were simple enough to fasten with one hand, though I’d had to rely on some unicorn magic to expedite the process. Once secured, I flexed the stump of my arm, feeling the faintest connection as the wood responded. It was rudimentary, clunky, and awkward, but it worked — for now.

I watched closely as the black light of Decay began to seep from the seams where the prosthetic met my flesh. The effect was almost hypnotic: a cold, unnatural glow that felt as though it were draining the very life from the room. The wooden arm began to stiffen, its surface cracking as if frost were forming in the grain.

“Three minutes,” I muttered to myself, jotting down the time in my notes before unstrapping the prosthetic and setting it aside.

The next was brass — a heavier option, but sturdier than the wood. The straps clicked into place with a metallic snap, and I gave it a cautious test, moving the joints in small, deliberate motions. It felt better, though still unnatural, the weight requiring more effort to control.

Decay started almost immediately, the black light radiating outward as if seeking purchase in the metal. Unlike the wood, which had cracked and splintered, the brass tarnished rapidly, darkening to a dull, sickly green. Within five minutes, the joints seized, rendering it useless.

“Better, but not by much.” I removed the brass arm, noting the results.

The leather prototype fared the worst. Its organic material made it a prime target for the Decay, and within seconds, the black light had reduced it to brittle, useless strips. It didn’t even make it to the one-minute mark.

Finally, I turned to the silversheen prosthetic. This one was the most promising on paper: durable, non-organic, and its was treated in Zebrat with a complex process of metallurgy and alchemy that turned its silver into a metal immune to rust and highly resistant to most environmental hazards. It was also the heaviest, requiring careful adjustments to balance and fit. The straps took longer to secure, but once it was in place, I flexed it experimentally, feeling a faint satisfaction as it responded smoothly.

For a moment, it seemed immune to Decay. Then, like clockwork, the black light began to spread, pooling in the joints and seams. The silversheen resisted longer than the others, the Decay working sluggishly against its dense structure.

“Seven minutes... eight...” I murmured as I watched the prosthetic begin to corrode, its polished surface turning dull and pitted. At just under ten minutes, it finally succumbed, the joints locking up as Decay rendered it inert.

I sighed, unstrapping the silversheen arm and setting it down. It was progress, but not enough.

My gaze fell back to my notes, the scratch of my pen filling the silence as I documented the results. Silversheen clearly lasted the longest, but it wasn’t indestructible. If I wanted a truly functional prosthetic, I needed something more.

Positive Pulse and Rapid Repair.

The two spells came to mind immediately. Positive Pulse to fill the prosthetic with Positive Energy, countering the effects of Decay. Rapid Repair to provide a continuous regeneration effect, repairing the damage as it occurred.

“If I can enchant the silversheen with those spells,” I mused, my fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the desk, “it should buy me time — maybe a few hours before I’d need to remove it and let it heal. I should also add a mechanism for quick attachment and removal. Practicality matters as much as function.”

The idea of an enchanted silversheen arm felt… hopeful. It wasn’t my real arm, but it was something. A step forward, however small.

I leaned back in my chair as I let my eye drift to the tall windows and the expanse of the night beyond. Beyond the windows, Luna’s sky stretched endlessly, stars glittering like so many shards of diamond scattered across a tapestry of night. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I sketched those familiar constellations with my eye.

The Tree of Harmony. The Navigator. The Dreamweaver.

Those constellations always seemed to brighten my night. Luna would approve. She would see the progress I had accomplished tonight, she would be proud. And I couldn’t wait to show her.

A sharp knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I frowned, glancing toward the heavy wooden door that separated our chambers from the castle below. Luna wouldn’t knock — she’d simply sweep in, her presence as natural here as my own. And Celestia, well… I doubted she’d visit tonight without Luna.

Whoever it was, I wasn’t expecting them.

Pushing back my chair, I rose and crossed the room, my bare feet making almost no sound on the chamber floor. My left hand rested briefly on the latch before I pulled the door open.

Standing there, dwarfed by the doorframe, was a thestral filly. Her coat was the color of storm-touched skies, her amber eyes glowing faintly in the dim hallway light. She looked up at me with a mixture of confidence and curiosity, her leathery wings tucked neatly at her sides. She almost appeared to be standing at attention.

“Sebastian,” she said simply, her voice was steady, but her eyes darted briefly to my missing arm. There was no hesitation, no pity, just a hint of curiosity before her gaze locked back onto mine.

“Mira,” I replied, thoroughly surprised. I hadn’t spoken to her since before Chrysalis’ invasion, though I’d seen her in passing. She’d been a blur of energy, darting between lessons or causing some form of minor chaos that left the castle staff scrambling in her wake. “This is… unexpected.”

She tilted her head, her small fangs flashing as she offered a faint smile. “Can I come in?”

I froze for a moment. My mind summoned forth memories of an alley and false visages. Memories that warned me from trusting anyone, or anything ever again.

But I could not live that way, not in fear. I had to take the risk, and ignore the paranoia that promised me a second death. I had to try to live.

“Of course.” I stepped quickly aside, letting her trot into the room.

Mira’s small hooves made soft clicks against the stone floor as she trotted in. She paused just past the threshold of the door, taking in the room with wide eyes. Her gaze lingered on the canopy bed, the desk strewn with prosthetic pieces, and finally the faintly billowing curtains. “Your room is… big,” she said, her voice holding a note of awe.

I chuckled softly. “Luna’s room, technically. She just shares it with me.”

She turned to face me, her wings shifting slightly. “Mother said I should give you time,” she began, her tone blunt but not unkind. “That you needed space to get better. But it’s been a while now, so I thought I’d check.”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my left arm over my chest. “Checking up on me, huh? That’s thoughtful of you.”

Mira nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Mother said you went through something really bad. And I know what that’s like. The forest monsters sometimes make really bad things happen.” Her words were matter-of-fact, not seeking sympathy or offering it, just stating a shared truth.

I blinked at that. Not entirely sure how to respond, I defaulted to a simple, “Thank you.”

She shifted her weight, glancing at the desk again. “I’m also here for another reason,” she said, her tone growing more serious. “I wanted to see if you’re ready.”

“Ready?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you ready yet?” she asked. “To take me on as your apprentice?”

For a moment I wasn’t sure how to respond. I had promised Mira months ago that I would teach her when I was ready, but I hadn’t expected everything to happen the way it did. Neither did I expect her to come knocking as she did. Then again, this was Mira. And children aren’t exactly renowned for their patience, however she waited for months before coming to my door to ask again. Now that I think about it, it’s more surprising that she didn’t break into my room like last time.

I sighed, running my hand through my hair as I took a seat across from her. “Mira, I—”

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” she interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “Mother told me about… everything. But I’m still here, and I’m still ready. I’ve memorized the castle, so I don’t get lost. I never miss class, just like Mother told me to. I can even—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I just… I want to help. Like you helped Mama. Like you help Princess Luna.”

Her words struck a chord, and I found myself smiling despite the weight of the conversation. She was so young, but her resolve was greater than that of most adults. It was impossible not to admire her for that.

I moved toward the desk, gesturing for her to follow. “Mira, are you busy for the rest of the night?”

Her ears perked up, and she shook her head quickly. “I’m not busy at all,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of excitement that she couldn’t hope to hide. “What are we doing?”

I sat at my desk, and glanced down at Mira. “We are starting your apprenticeship,” I said with a small smile. “Unless if you’ve changed your mind about wanting to learn magic.”

Mira froze. Her eyes widened and her ears twitched, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she was having some difficulty trying to process what I’d just said.

Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she launched into a dance. Her little bat wings flapped erratically, sending out tiny gusts of wind as she pranced in a tight circle. Her hooves tapped on the stone floor, echoing sharply through the chamber as she spun and twirled.

Her grin stretched so wide I thought it might outshine the moonlight streaming through the windows. The dance culminated in a triumphant leap toward me, her small frame colliding with my side as she threw her forelegs around my waist in an enthusiastic hug.

“You mean it? Really? I’m your apprentice now?” she asked, her voice muffled against my shirt.

I chuckled, steadying myself against the desk with my left hand. “Yes, Mira. I mean it. You’re officially my apprentice.”

She tightened her grip before pulling back, her excitement dimming just enough for her to realize what she’d done. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly stepped back, scuffing a hoof against the floor. “Uh… sorry about that,” she mumbled, her voice quieter. “I… might’ve overreacted a little.”

Her embarrassment only made the moment more endearing. I crouched down so I could meet her eyes and ruffled her mane lightly. “Overreact? Not at all. I’d say it was the perfect reaction.”

Her blush deepened, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks, Sebastian.”

“Don’t mention it.” I straightened up and gestured toward the desk. “Now, let’s get down to business. First lesson: how to read magic.”

Her ears perked up again, and she followed me to the desk with eager steps. I reached into my bag of holding, my fingers brushing past various items until they closed around a rolled-up scroll. Pulling it free, I unfurled it on the desk. The parchment was covered in neat, glowing runes and sigils, the arcane script of a Prestidigitation cantrip.

“This,” I began, pointing to the scroll, “is a cantrip called Prestidigitation. It’s the first spell many casters learn, and it’s perfect for teaching you the basics of reading magical text.”

Mira leaned in, her amber eyes scanning the runes with intense focus. “It’s all… squiggly,” she said after a moment, her brow furrowing. “How am I supposed to read that?”

I chuckled. “It looks that way now, but with practice, you’ll start to recognize patterns and it will start to make sense. Magic has its own language, and learning it is like learning to read any other language. The key is to take it one symbol at a time, and lots of practice.”

I spent the next several hours walking her through the basics, explaining the meaning of each rune and how they connected to form the spell. Mira was a quick learner, her curiosity and determination driving her to ask endless strings of questions. She even tried mimicking some of the gestures associated with the spell, her tiny wings fluttering as she concentrated.

Those subtle movements caught my eye. Though they seemed to be instinctive gestures made in her excitement, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, for a fleeting moment, she was on the verge of correctly beginning the process for casting Prestidigitation. It was an exciting glimpse of what she might be capable of, but tonight’s lesson wasn’t about spellcasting itself — as fun as that aspect of magic could be.

No, this was about laying the foundation, the core principles of the arcane. If Mira was ever going to reach her full potential, she needed to understand not just the ‘how’ of magic, but the ‘why.’

The hours slipped by unnoticed until a faint glow began to creep through the tall windows, heralding the approach of dawn. I was midway through explaining the importance of intention in spellcasting when I noticed Mira’s head drooping. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her breathing slowed as she succumbed to exhaustion.

I paused, a soft smile forming as I watched her. Carefully, I scooped up a nearby spare blanket with my left hand and draped it over her. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her features relaxing into peaceful slumber.

Leaning back in my chair, I gazed out the window at the rising sun, the light painting the room in soft hues. A sort of quiet contentment settled over me as I reflected on the night. Mira’s enthusiasm and determination reminded me of myself in the early days of my apprenticeship under Luna.

That was before… everything.

My smile faltered.

Aldin would’ve loved this. Gods… I wish he were here. He would’ve loved seeing Mira’s excitement, alongside my poor mentorship. I could practically hear his voice. Aldin would’ve hopped all over the desk, and made all sorts of witty comments while messing with the various scrolls and papers. A cocktail of negative emotions planted themselves in my gut, but I pushed those thoughts aside.

He wouldn’t have wanted me to sour this moment.

Instead of wallowing in the negativity, I focused on the positive, on the future. Mira had so much potential. So young and she was already showing signs of picking up the arcane.

The door opened without so much as a knock. I knew who it was before the door even fully opened. Luna. Only she would walk in without knocking. It was our room after all.

Luna stepped into our room, her presence soothing me in a way only she could. Her expression softened the moment she saw the scene before her. She paused just inside the doorway, her teal eyes narrowing slightly as they moved from Mira’s sleeping form to me.

Her voice, though quiet, held a teasing lilt. “Have I interrupted some grand conspiracy, my love? Or is this merely an adorable plot to steal you away?”

I rolled my eye and gave her a mock-exasperated look. “If it is, she’s playing the long game. I’ve been duped into taking her on as an apprentice.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a sly smile. “Ah, so the valiant Sebastian Hilam, Consort of the Moon, Slayer of Hydras, and Hero of Canterlot, has finally met his match in a six-year-old filly.”

I gestured at Mira, her tiny chest rising and falling under the blanket. “Look at her, Luna. She’s determined, bright, and stubborn. How could I possibly say no?”

Luna crossed the room in a few graceful strides, her hoofsteps little more than whispers. She leaned down to examine Mira more closely, her expression softening further as she brushed a stray lock of the filly’s dark mane from her face with a wingtip. “She is precious,” Luna murmured, her voice carrying an almost maternal warmth. “And ambitious. It seems Noctra’s daughter takes after her mother in more ways than one.”

I chuckled quietly, leaning back in my chair. “She’s going to run circles around me. I can already tell.”

Luna straightened, her gaze shifting back to me, and her teasing smirk returned. “I fear she already has, my moonlight. Soon, you will be but a memory, a stepping stone on her path to greatness.”

“Very funny,” I replied dryly, though I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

Luna settled herself near the edge of the desk, her wings folding neatly at her sides. “So, how has the first night of her apprenticeship fared? Have you imparted some great wisdom?”

I gestured at the open scroll of Prestidigitation on the desk. “We started with the basics. She was eager and is picking up the fundamentals quickly. Though, as you can see…” I glanced at Mira, still sound asleep. “She couldn’t quite keep up with my exhaustive lectures.”

Luna laughed softly, the sound like the first notes of a lullaby. “It seems your penchant for thoroughness has claimed another victim.”

“Harsh,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help but laugh with her. “She’s a quick learner, though. I think she’ll surprise us.”

Luna tilted her head, her expression thoughtful as she regarded me. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I think I am. She reminds me of… well, me. Back when I first started learning from you.”

Her gaze softened, and she reached out with a wing, brushing it lightly against my arm. “You’ll be a wonderful teacher, Sebastian. She’s lucky to have you.”

I glanced at Mira again, her small form dwarfed by the chair she had curled up in. “Honestly, I think I’m the lucky one.”

The silence that followed was warm and companionable, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft breathing of the sleeping filly. Luna leaned closer, her mane brushing against my shoulder as she looked out the window at the rising sun.

“Do you think…” she began softly, her voice a ghost of a whisper. “Do you think we might ever—”

She stopped herself, her cheeks tinting faintly as she quickly looked away. I blinked, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor, but before I could ask, she cleared her throat and gestured toward Mira. “She should return to Noctra soon. The night has ended, and rest is overdue for all.”

I nodded, though her unfinished question lingered in my mind. Carefully, I stood and lifted Mira into the crook of my arm. I paused, and watched her as she stirred slightly, her ears twitching, but she didn’t wake.

I used to hold Aldin just like this. This was his favorite sleeping position—

“I’ll take her back,” I said, using my voice to cut short the thought. “You get some rest. I’ll be right back.”

Luna smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you, my love.”

I carried Mira out of the room, her soft weight felt oddly comforting. As I descended the spiraling stairs of the spire, my thoughts kept drifting back to Luna’s unfinished question, and I couldn’t help but wonder… was she thinking the same thing I was?

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Wizard’s Arm.

A name as unassuming as the prosthetic was extraordinary. Weeks of rigorous testing and intricate spellcraft had culminated in its creation. The silversheen of the prosthetic gleamed with layered enchantments — Rapid Repair and Positive Pulse — granting it the resilience to stave off the Decay’s effect and thus keep the arm operational.

The most ingenious feature, however, was the modified Secluded Grimoire spell, painstakingly engraved into its structure. This enchantment allowed the prosthetic to automatically retreat to the Ethereal Plane for self-repair when its durability reached critical limits. Alternatively, I could send it there manually, whether to gain the upper hand in battle or, if the mood struck, to literally disarm myself.

The result was a complex fusion of arcane engineering and Zebrat alchemy. Incredibly expensive, undeniably innovative — and entirely untested in combat.

That, I would soon change.

The sparring grounds spread before me as I crossed the threshold, the familiar earth beneath my boots crunching softly with each step. A crisp breeze carried the faint scent of grass and damp soil, invigorating in the early evening air. Celestia’s sun dipped low on the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the grounds. The fading golden light mingled with the cool glow of Luna’s rising moon.

Soon, Luna's domain would reign supreme.

At the far end of the field, a cluster of thestrals stood in a loose semicircle around Noctra. Her silver armor glinted in the fading light of the sun, the armor was a relic of Luna’s personal guard from long ago, her mane neatly tied back as she instructed the newest batch of Lunar Guard recruits. Her voice carried across the distance, sharp and commanding yet oddly comforting — the sort of tone one might expect from a veteran soldier who saw herself as the den mother of her troops.

I stopped for a moment under the pavilion at the edge of the grounds, adjusting the Wizard's Arm with a flick of my left hand. Its intricate runes caught the light as I flexed the steel fingers, testing their range and speed of motion. So far, so good. No glitches, no sluggishness. This might actually work.

"Consort," Noctra called, her eyes locked onto me.

The recruits turned as one to follow her gaze, their expressions a mixture of awe and curiosity. To them, I must have seemed a curious figure: a true alien, Luna's consort and apprentice, and — if gossip held any sway — an enigma who occasionally emerges from his solitude to train, attend some event, and occasionally get maimed.

"Noctra," I greeted her, striding into the training circle with deliberate calm. I gave the recruits a quick nod, their bat-like wings twitching in response, though none dared meet my one-eyed gaze for long. I turned back to their captain, my lips curling into a faint grin. "I couldn't resist coming to see how you're tormenting your newest recruits."

"Discipline, Consort. It is called discipline. And they are in need of much of it," she replied evenly, her stoic mask firmly in place, though her ear flicked slightly — a subtle tell. "But I suspect you did not come here to observe."

"You're right," I admitted, lifting the Wizard's Arm for emphasis. "I'm here to give my newest creation a proper test run. And who better to help than the famed Captain of the Lunar Guard?"

Her amber eyes narrowed slightly, though there was a flash of amusement in them. "You wish to spar, then?"

"I do," I said, folding my real arm across my chest. "Besides, I need to know if this arm can keep up. It's only fair to test it against someone who might give me a challenge."

Her brow arched. "Might?"

I let my grin widen. "I promise not to use magic, Noctra. That way, you might actually win."

The recruits behind her gasped softly, their reactions ranging from shock to barely suppressed laughter. Noctra's stoicism faltered for a split second, her mouth twitching as if fighting a smile.

"You’re a pain," she muttered, turning slightly to dismiss the recruits with a wave of her wing. "Leave us. You have your drills to complete."

The thestrals saluted in unison, murmuring affirmations before retreating to the perimeter of the grounds. Once they were out of earshot, Noctra stepped closer.

"And this," she said, gesturing to the prosthetic, "is what you intend to test?"

"Among other things," I replied, flexing the arm again. "But mostly, I want to see how well it handles in a fight. Who better to help than my second most capable opponent?"

"Flattery will not sway me," she deadpanned, though the corner of her mouth twitched again.

"No flattery intended. No magic. Just me, the arm, and your best effort. What do you say? Help out a friend with his new arm? I really need a hand here.”

"Very well," she exhaled sharply, but her voice carried an edge of amusement. "If only to assist you with your 'Wizard’s Arm,'."

"Ah," I said with mock solemnity, raising the prosthetic to gesture dramatically. "The gauntlet has been thrown. Or, in this case — the arm."

Her stoic facade cracked, a faint chuckle escaping before she caught herself. "Prepare yourself, Sebastian," she said, wings flaring slightly. "You will need more than clever words to win."

With a burst of unicorn magic, I levitated one of the wooden practice swords into my new right arm. “Oh, but Noctra,” I said, unable to keep a tinge of excitement from coloring my tone. “I’m always prepared.”

The recruits dropped their training routines almost immediately, their curious eyes darting toward the sparring circle. Whispers fluttered through the group, but a sharp glance from Noctra silenced them.

Her amber eyes locked onto me as she slid into a combat stance, wooden hoofblades gleaming faintly in the moonlight. "Do not hold back, Sebastian. I will accept nothing less."

I grinned, as I gave the wooden sword an experimental twirl with the Wizard’s Arm. The prosthetic responded flawlessly, the enchanted mechanisms making not a noise. The weight and balance of the weapon felt natural, as if it were an extension of my body. Just like Luna said all that time ago, when we first began our sparring lessons. I shifted my stance, feet shoulder width apart, and nodded.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, though I briefly glanced at the recruits. Their eager expressions betrayed the weight of their expectations. The Captain of the Lunar Guard sparring against the Consort of the Moon wasn’t just practice — it was a spectacle. For a fleeting moment, I considered letting her win, if only to preserve her reputation.

Her sharp tone cut through my thoughts. “Eyes here, Sebastian,” she barked. “Do not worry about them. It is an honor to spar with you. Prove why you are worthy of the blade you carry.”

Promise.

The tension in the air thickened, and the recruits leaned in, practically holding their breath.

Noctra moved first.

Her speed was astonishing, a blur of motion as she closed the gap. Her wooden hoofblade darted toward my side in a feint. Anticipating the trick, I pivoted on my heel, deflecting the true strike with the wooden sword. The clash echoed across the sparring grounds.

She was relentless, her strikes coming in quick succession. Each blow was precise, aimed at testing my reactions. The Wizard’s Arm absorbed the impacts flawlessly, its enchanted silversheen structure absorbing the shock seamlessly.

I countered with a diagonal slash, forcing her to retreat a step. She spun with the momentum, her hoofblade sweeping low in an arc meant to unbalance me. I jumped back, the edge of the practice blade grazing the dirt where I’d stood moments before.

“Not bad,” I quipped, already stepping forward to press the advantage.

Her response was a wide grin — rare, but sharp as her strikes. She launched a flurry of attacks, forcing me to gain experience with the use of the Wizard’s Arm at a pace I did not anticipate. Coming to her for a spar had been the right move. The recruits murmured in awe as we exchanged blows, their eyes darting back and forth, struggling to keep up with the speed of the fight.

Finally, I saw an opening. I parried one of her thrusts, redirecting her momentum, and landed a quick tap against her shoulder with the wooden sword. It wasn’t enough to stagger her, but it earned me a raised brow.

“Well done,” she said, only to immediately press forward with a renewed intensity.

I barely had time to react as her wooden hoofblade struck my left side. A second blow landed on my thigh, solid enough to sting even through the sparring gear. I staggered slightly, regaining my footing just as she pulled back, giving me a moment to breathe.

“That only counts as one,” I quipped, wiping sweat from my brow.

“Two,” she verbally countered, her breath steady despite the exertion.

I smirked. “Fine. Two it is.”

“And you’ve yet to show the recruits why they call you the Consort of the Moon.” She nodded toward the watching thestrals. “Perhaps a demonstration of the upper limits of magic in combat is in order.”

Before I could respond, she stepped back. “Now,” she said, her voice loud enough for the recruits to hear, “show them what magic in combat looks like.”

I hesitated, glancing at the recruits who now stood in rapt attention. Their eyes sparkled with expectation, waiting to see what I could do. Magic was a different game entirely — dynamic, unpredictable, and, in the wrong hands, devastating.

My gaze shifted back to Noctra. Her stance was solid, her amber eyes filled with determination. She wanted this. She wanted me to push the boundaries of our sparring, to show her recruits the potential of blending magic and martial skill. And perhaps to show her a glimpse of Mira’s future.

"Alright," I said, gripping the practice sword tighter. A smirk tugged at my lips. "You asked for it."

The air shimmered faintly as I activated Shift. In an instant, I reappeared behind her, wooden blade already swinging toward her flank. She started to turn, but not quickly enough — my strike landed cleanly against her armor, eliciting a grunt of acknowledgment.

Before she could retaliate, I felt the familiar heat of Mythic Power building within me as I dipped into some of that wellspring of power. My left eye burned, the sensation both electrifying and nearly euphoric as my vision sharpened and my reflexes heightened. Her counterstrike came fast — hoofblades arcing through the air with precision — but I moved faster. I twisted away, every motion smooth, almost preordained.

I sidestepped her second strike and darted in, landing another blow against her shoulder before using Shift again to create some distance.

The recruits murmured in awe as I appeared several feet away, raising my prosthetic. The fingers on Wizard’s Arm flashed through the necessary somatic gestures as the incantation spilled from my lips.

With a flex of silversheen fingers, I cast a nonlethal version of Burning Hands.

From the fingers of the prosthetic, a wide cone of golden-green flame erupted, washing over the area between us. The flames danced harmlessly along Noctra’s armor, the heat intense but entirely nonlethal. The light illuminated her sleek frame, her narrowed eyes glinting with approval even as she braced herself.

The recruits gasped, the display clearly more than they’d expected from a simple sparring match. They most likely did not expect to watch their captain get bathed in flame when they woke up this evening.

When the flames subsided, Noctra stood firm, smoke curling faintly from her armor. She didn’t attack immediately; instead, she dipped her head slightly in respect.

“Well done,” she said, a trace of a smile tugging at her lips.

I lowered the Wizard’s Arm and offered her a nod. “Thank you, Captain. Sparring with you is an honor.”

Her smile widened slightly before she turned to her recruits. "Now, learn from this. As you have just witnessed with the Consort of the Moon, mages are a significant threat on the battlefield."

Noctra pivoted sharply, her amber eyes locking onto mine as she gestured for me to step forward. “Consort,” she said, her voice steady but commanding, “perhaps you would share your insights with the recruits. They’ve seen what a mage can do — now they should know how to fight one.”

The recruits turned their full attention toward me. I stepped closer, resting the practice sword against my shoulder and flexing the fingers of the Wizard’s Arm as I considered how best to condense my experience and knowledge into a few key lessons.

“Fighting mages is all about disruption,” I began, my voice carrying over the courtyard. “Most mages are vulnerable in melee. They rely on maintaining a certain level of focus and distance to effectively cast their spells.”

I let the wooden blade fall into my left hand, holding it at the ready as I continued. “Your primary goal when engaging a mage is to keep them from casting at all. Close the gap quickly and keep up the pressure. If they can’t complete their incantations or gestures, they’re as good as unarmed.”

The recruits nodded, some muttering to each other as they processed the advice. I tapped the blunt edge of the practice sword against the stump of the Wizard’s Arm for emphasis.

“With unicorns, there’s an additional weakness,” I said. “Their magic is channeled through their horns, and it’s more fragile than you’d think. Even a small crack or nick can sever their connection to their magic entirely. A glancing blow is all it takes to temporarily separate the average unicorn from their magic.”

One of the recruits raised a hoof. “But what about mages who use artifacts?”

“Good question,” I replied, meeting her gaze. “The principle is the same: disrupt their rhythm, force mistakes, and don’t give them time to recover. Take out their focus item if they have one, and watch for traps. Smart mages always have a contingency plan.”

I paused, letting the recruits digest my words before finishing. “Above all, never underestimate a mage’s ability to adapt. If you drop your guard for even a moment, they’ll exploit it. Treat every spellcaster like they’re capable of taking you down with a single spell — because the best ones are.”

A ripple of murmured acknowledgement ran through the group, and I saw more than a few thoughtful expressions among Noctra’s recruits. Satisfied, I returned the practice sword back to its stand and turned to Noctra.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” I said, inclining my head.

She nodded, her sharp features softening for a moment. “And thank you for the lesson, Consort. My recruits will not forget it.”

I saluted her lightly, then turned to leave, heading toward the barracks to retrieve my belongings. As I walked, I flexed the Wizard’s Arm again, marveling at how seamlessly it responded. Every movement felt natural, almost as though it were an extension of my own body rather than an intricate piece of spellwork and engineering.

With a satisfied smile, I stepped into the cool evening air. I felt a renewed sense of confidence in the arm and what it could accomplish. Now I just needed to figure out what to do about my right eye, and I’ll be back in tip-top shape.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

I had taken to wearing the Wizard’s Arm constantly since my bout with Noctra. Familiarity with the limb was essential; every motion, every sensation had to become second nature. Consistent use was the only way to achieve that goal.

The silversheen fingers of the prosthetic tapped a steady rhythm against my desk. My remaining eye glared at the blank pages before me, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The idea for the Wizard’s Arm had come together with relative ease, but designing a solution for my missing eye was proving far more complex.

The curse of Decay loomed over every attempt to replace what I’d lost. Anything I used for my eye would be no exception; the curse would attempt to consume whatever I placed into the socket that had once held my right eye.

I raised my left hand to the scarred, unnaturally smooth flesh that was sealed over the hollow where my eye had once been. Meridin’s touch had done more than take my arm and eye — it had warped the muscles around the socket, sealing the lid shut with no hope of natural movement. To implant a replacement would require cutting it open, exposing the hollow beneath.

The thought of watching — and seeing through — an eye as it rotted away inside my skull made me grimace. I could enchant the replacement as I had with the Wizard’s Arm, weaving spells to delay the Decay, but the prospect felt impractical and disturbing. There was another solution, one far simpler: I didn’t need an eye. Not in the conventional sense.

Raising my hand, I slid the Laurel of Vast Intelligence from my head. Its silver leaves shimmered in Luna’s light spilling through the tall windows, and I tapped them lightly with my prosthetic’s silversheen fingers. The haunting resonance filled the room, a sound both eerie and invigorating.

Inspiration struck, bringing with it a grin that split my face. This would require meticulous effort — it would require time, careful spellwork, divination magic, and a touch of my mythical power. The Laurel could evolve, its purpose redefined. No longer an item that granted intelligence and a small boost to resistance alone, it would become something far greater — a device that replaced my lost vision while sidestepping the curse altogether.

A smile tugged at my lips as I imagined the possibilities. It wasn’t just an upgrade — it was a reinvention.

And with that reinvention came a new name: the Laurel of Vision.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The grand hall of the Night Court was bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight streaming through the tall stained-glass windows. The light of the moon mixed with the dancing light of braziers that lined the court, and held the chill of winter at bay. Lunar Guards stood stationed at their posts along the walls of the court, and hidden among the rafters high above. The quiet of their vigilance was challenged by the noisy petitioners in the queue, stretching along the length of the hall and through the doors. Nobles in fine cloaks rubbed shoulders with weary peasants bundled against the winter chill that permeated the space beyond the castle’s walls.

I stood to Luna’s right, my left hand resting lightly on the pommel of Promise — more out of habit than form of necessity. The sword was a constant comfort, as was Luna’s presence beside me. This was my first time attending Night Court in months, and although the proceedings had not changed since then, I found the experience comforting.

Luna sat upon her midnight throne, regal and serene as always. Her crown caught the light as she leaned slightly forward, listening intently to a petitioner — a well-dressed merchant from Trottingham who was lamenting some new trade tariffs. Her calm, measured tone carried through the hall as she responded, a bastion of reason amid the petitioner’s overblown dramatics.

I couldn’t help myself. “Trottingham merchants are passionate, aren’t they?” I murmured, leaning just a hair closer to Luna.

A faint quirk of her lips — one I’d learned to read as her private smile — was her only reply.

The petitioner bowed low with a look of satisfaction before retreating. A noble mare from Manehattan stepped forward next, her expression prim and her mane done up in elaborate curls. She began with a long-winded introduction about her family’s history, clearly building toward some self-serving request.

I waited until the noble paused for breath before whispering again. “I didn’t realize Night Court doubled as a genealogy lesson.”

This time, Luna’s eyes shifted slightly, catching mine in a glimmer of shared amusement before returning to the petitioner. She answered the mare’s request with her usual poise, deftly redirecting her toward more practical solutions than the limitless funding she’d clearly hoped for.

The noble left with a mixture of relief and disappointment, and a stallion in tattered winter clothes stepped forward next. His face was gaunt, and his bow low. His petition was simple: his village, far to the north, was struggling with the unusually harsh winter, and he sought aid.

Luna’s tone softened as she addressed him, promising to send supplies and speak with the weather teams about easing the storms in the region. Her compassion was blatant, and I found myself watching her not as her apprentice or consort, but as someone deeply impressed by her unwavering grace.

Somehow, Luna made such promises of aid to be akin to a gift from the divine. Although in this case, it might as well have been.

As the stallion left, she turned her head just enough to glance at me. “You have been quiet,” she whispered, her voice low enough to not carry.

“I’m saving my best lines for when the nobles return,” I replied, my tone light.

She shook her head faintly, though her expression held the barest hint of warmth.

The line of petitioners continued, each pony stepping forward with their concerns. Some sought help with genuine problems — lost crops, damaged homes, disputes over land. Others came with grievances or ambitions thinly veiled as public interest. Through it all, Luna listened, judged, and responded with the wisdom that made her so beloved by those who sought her aid.

Between the petitioners, I found small moments to comment, to tease, to quietly remind her that even in the midst of these long, often taxing nights, she was never alone.

As another petitioner — a young mare with an earnest plea for better education funding in her district — left the throne room, I shifted slightly, letting the Wizard’s Arm stretch and flex. It had been nearly two hours since I’d donned it, and I could feel the faint magical tension that signaled it was time to send it away for repair. I focused briefly, activating the Modified Secluded Grimoire spell. The silversheen prosthetic dissolved into runes of golden-green light, which faded in a fraction of a second.

“Impressive as always,” Luna remarked quietly as the next petitioner approached.

“I live to impress, my lady,” I replied, keeping the grin off my face only because the petitioner — a stout earth pony wrapped in a thick scarf — was already launching into a tirade about property disputes.

I allowed my mind to wander slightly, thinking of the changes I’d made that changed the Laurel of Vast Intelligence into the Laurel of Vision. The enchanted silver leaves rested on my head, and I was eager to show Luna the modifications — she was in for quite the surprise when all these petitioners leave.

I glanced at the line ahead, noting that we were halfway through. Still, a faint smile played on my lips as I looked at Luna again. Tonight wasn’t just about Night Court or surprises — it was about being here with her, sharing her burdens and, hopefully, making them just a little lighter.

The hours stretched on as the line of petitioners slowly thinned. Each new pony that approached carried with them the weight of their concerns — some valid, some less so — but Luna remained steadfast. Her calm responses reflected a patience I envied. She truly was a master of her court, balancing justice and compassion with a level I could only hope to emulate.

As the last petitioner approached, the sound of hooves against the polished floor echoed faintly. This one was a weathered pegasus stallion, his wings tucked tightly against his sides. His plea centered on the deteriorating state of a bridge near his village, a structure vital for trade. Luna listened intently, nodding at intervals, and assured him that engineers would be dispatched to assess and repair it before the winter storms worsened.

The stallion offered a deep bow before retreating, his relief evident in his grateful expression. As the grand doors of the throne room closed behind him, the room fell into a momentary hush.

Luna exhaled softly, leaning back against her throne. “At last, a moment of peace,” she murmured, her voice carrying just enough weariness to reveal how taxing the night had been.

“And here I thought you enjoyed the endless tales of mismanaged farms and forgotten bridges,” I teased as I stepped closer to her side.

She raised a brow at me, though her lips curved faintly. “You seem far too entertained by these proceedings. Perhaps I should make you sit upon the throne next time.”

“I’d last an hour before I set the hall on fire,” I replied, my tone light. “Oh, I have something to show you…” I reached up, fingers brushing against the silver leaves resting on my brow.

Luna tilted her head, curiosity gleamed in her eyes. “You’ve been fidgeting with that all night. What are you scheming, Sebastian?”

“Fidgeting? Scheming? Me?” I placed a hand over my chest in mock offense. “I’m merely eager to show you an upgrade I’ve been working on. Call it a late-night experiment.”

She straightened slightly, her interest piqued. “Go on, then. Let me see what has you so eager.”

With a small grin, I flexed my mythical power activating the enchantment woven into the Laurel of Vision. The silver leaves glimmered faintly as the magic activated, and I felt the familiar sensation of the mythical power activating the spellwork. Behind me, a halo of glowing hazel eyes materialized, each one identical to my own. The ethereal orbs hovered in a perfect circle, their soft glow casting faint shadows against the stone walls.

Luna’s reaction was immediate. Her ears flicked back, and her wings tensed against her sides. Her gaze darted from one floating eye to the next, her expression shifting rapidly from surprise to... something far less impressed.

“What... is that?” she asked, her voice tinged with an unease I hadn’t expected.

“These,” I said, gesturing to the halo of eyes, “are part of the Laurel’s new function. They grant me complete all-around vision. Perfect for battle or avoiding sneak attacks. Ingenious, don’t you think?”

Her lips parted as if to respond, but she hesitated, her eyes lingering on the glowing orbs. “It is... effective,” she said finally, though her tone carried more reservation than praise.

“You don’t like it.”

“I do not dislike it,” she countered quickly, though her gaze flicked away from the hovering eyes. “It is simply... unsettling. Must they all look like yours?”

I chuckled, allowing the spell to fade. The halo of eyes dissolved into shimmering motes of light, leaving the room dimmer without their glow. “I thought it fitting. Though I admit, I may have underestimated their… impact.”

Luna shook her head, though there was a faint hint of amusement in her exasperation. “You always find ways to surprise me, Sebastian. Even when I’m certain I’ve seen it all.”

“That’s the goal,” I said, stepping closer and offering her a mock bow. “Consider it my way of keeping things interesting.”

Her laughter was soft, but genuine, as she rose from her throne. “Interesting, indeed.”

The throne room began to empty as the guards prepared for the shift change, and I fell into step beside her. For all her reservations, I could tell the Laurel’s newest enhancement had intrigued her. If nothing else, I had succeeded in making her night a little less predictable.

Departure

I hated this room.

I hated it, and yet I insisted that we used it anyway. The decision was one rooted in my stubbornness, and my desire to prove to everyone — including myself — that I had moved on. What had happened should not bar us from simply using a room.

After all, It wasn’t even the room that I was murdered in.

We were in the meeting hall, and the atmosphere felt weighted. A sort of tense silence thickened the air as we gathered around the polished long table. The room was usually reserved for dignitaries and important diplomatic affairs, with tall arched windows that ushered in the early evening light that threw about ever darkening shadows across the hardwood floors. The room had completely escaped the ravages of Chrysalis’ failed invasion attempt. Yet, the room set something in my chest to tighten.

No, It wasn’t the room itself, but rather what the room represented. The last time I’d been here, Chrysalis had been at the table wearing Cadance’s form, her saccharin smile that hid malice. Shining Armor had sat stiffly beside her, his mind not quite his own. I had misread the situation entirely, attributing the signs to wedding related stress and exhaustion. None of us had known the truth then, not until it was too late.

The memories gnawed at the edges of my focus, flashes of green, the sound of the barrier shattering followed by changeling wings, the false-Luna knife stroke and her nearly-decapitated corpse, Aldin’s final moments, and the sharp pain of Promise piercing my chest. Ascension. My hand clenched instinctively at the thoughts, and I let out a slow, deliberate breath.

I sought solace in Luna's presence beside me.

Her hoof found my hand under the table, warm and solid against my palm. I glanced at her, and she gave me a faint nod, her expression calm but her eyes betraying a hint of concern. The gesture was simple and soothing — she’d known this would be difficult for me. She read me like a book.

I gave her hoof a soft squeeze to let her know that I appreciated her reassurance.

Celestia sat at the head of the table, her usual serenity tempered by a faint tension around her eyes. She studied a scroll in front of her, though I suspected her mind was elsewhere. Noctra stood near the door, her sharp amber eyes scanning the room as though she expected an ambush at any moment. The Lunar Guard captain had always been vigilant, but her wariness seemed particularly heightened tonight.

Almost like she was remembering the last time we were all in this room.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Luna murmured, her voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I gave her a small, wry smile. “Just... remembering.”

She squeezed my hand gently. “This time is different. You know that.”

“I do,” I agreed, my voice surprisingly steady despite the churning in my stomach. “But knowing doesn’t stop the memories.”

Before she could reply, the sound of hoofsteps echoed in the hallway. Noctra’s ears twitched, and she straightened, her posture immediately alert. Celestia looked up from her scroll, her expression smoothing into that unreadable mask she wore in times of stress.

“They’ve arrived,” Luna said softly, her hoof still resting in my hand.

The heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing Shining Armor and Cadance. Shining’s gaze was sharp, his steps measured, and there was no trace of the vacant, glazed expression he’d worn the last time I’d seen him here. Cadance’s presence was radiant as always, but this time it carried an edge — a subtle determination in the set of her jaw and the way her eyes swept the room.

As they entered, I felt the air shift, the weight of the moment finding a way to press down even more heavily. I tightened my grip on Luna’s hoof.

Shining Armor and Cadance approached the table, their steps steady in spite of the tension that hung so thick in the air. Shining offered a brisk nod to Celestia and Luna before his gaze briefly turned to me. His expression was difficult to read, but there was a faint acknowledgement in his eyes — respect, perhaps, or understanding.

Cadance’s eyes swept the room, her demeanor calm but purposeful. When her gaze landed on me, she offered a small smile, warm but subdued, as if aware of the storm of memories that this room stirred. I returned the gesture with a slight dip of my head, although I couldn’t hold her gaze for long without the images of green fire and twisted chitinous sneers clawing their way to the surface.

“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna,” Shining began, his voice steady but carrying a note of urgency. “We came as soon as we received your summons. Is it true? The Crystal Empire has returned?”

“It is,” Celestia confirmed. “Its reappearance was confirmed yesterday by our ponies in the Frozen North. However, the circumstances are... complicated.”

I glanced at Luna, whose hoof remained in my hand under the table. Her jaw tightened slightly, her gaze fixed on Cadance as if weighing her. I could feel the silent tension building between them, though Cadance’s expression remained neutral, her focus on Celestia’s words.

“The Empire’s return is not just a matter of reclaiming its lands or ensuring its stability,” Celestia continued. “It appears to have returned alongside its last ruler — King Sombra.”

The name hung in the air like a dark cloud. I knew of him only through scattered tales, most of them painting him as a tyrant, though the details had always been vague.

“Sombra?” I said, breaking my silence. “I thought he was dead.”

“So did we,” Luna said, her voice softer than usual. She glanced at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place — regret mixed with something darker. “But it seems the spell that banished the Empire was tied to him as well. When the Empire returned, so did he.”

“And you believe he’s there now?” Shining asked, leaning forward slightly. His expression was a mixture of determination and worry.

“We cannot be certain,” Celestia admitted. “But the evidence strongly suggests his return. The Empire’s reappearance has already caused a disturbance in the ley lines, and the darkness surrounding its borders is an unmistakable sign of his magic.”

Cadance, who had grown silent, spoke. “If Sombra is back, then the Crystal ponies will be terrified. He ruled through fear, and that fear will still linger. But the Crystal Heart—” She stopped, as though realizing she was speaking too quickly. Her gaze flashed to me, then back to Celestia. “The Heart is the key. If we can find it and activate it, it will banish his influence and protect the Empire.”

“It is not a simple task,” Luna interjected, her tone grim. “The Heart is hidden, and the Crystal ponies will not remember its location. Their memories will be clouded by fear and Sombra’s magic.”

Shining Armor’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll have to protect them until we find it. Cadance and I can keep them safe with our magic until we can get the heart to Cadance — she’s their rightful ruler after all.”

I frowned, glancing between Cadance and Luna. “Rightful ruler? I thought the Crystal Empire had no connection to Equestria.”

Cadance’s expression softened, though it still held a trace of uncertainty. “It doesn’t. Not directly. My lineage traces back to the Empire. I’m... the last of its royal bloodline.”

That was news to me. I blinked, processing the revelation. “So you’re the heir.”

“She is,” Celestia said, her voice firm. “And her presence is essential. Activating the Heart will require her magic and her connection to the Empire.”

The plan began to take shape in my mind, though it felt tenuous at best. “And what about Sombra?” I asked, my voice low. “What if he’s there?”

Luna’s gaze shifted to me, something unreadable in her eyes. “That is a question we will address in due time.”

Celestia cleared her throat, drawing the room’s attention. “For now, the plan is this: Cadance and Shining Armor will lead the effort to protect the Crystal ponies. Noctra and Twilight Sparkle’s friends will provide additional support. Twilight will aid in finding and bringing the Crystal Heart to Cadance. Sebastian—”

All eyes turned to me, and I felt the weight of their gazes like a physical pressure.

“You will go as well,” Celestia continued. “Your knowledge and magic will prove invaluable in navigating the challenges ahead.”

I nodded slowly, though my mind was already spinning with questions. Questions that could only be answered by going to the Crystal Empire. They were questions that would soon be answered.

Celestia rested her hooves on the polished table, her steady gaze meeting each of ours in turn. “Luna and I must remain here in Canterlot. If we are seen in the Crystal Empire during Sombra’s deposition, it would trigger political repercussions that would ripple far beyond the Empire’s borders. This is why Cadance must take the lead. As the rightful heir to the Crystal Empire, her involvement will ensure far fewer… complications.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. I blinked, grappling with the weight of her reasoning. The very rulers of day and night, goddesses of near-unparalleled power, unable to intervene in the liberation of a nation enslaved under the iron hoof of a despotic usurper.

Celestia’s voice softened, yet her resolve remained unshaken. “The risks are undeniable, and I would not send any of you on this mission if it were not essential. But this is what must be done. You each have a role, not just in liberating the Crystal Empire but in safeguarding the future of Equestria itself.”

The room remained silent for a moment before Shining Armor finally nodded. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“As will I,” Cadance added, her voice steady with resolve.

I added my own confirmation, alongside a smile filled with a confidence I didn’t quite feel.

Celestia gave a faint smile before rising from her seat. “Then we are agreed. Prepare yourselves for immediate departure to the Frozen North. I will have Twilight and her friends on their way posthaste. Time is of the essence.”

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The nearly empty Canterlot train station had a somber stillness to it, broken only by the faint whistle of the night wind threading through the towering arches. The platform was illuminated by lamps that cast off soft, flickering pools of light onto the cobblestone ground. Early spring’s crisp air nipped at my skin, sharp enough to make me adjust my cloak, but the chill was nothing compared to the weight in my chest.

Luna stood beside me, her presence both comforting and heavy. The flowing ethereal strands of her mane seemed almost muted under the faint lamplight, their usual brilliance subdued. Her gaze was cast toward the tracks, though I could tell her thoughts were miles away.

“Luna,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

She turned to me, and the expression on her face caught me off guard. There was a softness in her eyes, a vulnerability she rarely let show in public, even if no one was around. It was the same look she’d worn the night she found trying to stitch myself up, the night we’d confessed what we meant to one another.

“You don’t want me to go,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

Luna didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she reached out, her hoof brushing lightly against my chest. Right over the wound that had once snuffed the flame of life from me. I took it, my fingers curling around her hoof as she finally spoke.

“Of course I don’t,” she murmured. “But I know you must. You are the best choice for this.”

I glanced at the tracks stretching into the distance, an empty path that felt symbolic in ways I didn’t care to dwell on. “I’ll come back,” I said, the words more for her than for me.

“You cannot promise that,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration, though it wasn’t directed at me. “Sombra is not a foe to be underestimated. Even now, I wonder if Celestia and I erred in sending you.”

“You didn’t,” I replied firmly. “This isn’t just about the Crystal Empire. It’s about protecting Equestria — and it’s about doing what needs to be done.”

Her hoof pressed harder upon my chest, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. But instead, she stepped closer, leaning her head against my shoulder. The motion was tender, but I could feel the storm of emotions she was holding back.

“I hate this,” she admitted. “I hate sending you into danger, knowing the risks. Knowing what Sombra was capable of a millennium ago...”

Her voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. Sombra’s dark magic had been a force unlike any other, and his studies had taken him to places few dared to tread.

“I’ll be careful,” I said softly, resting my cheek against her mane. Its cool, comforting texture calmed me in ways I couldn’t quite explain. “I’ll assess the situation, and deal with him as the situation demands.”

Luna pulled back just enough to look at me with an intensity that froze me in place. “You cannot afford to hesitate, Sebastian. Sombra is beyond redemption. He will use anything, and everything to achieve his goals. You must ensure he does not threaten Equestria again.”

The weight of her words settled over me, but I managed a nod. “I will.”

She studied me for a moment longer, then sighed, her breath visible in the chilly air. “I wish we had more time,” she said. “Not just before your departure, but... in general. To be together without danger looming over us.”

I smiled faintly, brushing a strand of her mane back from her face. “We’ll make time. After this, when the Crystal Empire is safe, we’ll figure it out.”

Her lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You always speak as though the future is assured. I admire that about you.”

“It’s not assurance,” I admitted. “It’s hope. And stubbornness.”

Luna chuckled softly, and the sound warmed something deep inside me. For a brief moment, the tension between us lifted, replaced by the quiet comfort we so often found in each other’s presence.

The whistle of an approaching train broke the stillness, and Luna straightened, her expression shifting back to its usual composed mask. I knew her well enough to see the cracks beneath it, the worry she was trying to hide.

Before either of us could say more, the sound of hoofsteps echoed from the other end of the platform. I turned to see Noctra approaching, her sleek, storm-gray coat glinting under the lamplight. Beside her was Mira, her youthful energy contrasting sharply with the attempt at a serious expression on her face.

“Captain,” I greeted Noctra with a nod before shifting my gaze to Mira, then turned to Mira, a smile sneaking onto my lips. “My little apprentice.”

Mira’s eyes snapped toward Luna, then back to me. “I wanted to see you off,” she said, her voice quiet but unwavering.

Luna stepped closer, her expression softened as her gaze rested on Mira. “And I wanted to keep mother company until you all leave,” Mira added, the slightest trace of reproach in her glance toward Noctra.

Noctra smirked, the faint glow of her slit-pupiled eyes catching the dim light. “She insisted,” the captain remarked dryly. “And we both know how impossible it is to argue with her.”

Luna exhaled lightly, though the sound lacked any true irritation. Instead, she reached out and gently tousled Mira’s mane. “You’ll stay here with me, little one. We’ll look after each other until Sebastian and Noctra return.”

Mira nodded, her usual attempts at copying her mother’s stoicism was completely discarded as she glanced between Noctra and me. “Okay,” she said, her voice steady. “But... just promise you’ll come back, alright?”

I knelt down to Mira’s level, my one eye meeting her amber gaze. The faint glow of her slit pupils reflected the station’s lantern light, making her look far older and wiser than her years. I reached into my Bag of Holding, my fingers easily finding what I was looking for.

Pulling out my Teashades of Night, I held them out to Mira. The violet lenses shimmered faintly, a testament to the efforts I went into piecing the item back into working order. The frame still bore a few scratches, and the right lens held a thin line that I couldn’t seem to mend, but they worked just as well as they did when I had two eyes.

“I want you to hold onto these for me,” I said, placing the glasses into her hooves.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at the teashades, then back up at me. “But... these are yours,” she protested softly.

“And they’ll be yours for a little while,” I replied, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll need them back when I return. Think of it as a promise between us. You hold onto them, and I’ll come back to collect them. Deal?”

Mira hesitated, her lips pressing together as her gaze flicked to Luna, who gave her a nod of encouragement. Finally, Mira clutched the glasses close to her chest and gave a firm nod. “Deal.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her determination. “Good girl,” I said.

Mira stepped forward suddenly, wrapping her forelegs around me. The unexpected hug took me by surprise, but I returned it with my left arm, holding her close. “Stay safe,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my coat.

“I will,” I promised.

When she finally let go, I rose to my feet. Noctra watched the exchange with her usual stoicism, but I caught the faintest twitch of a smile on her lips.

The sound of a train’s approach echoed through the station. Turning toward the tracks, I saw the Friendship Express pulling into view. Plumes of smoke billowed into the night sky as it slowed to a halt.

From the far end of the platform, Shining Armor and Cadance approached. Shining’s expression was firm, his posture a bit more rigid than usual, while Cadance exuded a calm grace that seemed to soothe the tension in the air.

“Are we ready?” Shining Armor asked as he came to a stop beside us.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” I replied.

Before I could say another word, Luna stepped closer. Her wings fluttered faintly at her sides as she drew in a slow breath. “Sebastian,” she began, her voice quieter now, meant only for me. “Before you go... will you repeat your promise to me?”

I turned to her, seeing the worry she couldn’t quite hide. My fingers brushed against the pommel of Promise, the blade she’d entrusted to me, and I nodded.

“I promise,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll come back. I’ll always come back.”

Luna’s eyes glimmered, and for a moment, I thought she might say something else. But instead, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against my cheek. “Good,” she whispered. “I needed to hear that.”

The train’s whistle blew, signaling our departure. I turned to Noctra, Shining Armor, and Cadance, who were already boarding. Luna stayed at the edge of the platform with Mira by her side, their forms bathed in the soft glow of the station lights.

I gave them one last look, burning the image into my memory, before stepping onto the train. As the doors closed behind me, the station began to fade from view, and with it, the figures of the ones I was leaving behind.

This wasn’t goodbye. It was just another promise waiting to be kept.

Damnātiō

The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels provided a steady backdrop to the silence as we sped toward the Frozen North. Outside, the world was shrouded in darkness, Luna’s moon cast pale light that glinted off the snow-covered landscape. The occasional groan of the train's metal frame would periodically break the stillness within our cabin.

I leaned back in my seat, my Wizard’s Arm cradled in my lap. The silversheen prosthetic thrummed inaudibly with the energy of the spells woven into it, the sound entirely lost beneath the train’s motion. I flexed the fingers experimentally, noting the slight resistance in the joints as the curse of Decay began to edge closer to the arm’s limit. With a flex of magic, I sent the prosthetic to the Ethereal Plane to give it the few minutes it would need to repair itself.

My gaze drifted back to the frost-laced window.

The landscape outside had shifted to barren, snow-covered plains. The Frozen North loomed ahead, its icy grip tightening with every passing mile. Memories resurfaced unbidden. The numerous days that passed steeped in the frozen grip of an uncaring mountain, with only Aldin to keep me company. I was so weak back then, so weak and so foolish. To be fair, I’m probably still very much the fool, just a strong fool.

I exhaled slowly, watching my breath fog against the glass.

I needed to focus.

So, I focused my thoughts on Luna's advice she once gave me on the topic of dark magic users. She had said that dark magic feeds on negative emotions such as pride, envy, wrath, and so on. The user’s reliance upon these negative emotions renders them particularly vulnerable to emotional manipulation, especially during the heat of combat. Exploit these weaknesses, and they will easily fall.

This wasn’t the first time I’d faced a powerful foe, but Sombra was different. He wasn’t some beast driven by hunger or the reality warping spirit of chaos or even a changeling queen. He was a tyrant, a powerful practitioner of dark magic, and my task was clear: ensure he never threatened Equestria again.

The weight of Promise at my hip was an old friend. My fingers brushed the pommel absently as I considered Luna’s private request. She believed Sombra was beyond redemption. And though she hadn’t said it outright, her meaning had been unmistakable.

She wanted Sombra dead.

I glanced at my companions. Shining Armor sat across from me, his jaw set in a grim line. He was without his captain’s armor, on this mission Shining Armor was not acting as the Captain of Solar Guard, but as the husband of the soon-to-be Empress of the Crystal Empire. I smirked at a new thought, I would be calling him ‘Emperor Consort Shining Armor’ soon. Beside him, Cadance rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed but her expression tense.

She wasn’t sleeping — none of us could.

Noctra was perched at the far end of the cabin, near the door. Noctra’s ancient Lunar Guard armor was left back in Canterlot as well, but she still wore the gauntlets with her hoofblades. Her sharp amber eyes were half-lidded, but I could tell she was alert, her ears twitching faintly with every sound that the train made. I do not think that Noctra enjoys train rides, because every groan that the train produced drew out a hiss from the Captain of the Lunar Guard.

“We’ll need a plan,” Shining said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. His tone was calm but carried an edge of urgency.

“We have one,” Cadance replied without opening her eyes. “We protect the crystal ponies, stabilize the city, and find the Heart. Twilight and her friends are on a train behind us, and will arrive soon enough to help.”

Shining frowned, glancing at me. “And you? Any insights?”

I leaned back slightly, my fingers tapping the edge of the bench. “Luna’s told me a bit about Sombra,” I began, keeping my tone neutral. “He’s cunning, ruthless, and completely unrepentant. Whatever we think we know, assume he’s already accounted for it.”

Shining’s frown deepened. “So, we’re walking into a trap?”

“Most likely,” I admitted. “But traps can be baited. Dark magic thrives on negative emotions. Sombra will try to unnerve us, to play on our fears and doubts. If we play our cards right, we can turn that against him.”

Cadance opened her eyes and sat up, her gaze steady. “What about the crystal ponies? How do we protect them while dealing with Sombra?”

“That’ll be your priority,” I said. “You and Shining will lead the defense. Sombra is said to be strong, but with you two working together, I doubt he will be able to easily pierce a barrier you two erect. Noctra and Twilight’s friends will back you up as needed. As for the Heart…”

“We’ll find it,” Noctra said quietly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “That’s what we’ll do.”

Her confidence was reassuring, but I could feel the tension radiating from everyone in the cabin. None of us had faced anything like this before, and the unknown was a heavy burden.

I turned back to the window, letting the conversation fade into the background. My mind shifted to the task ahead, to the moment I would inevitably face Sombra. When the moment of his death arrived, would he beg? Would he gloat? Would he even care?

My grip on Promise tightened. No. It didn’t matter. He was a tyrant, a slaver, a threat to everything Luna and I dreamed of. His death would allow for peace to reign. There was no room for hesitation, no room for mercy.

I checked the strap of my Bag of Holding, ensuring it was secure. Everything I needed was in there: spell components, numerous supplies, and various scrolls that might prove useful.

My fingers reverently traced the crescent moon on the pommel of Promise. Luna’s cutie mark smiled back at me, and drew from my mind memories of the love and trust that she had placed in me — and of the promises I have made to her.

“I’ll come back,” I muttered under my breath, the words a mantra I clung to.

Noctra turned her head slightly, her sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the cabin. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” I said a little too quickly.

Noctra said nothing, though the knowing smile that played across her face made it clear that she’d heard me. But, it wasn’t just that she heard — it was the way she smiled, as if she understood the significance of my words. Even so, she refrained from probing further and returned to her silent vigil, her gaze steady on the endless cold outside.

The train began to slow, its brakes screeching against the rails. The sound jolted me from my thoughts, and I called the Wizard’s Arm back to me. As I double checked the prosthetic, I glanced around at the others. Shining and Cadance were on their hooves. Noctra was hissing a curse at the screeching brakes as she rose gracefully.

The train came to a halt with a final groan of metal against ice, and the hiss of steam billowed into the frozen air as the conductor hurried past us without so much as a glance. His hurried hoofsteps crunched against the snow, growing fainter as he muttered something about ‘bad omens’ and ‘getting out while I still can.’

I stepped off the train first, my boots sinking into the powdery snow. The cold was immediate, gnawing at my face and hand despite my layers. The station loomed in front of us, a skeletal shadow against the star-filled sky. Its weather-beaten timbers groaned faintly under the weight of snow, just as I remembered, but something was wrong.

The world was quiet… far too quiet.

Off to the north, I could see spires, slightly obscured by what appeared to be dark clouds. Last time I was here, those spires did not exist. That must be the famed Crystal Empire.

Behind me, the others disembarked in silence. Noctra’s sharp gaze swept our new snow filled surroundings, her wings twitching at her sides. Shining Armor and Cadance exchanged a glance, their expressions uneasy.

“This place feels… off,” Shining said, his voice low.

I nodded as I scanned the area. The last time I was here, this station had been a modest hive of activity. Ponies bustled about, hauling supplies and braving the cold with a grim sort of efficiency. Now, the only signs of life were the faint impressions of hooves in the snow, scattered and leading away from the station in chaotic patterns.

Noctra crouched beside one set of tracks, lightly brushing away the fresher snow with an armored hoof to expose deeper indentations. “These aren’t from hauling supplies,” she muttered. “They were running. Erratic. Fast.”

“Running from what?” Cadance asked, her voice trembling slightly.

I didn’t answer immediately, my attention drawn to the depot a short distance away. Its dark windows stared back like empty eyes, the doors slightly ajar. A faint flicker of movement caught my eye — a shadow, perhaps, or a trick of the moonlight.

“We should check inside,” I said, motioning toward the depot.

The others followed, their unease palpable. Shining Armor took the lead, his horn glowing faintly as he pushed open the doors. The creak of the hinges echoed into the still air, loud enough to make me wince.

Inside, the depot was a frozen tableau of abandonment. The door had been left open long enough for the Frozen North to make itself at home inside the depot. Snow trailed into the depot, most likely blown in overtime. Shelves that should have been stocked with supplies were bare, their contents strewn across the floor. A trail of spilled oats led toward the back, where a shattered crate lay amidst jagged shards of black crystal.

Cadance gasped, pointing toward the ceiling. I followed her gaze and felt my stomach lurch. Black crystals jutted out at unnatural angles, piercing through the wooden beams and spreading like a cancerous growth. Their jagged edges glistened with frost, and the air around them seemed heavier, colder than it had any right to be.

“What… what is this?” Shining Armor whispered, stepping closer to inspect the crystals.

“Dark magic,” I said grimly. “It has to be. These crystal formations clearly aren’t natural. Someone wanted to leave a message.”

Noctra’s amber eyes narrowed as she examined the crystals. “Sombra,” she said, her voice a low growl.

I nodded, my hand instinctively resting on Promise. “He was here.”

The implications settled over us like a shroud. If Sombra had been here, what had become of the ponies stationed here? I moved toward the far end of the room, where the faint metallic tang of blood reached my nose.

“No,” I muttered, pushing open the door to a smaller storage room.

The scene inside was worse than I’d feared. Three bodies lay sprawled on the floor, their coats matted with blood. Jagged black crystals impaled them, pinning them to the walls and floor in grotesque poses. Their eyes, frozen in terror, stared blankly into the void.

Cadance choked back a sob, and Shining Armor wrapped a hoof around her, pulling her close. Noctra crouched beside one of the bodies, her expression unreadable as she examined the wounds.

“They never had a chance,” she said flatly.

I clenched my fists. The sound of metal grinding on metal filled the air, my jaw tightened as I fought back the rising bile in my throat. These ponies — faceless figures from my memories — had deserved better than this. They did not deserve to die in the fear and the cold, so far away from their homes.

“We need to move,” I said, my voice harder than I intended. “Twilight and the others are on their way. We don’t have time to waste.”

Silence hung heavy among us. The depot's interior was suffocating, the air thick with the foul residue of dark magic and the acrid stench of murder. As we stepped back outside, the wind keened through the Frozen North, an icy lament for the dead left behind.

My eye fell once more on the tracks leading away from the station, vanishing into the now steadily falling snow. Somewhere out there, Sombra could be waiting. Perhaps he was already closing in, drawn by the train’s brief stop. Or he could be deep within the Crystal Empire itself. Or something worse — something we hadn’t yet considered.

In just a few hours, Twilight and her friends would arrive here on their own train, unaware of the potential danger lying in wait.

A choice now loomed before us. We could make for the Crystal Empire, secure its borders with a barrier, and buy ourselves time to locate, retrieve, and bring the Crystal Heart to Cadance. But such a move carried a dire cost: leaving Twilight and her friends vulnerable.

And Sombra did not strike me as the merciful type. The grisly fates of those who’d already faced him left no room for doubt.

We needed a plan. I turned to offer a rough plan of my own making, but Cadance stood tall, the faint luminescence of her horn’s aura cutting through the encroaching darkness. Her expression was set, determined in a way that I had only ever seen on the other princesses during moments of crisis.

“We can’t risk lingering here any longer,” she said, her voice sharp and decisive. “The Crystal Empire needs us. If Sombra’s inside the Empire, then we’ll take the castle and erect a barrier around it. If he’s not inside then we raise a barrier around the entirety of the Empire. We’ll be able to keep Sombra out long enough to secure the Heart.”

Shining Armor nodded, his mane tussling in a biting breeze. “Cadance and I can take turns maintaining a barrier. Together, we can hold Sombra off while we search the castle for the Crystal Heart.”

Cadance turned to me, her gaze softened but never lost its edge. “Sebastian, is there anything you can do to help Twilight and her friends when they arrive? They’ll be walking into danger without knowing it.”

I hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. “I can plant an Alarm spell over the tracks. When their train arrives, I’ll know. Then I can teleport to them and bring them straight back to us.”

“That will have to do,” Cadance said. “Be quick about it. Every moment we spend here risks Sombra finding us.”

I stepped onto the tracks. I flashed through the necessary motions while muttering the incantations of abjuration. The spell surged to life with a subtle awareness that bloomed in the back of my mind, like a taut thread tied to this stretch of track. Anything of significance crossing this threshold would alert me with the chime of a bell.

“It’s done,” I said as I stood and flexed my flesh and silver fingers alike.

Cadance was already moving, her wings tucked tightly against her sides as she began to lead the way. “Then let’s go. We have a kingdom to save.”

I hesitated for a moment as I watched her lead on. Back straight, head held high, wings set firm to her sides, confident strides. She looked like a smaller version of Celestia. A smaller, slightly softer version of Celestia. She’s going to make a great Empress.

We fell into formation behind her, Shining Armor keeping pace at her side, his horn glowing faintly in preparation to cast should Sombra make a sudden move. Noctra walked at my right, her movements more akin to a stalking feline than a pony. The wind howled around us, carrying the eerie creak of the abandoned station.

We moved north, the howl of the wind growing sharper, carrying with it a strange, low resonance that was neither entirely natural nor entirely magical. I tried to dismiss it as the groan of ice shifting in the distance, but the sound lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind like a forgotten word on the tip of my tongue.

Ahead, the faint shapes of spires loomed on the horizon, blurred and distorted by the rolling waves of dark clouds that swirled above them. They seemed almost alive, pulsing with an unnatural rhythm, their shadows clawing across the snow like the fingers of some unseen predator. Every step brought us closer to the Empire, and its spires.

“The Crystal Empire,” I murmured, my voice lost to the howling gale.

Cadance paused, following my gaze to the distant spires. She stood firm against the storm, her mane whipping wildly around her. “It’s close,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with something else — an edge of unease that mirrored my own.

Shining Armor stepped closer to her, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon. “Those clouds... They weren’t in the reports,” he muttered. “It’s like they’re circling the Empire itself.”

“They probably are,” I said, tightening my cloak against the cold. “If Sombra’s magic is anything like the stories suggest, he’s using the storm to shield his approach — or trap us inside.”

Noctra’s sharp voice cut through the wind. “Then we’d better move faster. Standing here makes us easy prey.”

We pressed on, the snow crunching beneath our boots and hooves. The cold gnawed at my exposed skin, and I briefly considered casting Endure Elements, but I hesitated. The Empire was so close — if we could make it to the safety of its borders, then we’d be out of the worst of the storm and inside of warm shelter.

Each step felt heavier, as if the very air resisted our advance. The dark spires grew more distinct as we neared, their jagged forms gleaming faintly against the swirling gloom. They reminded me of the dark crystals back at the station, their angular shapes unnatural, almost hostile.

The oppressive weight of dark magic thickened the closer we got, pressing down on my chest and constricting my breathing. I wasn’t the only one who noticed; Shining Armor glanced back at me, his face far whiter than usual but resolute all the same. “Feel that?”

“Hard to miss,” I said. “It’s like the air itself is tainted.”

Cadance looked uneasy as she glanced at the swirling darkness that surrounded us. “Sombra’s influence,” she said grimly. “He’s close. I can feel him.”

The moment she spoke, the storm seemed to shift, the wind howling with renewed fury. And then, without warning, a crackling beam of green light pierced through the gloom, aimed directly at the back of Cadance’s head.

“Cadance, move!” I shouted, but Shining was closer and managed to push her aside. The beam found its mark on Shing’s horn instead of Cadance’s.

Shining’s horn sparked violently, the magic surrounding it flickering like a dying flame. Black crystals erupted along its length, jagged and pulsing with an ominous energy. He staggered back with a grunt, clutching his head with a hoof.

“Shining!” Cadance cried, catching him as he staggered.

Noctra and I spun toward the direction of the attack, scanning the storm for any sign of movement. The shadows seemed to ripple and shift, as if mocking us, but no figure emerged.

“It’s him,” Noctra hissed, her voice low and venomous.

“Sombra,” I said under my breath, drawing Promise from its sheath. The blade brought with it confidence, even as it was being wielded in my newer, silversheen hand.

Shining groaned, leaning on Cadance as her magic flared in a desperate attempt to counter the corruption. The black crystals spread slowly, creeping like frost along his horn.

Although my knowledge of dark magic is not nearly as vast as I would prefer, anyone could make the educated guess that the crystal growths on Shining’s horn would incapacitate his capacity to wield his magic.

"We need to move," I said, glancing around for the next threat. The storm swirled with dark, almost liquid malice, and every flicker of shadow felt like it might spring to life.

Cadance helped Shining to his hooves, her wing brushing his shoulder in a silent gesture of support. Shining stood tall in spite of the crystals that now jutted from his horn. He might have been cut off from his magic, but the defiance in his eyes burned brighter than ever.

“I’m fine,” he said with a slight edge to his voice. “Let’s go.”

Snow crunched beneath us in a frantic rhythm as we ran. The spires of the Crystal Empire loomed closer, their jagged shapes cutting through the storm like broken teeth. The air grew thicker with Sombra’s presence, his malevolence pressing down on us like a weight.

The second blast came the same as the first — without warning, a beam of sickly green magic streaking through the storm. It hurtled toward Cadance, her light blue aura flaring instinctively as she raised an impromptu shield to block it. The impact sent shards of energy scattering into the air, and she stumbled from the effort.

“He’s targeting Cadance!” I yelled, my mind racing.

Another beam shot toward her, and she barely deflected it in time. The strain was evident as she pumped her legs harder to keep pace.

I couldn’t let this continue.

If Sombra landed one of those beams onto Cadance, then this entire mission would be dead in the water, and this would devolve into a bloody brawl. A brawl in which I highly doubted my capacity to protect both Shining Armor and Cadance from Sombra. Especially if they’re unable to use their magic.

I refuse to let any of them die. I would not lose another friend.

“Sombra!” I roared into the storm, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Is that all you’ve got? Hiding in shadows and taking potshots like a coward? No wonder you're hiding behind this storm! I’d never want to show my face either if I was half as weak as you!”

The storm seemed to shudder, and for a moment, the oppressive weight of the storm faltered.

“Careful what you wish for, Sebastian,” Noctra growled, her amber eyes darting to the swirling darkness.

It worked. The next beam came for me, a crackling bolt of green magic that screamed through the air. I activated the Laurel of Vision with a thought, the halo of glowing hazel eyes flaring to life behind me. The world shifted as my perception expanded; I could see everything — the snow spiraling in the wind, the faint flicker of shadows betraying the direction of Sombra’s attacks, and the trajectory of his magic before it even reached me. It was almost like seeing reality in third person.

I tilted my head a few inches to the side. The beam missed by inches, and sent half-melted snow hissing into the air. Another green beam followed almost immediately, but I sidestepped with ease, the eyes of the Laurel showing me paths I hadn’t considered before.

“Too slow!” I shouted, swinging Promise through the air in a taunting arc. “If you ask nicely I could teach you a few lessons in magic. You might one day be able to hit someone who’s aware of your presence. Then, you might stop being such a disappointment…”

Sombra answered with a roar of fury and more of his magic.

Beams came in rapid succession, each one more furious than the last. I moved like a phantom, weaving between them without hesitation. Each dodge felt almost instinctive, the Laurel of Vision granting me clarity in my surroundings and my own movements.

“Sebastian, don’t push your luck!” Cadance called, her voice strained.

“Keep moving!” I barked back. “I’ve got this.”

The spires were closer now, their crystalline surfaces gleaming faintly through the storm. They didn’t look half as threatening now that they’re visible from the storm. Another blast from Sombra slammed into the snow, and spears of dark crystal stabbed up at me in an attempt to impale. I managed to pull off a Shift around it, reappearing thirty feet ahead, closer to my companions.

We broke through the storm’s edge and into the borders of the Crystal Empire. The air changed instantly, the oppressive weight of Sombra’s magic giving way to something lighter, more radiant.

Cadance wasted no time. Her horn ignited in an almost blinding burst of light blue aura, and she reared back, sending a wave of energy cascading outward. The light expanded rapidly, forming a shimmering dome of pale blue that enveloped the entirety of the Crystal Empire.

Inside the barrier, the storm died into a distant roar, and was unable to penetrate the protective spell. The Empire’s jagged purple and blue spires gleamed in their restored clarity, their beauty only slightly marred by the darkness that lurked just beyond the barrier.

Cadance staggered slightly, her wings drooping as she caught her breath. “This will hold,” she said, though her voice carried the weight of exhaustion. “For a while.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” Noctra asked, her gaze scanning the storm that raged against the barrier.

“A few hours, maybe,” Cadance admitted. “It depends on how hard he pushes.”

I stepped closer as I sheathed Promise. “Then we’d better start towards finding the Heart,” I said. The glowing eyes of the Laurel of Vision faded as I deactivated the laurel, and while I missed the improved perception the eyes granted, they also left me acutely aware of the looks the others gave towards the floating halo of eyes.

They have no problem with my scarred face and missing right arm, but a few floating eyes that see everything around me is too much?

Ok. Maybe Luna has a point about them being… unsettling.

The Crystal Empire stretched before us in haunting silence. The crystal streets felt barren, the crystalline surfaces dull and lifeless. I glanced at Cadance, her horn glowing faintly as she maintained the barrier. Her steps were steady, but there was a tightness in her posture — a strain that she couldn’t mask.

“We head for the castle,” Shining Armor said, his voice firm despite the crystals jutting from his horn. He stayed close to Cadance, his protective instincts unyielding even in the face of his own impairment.

As we moved, figures began to emerge from the shadows. Crystal ponies, their coats muted and their gazes hollow, peeked out from doorways, windows, and alleys. Their movements were hesitant, almost fearful, but as their eyes landed on Cadance, a spark of something broke through their numb expressions.

“Is that…?” one of them murmured, a faint whisper carried by the still air.

Another stepped forward, their voice trembling with disbelief. “The Empress… has returned?”

Cadance’s wings twitched, and her steps faltered for a fraction of a second. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she fought to maintain her focus on the barrier even as their recognition pressed down on her.

"Not an empress," she said softly, more to herself than to them. "Just a princess."

The small crowd began to grow as more ponies emerged. Their gazes flicked between Cadance and the rest of us, confusion mingling with the faintest glimmers of hope. It was disturbing, the way their expressions shifted so slowly, as if clawing through layers of despair just to feel anything at all.

“Why do they look like this?” Noctra whispered beside me, her tone edged with unease.

“Must be Sombra’s influence,” I replied grimly. “If I had to guess, he’s stripped them of their memories, their identities. They don’t even know what hope feels like anymore. A heartless means of control.”

Cadance’s jaw tightened, but she kept moving forward, her presence alone enough to guide the crystal ponies to follow at a cautious distance.

It wasn’t until we reached the center of the Empire that the full scope of the horror struck me. The crystal earth ponies came from every direction now, their dull coats blending together like a sea of ash. But as I scanned the crowd, something was missing — a glaring absence that sent a chill through me.

“There are no pegasi,” Cadance murmured, her voice trembling. Her gaze swept over the crowd, then lifted to the skies, as if hoping to catch sight of wings that were never going to be there. “No unicorns either.”

The implications hung in the air like a specter. What little I read on the Crystal Empire spoke of them as a harmonious blend of all three pony tribes, blessed by the Crystal Heart and thus forever changed from the ponies of Equestria. For there to be only Earth Ponies...

“Sombra did this,” Noctra growled, her fangs bared as she glared at the castle towering above us. “He’s erased them.”

Cadance’s expression hardened, her exhaustion momentarily eclipsed by raw determination. “We don’t know that for sure,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction.

The castle loomed closer, its spires gleaming faintly under the barrier’s light. The structure seemed more alive than the ponies surrounding it, as if it pulsed with residual energy — both beautiful and menacing in its grandeur.

The crystal ponies parted before us, their murmurs growing louder as they watched Cadance with wide, unblinking eyes. Some whispered prayers that seemed to confuse both the speaker and those around them, others simply stared as if desperately trying to recall something long forgotten.

The air grew colder as we approached the castle’s entrance. Even within the safety of the barrier, the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally, clinging to the edges of the structure like living things. The great doors loomed before us, their surface darkened by time and Sombra’s corruption.

I placed a hand on Promise’s hilt. The blade’s weight, and everything it represented, soothed me. "If Sombra left anything behind in there, it won’t be friendly."

Cadance paused at the base of the steps, her breathing heavier now. The glow of her horn intensified as she reinforced the barrier. “We’ll face it together,” she said, though the strain in her voice was evident.

“No.” My voice cut through the heavy air, drawing their eyes to me. I stepped forward, my gaze shifting between Cadance and Shining Armor. “You and Shining aren’t coming with us.”

Shining’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? If something is in there—”

“That’s exactly why you’re staying out here.” I gestured toward the gathering of crystal ponies. “Look at them. They’re starting to remember something, starting to feel something. That’s because of Cadance. They need her here. If she walks into that castle and something happens to her, their last shred of hope will die.”

Cadance opened her mouth to protest, but I raised a silver hand. “You can’t afford to risk it. Besides, you’re the only one who can hold up the barrier. If the barrier falls, this will all turn into a bloodbath, and while you’re concentrating on the barrier you can do little more than talk and move.” My gaze shifted to Shining. “And you… no offense, but you’re in the same situation as Cadance right now. Those crystals on your horn aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, my friend. You’re best here, backing up Cadance.”

Shining clenched his jaw, his frustration clear, but he didn’t argue. He knew I was right.

“Sebastian,” Cadance began, her voice wavering with concern, “this is dangerous. You don’t know what’s waiting in there.”

I managed a smirk filled with a level of confidence that I didn’t feel. “I promised Luna I’d come back to her. Promised Mira too. And I don’t break promises. You know that.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Cadance’s expression softened, but her eyes still glimmered with unease. “Then we’ll wait here,” she said quietly. “But if you’re not back soon…”

“We’ll be back,” I assured her. “If things go right, I’ll be teleporting back here with Twilight and her friends soon. Or — if we’re really lucky — I’ll be back with the Heart. Keep your ponies calm. They need to see their ‘Empress’.”

Noctra stepped forward. She said nothing, but the rigid set of her wings conveyed her readiness. The thestral mare was a force of nature, and the sharp glint in her eyes told me she understood the stakes just as well as I did. I did not doubt that she, out of all of us, was the most experienced with traversing dangerous territory. If you swap out dark magic and a castle, with monsters and a forest without light.

Turning toward the massive doors of the castle, I rested my hand on Promise. The blade hummed faintly, as if sensing the malice that oozed from the structure before us.

“Let’s go,” I said to Noctra. Together, we ascended the final steps, the air growing colder with each step closer. Behind us, Cadance’s glowing horn illuminated the edge of the crowd, her presence a beacon for the ever growing mass of crystal ponies.

At the threshold, the doors seemed to loom larger than life, their crystalline surface almost absorbing the light around them. A faint, pulsing sound reached my ears — a rhythm like a heartbeat, slow and ominous.

Noctra glanced at me, her voice low and steady. “This place reeks worse than the station.”

I nodded. The metallic sheen of the Wizard’s Arm glimmered faintly as I pushed one of the heavy crystal doors open, its creak echoing like a groan of agony. The darkness inside seemed almost alive, swirling and shifting as though it were waiting for us.

“Can’t be worse than death,” I muttered, more to myself than her.

Together, we stepped into the shadows. The door groaned shut behind us, the sound sealing us into the castle’s suffocating silence.

The air inside the castle was thick, oppressive, and carried an unnatural chill that clung to my skin like a damp, rotting cloth. The faint heartbeat-like pulse that I’d heard outside grew louder here, reverberating through the stone walls and vibrating in my chest like a primal warning.

“Stay close,” I murmured to Noctra. With a thought, the Laurel of Vision shimmering faintly as its semi-tangible eyes were summoned forth.

I began to chant, my voice steady in spite of the oppressive atmosphere. My silver hand traced intricate patterns in the air, and a wave of magic spread over my eyes. The world shifted to monochrome as the Darkvision spell took hold, letting me see the world beyond the reach of light.

I moved on to the next necessary spell. My left hand flashed through more somatic components as I muttered the vocals. The shimmering force of Mage Armor settled over me, an invisible shell that would hopefully assist in what was to come.

Turning to Noctra, I repeated the spell. The force field shimmered faintly as it enveloped her, and she gave a curt nod, her wings shifting in readiness.

“You good?” I asked, scanning the hallway with my augmented sight.

“Always,” she replied, her voice steady while her amber eyes glowing with a heightened vigilance.

We moved deeper into the castle. Constantly, I whispered the incantation for Detect Magic, keeping the cantrip active as I swept the area for anything magical. The laurel’s floating eyes shifted in unison with my gaze, their eerie light casting strange, angular shadows along the walls. Just as I had hoped, the laurel’s eyes took on the magic from the Darkvision spell, allowing me to see effectively in every direction while we traversed the darkness of the castle’s halls.

The architecture was wrong — impossible angles that made the walls seem to lean toward us, as though the castle itself was trying to inconvenience us while its old master was barred from doing so himself. Crystals jutted from the walls like jagged teeth, their surfaces dimly reflecting our images in distorted forms. My magical senses prickled as I caught faint remnants of dark magic lingering in the structure, like echoes of a malevolent presence.

“See anything?” Noctra asked, her voice hushed as she scanned for physical traps.

“Everything in here feels tainted almost,” I replied. “But no active wards or triggers so far.”

The hallway stretched ahead, lined with doors that seemed to writhe in the periphery of my vision. As we passed one, I glanced inside. The room was empty, save for a chain of black crystal that hung from the ceiling. I closed the door.

“Don’t touch anything we don’t need to,” I muttered, though the warning felt unnecessary. Noctra’s smart enough to not go around picking up random trinkets in a place like this.

The deeper we went, the stronger the oppressive aura became. The walls seemed to close in, and a whisper began to scratch at the edges of my hearing. It was faint at first, indistinct, like words spoken from great distance.

“Do you hear that?” Noctra asked, her ears twitching as her sharp gaze darted around.

“Yeah,” I said, gripping Promise tightly. “Keep moving.”

The whisper grew louder as we ascended a crystal staircase. They coalesced into a mournful voice that seemed to speak from somewhere deeper inside the castle.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

I gritted my teeth, shaking off the tension that those words planted into me. Noctra’s wings twitched, her body tense, but she didn’t falter.

The staircase ended, depositing us before another massive set of doors. These were darker than the ones at the castle’s entrance, their surface etched with flowing, jagged runes that shimmered faintly with malevolent energy.

The whispers stopped abruptly, replaced by a suffocating silence. I cast Detect Magic again, the spell revealing the faint glow of protective wards.

“There’s a ward on these doors,” I said, my voice low. “Give me a second.”

Carefully, I set about dismantling the ward, burning through two scrolls of Dispel Magic while I traced the runes in reverse. The air around the doors grew colder as I worked, and I felt the barrier resist my magic, as though it were alive and didn’t want to be disturbed.

With a final whispered incantation, the barrier let out a low groan as its death knell, its magic unraveled and dissolved. The runes faded into inert scratches on crystal, that served to only hint at what had once been a trapped door.

Noctra glanced at me. “Ready?”

I nodded, gripping Promise. Together, we pushed the doors open.

The throne room yawned before us, a cavernous expanse filled with darkness that seemed to writhe and crawl. At the far end, a twisted throne of jagged black crystal loomed, its surface gleaming with a sickly, pulsing light.

The heartbeat sound was deafening now, resonating through the chamber like a war drum. The shadows writhed unnaturally, shifting as though they were alive and aware of our intrusion.

We stepped inside, and the doors slammed shut behind us.

The boom of the doors echoed through the cavernous throne room, then faded into silence. The faint pulse of the floor beneath my boots remained, a grim reminder of the dark mag that permeated the castle.

My enhanced sight revealed little beyond the black and white contours of the room, the throne at the far end looming like a monument to despair.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” the voice whispered again, softer now, almost trembling.

I froze, my eyes searched through the room… nothing. Noctra’s ears swiveled, her amber eyes narrowing.

“You heard that, right?” she asked, her voice a tight whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, my hand tightening on Promise. “It’s not in our heads.”

“No... no, you shouldn’t be here. He’ll find you. He’ll hurt you like he hurt me.” The voice trembled with sorrow, each word heavy with despair.

I cast Detect Magic again, murmuring the incantation as I gestured subtly with my prosthetic hand. The spell revealed a faint, sinister aura beneath the floor, pulsing like a buried wound.

“There’s something under the floor,” I said, my voice low.

Noctra crouched, running her hoof along the crystalline surface. “No seams. It’s solid.” She glanced up, her expression grim. “Could be a hidden latch or trigger somewhere.”

We began searching, starting with the throne and working our way to every corner of the throne room. Nothing. The whispers continued, growing more frantic.

“Please, go. Leave this place. You don’t understand what he’ll do to you!”

The tone shifted, raw with emotion. It wasn’t a warning born of malice, but of desperation and a hint of compassion.

I paused, the weight of the voice settling in my chest. “Who are you?” I called out softly, unsure if I was addressing the air or something unseen.

The reply was immediate, a soft sob. “Don’t you know me? Don’t you remember? It’s me… your big sis. Please, I tried to keep you safe.”

My breath caught, a chill running down my spine. The words were wrong, fragmented, as though they belonged to someone else’s life.

“I don’t have a sister,” I said, my voice firmer this time. “Who are you really?”

Only silence answered, and the air grew colder still.

“I found something,” Noctra said, breaking the tension. She was crouched near one of the crystal columns, her sharp eyes focused on a faint scratch in the floor. “Could be a marking or a clue. Might be something hidden here.”

I knelt beside her, studying the mark. It was faint, almost erased with time, but the shape was deliberate — a spiral etched into the crystal.

Another sob came, faint and distant. “I couldn’t save you then. I can’t save you now. Please, just go.”

Ignoring the voice, I stood and stepped back, unfurling a scroll of Shatter.

“What are you doing?” Noctra asked.

“Enough searching,” I said. “If there’s something down there, this should expose it.”

The words flowed from my lips as my hand traced the corresponding gestures. The spell’s energy surged, and a piercing ring shattered through the room, the sound almost unbearable.

Shatter.

The floor quivered but held.

I readied another scroll, the same incantation echoing as I cast the spell again. Another deafening crack rang out, fine fractures spidering across the surface of the crystal floor.

On the third scroll, the spell hit with a force that resonated through the room. The floor splintered, shards flying outward as a section gave way with a deafening crash. Dust and shards settled, revealing a spiral staircase descending into the void below.

The whispers fell silent, leaving only the haunting sound of the heartbeat, louder now, emanating from the darkness below.

“We’re not turning back now,” I said, gripping Promise and staring into the abyss.

The silence pressed against my ears like cotton, thick and unnatural, as I peered down the spiral staircase. The heartbeat thrummed beneath us, its rhythm unnervingly slow, like a predator’s pulse before the strike.

Noctra stepped forward, her amber eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, her leathery wings shifting as if to shake off the growing tension. "Whatever’s down there,” she murmured, “it doesn’t want to be found."

I grunted in agreement, gripping Promise tightly. The blade felt heavier now, its surface reflecting the dim glow of the eyes circling my head. "Let’s move."

We descended into the blackness, each step down the crystal staircase amplifying the oppressive weight of the air around us. My darkvision revealed the sharp angles and jagged surfaces of the walls, a stark contrast to the seamless beauty that the outside of the castle exuded.

The voice returned as we went deeper, soft and pleading.

"I begged him to stop,” it whispered, each word trembling with sorrow. “I told him I’d do anything if he’d spare you both.”

I froze mid-step, my breath misting the air. The voice felt closer now, almost tangible, as though it lingered just behind me. But the Laurel’s eyes revealed nothing but the emptiness of the stairwell, yet I couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

“He promised,” the voice continued, its tone growing distant, as though reliving an old memory. “He promised he’d spare my sisters if I gave him what he wanted. I believed him. I… I had to.”

“Sisters?” Noctra’s voice broke the spell of the whisper, her brow furrowing as she glanced back at me.

“She thinks we’re them,” I said, the weight of the realization pressing down on me. “I believe we’re hearing a ghost.”

Noctra looked at me like I had finally gone insane. “Ghosts aren’t real, Sebastian. This must be some sort of dark magic spell.”

I let out a chuckle that lacked any humor. “Dark magic might be why the ghost is trapped to this plane, or it could be how it died that has it trapped. Or a little bit of both.”

The stairs spiraled endlessly downward, the heartbeat growing louder with each step. The voice didn’t stop, growing more frantic and broken.

“He lied to me,” it sobbed, words spilling out like a confession. “He made me show him where the others were hiding. He said he’d let them go. But he—”

The voice cracked, dissolving into a pitiful wail that echoed around us, carrying the weight of guilt everlasting.

“I betrayed everypony. I betrayed you. I… I just wanted it to stop.”

The sorrow in the voice was suffocating, clinging to my skin like a damp chill. My knuckles whitened around Promise’s hilt, the memory of my own failures and mistakes rearing its head unbidden.

“You heard that, too?” Noctra asked, her voice quiet but sharp.

I nodded, unable to muster words.

We reached the bottom of the staircase, the air colder and thicker than ever. Before us stood a massive door, its surface of jagged crystal carved with cruel precision. Runes spiraled outward from its center, pulsing faintly with dark energy.

The heartbeat was deafening now, each beat sending vibrations through the floor and up my legs. With Detect Magic, the spell revealed a swirling storm of malevolent aura just behind the crystalline door.

Before I could speak, a figure shimmered into view before us, translucent and faintly glowing.

She was a unicorn, barely an adult. Her crystal coat dimmed with death’s pallor, her eyes wide and glistening with tears that could never truly fall. Her voice was a broken whisper as she looked at us with pleading eyes. Her horn was missing, just a clean stump remained, as if someone had taken an incredibly sharp tool to the base of her horn and cut it clean off.

“Please,” she said, trembling. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to betray you. I just… I wanted it to stop.”

Her form flickered, as though the weight of her anguish was too much for her incorporeal body to bear.

“I gave him everything,” she continued, her voice cracking. “And he… he killed you anyway.”

She sank to her knees, her face a mask of despair. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Noctra’s wings flared slightly, her stance caught between guarded and sympathetic. “Sebastian,” she murmured, her tone cautious. “I will never doubt you about anything like this ever again. What do we do?”

I stared at the ghost, her sorrow and guilt so palpable it felt like it could drag me into the same abyss. My mouth opened, but no words came. Instead, I returned Promise to its sheath.

Her form flickered weakly as I knelt, my left hand hesitating just above the ground where her spectral hooves rested. “You don’t need to apologize,” I said softly, my voice reverberating in the suffocating silence of the stairwell. “Not to us. Not to anyone. What happened was not your fault.”

Her head snapped up, her tear-filled gaze locking onto mine. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I told him where you were. I gave him what he wanted. I… I let him…” Her voice broke into a choked sob, her ghostly form trembling as though it might dissolve entirely.

“No,” I said firmly, meeting her hollow eyes. “You did what you had to. What anyone would have done. Sombra’s cruelty is not yours.”

Behind me, Noctra shifted, her wings brushing the walls of the narrow stairwell. She didn’t speak, but the tension in her posture had eased — if only a little.

The ghost stared at me as though she was searching my very soul. Her trembling stilled, but the anguish in her expression didn’t fade. “He promised he’d spare you both,” she murmured. “But he didn’t. He… he took everything. He always takes.”

I thought of my own death, the cold weight of failure in the Boneyard, and the endless expanse of judgment that lay just beyond life. It was not a place I wanted to return to anytime soon, but afterlife is where this one should be. Not trapped here. My heart ached for her, for the impossible choice she’d been forced to make. Not much of a choice really.

“You’re not alone anymore,” I said, my voice quiet. “We’re here. And we’ll finish him.”

She blinked, her eyes shimmering with tears that never fell, and for a moment, she looked like she might shatter. “You’ll die,” she said finally, her voice filled with a certainty that cut deep. “Just like everypony else did. You’ll leave me to him again.”

“No,” I said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The ghost stared at me, her translucent form flickering like a candle about to go out. Finally, she nodded, a faint, hesitant motion, and stood. Her voice softened, the pleading tone replaced by a deep sadness. “If you go through that door, you’ll see what he’s done. What he’s still doing. I begged him to stop, but he…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Knock six times. That will unlock it.”

I stood and exchanged a glance with Noctra, who gave me a terse nod. Together, we approached the jagged crystal door. The heartbeat now felt like it was inside my chest, each thrum rattling my ribs and sinking into my bones.

I raised my fist and knocked, each impact reverberating like a drumbeat in the oppressive silence. At the sixth knock, the door groaned and shuddered, the runes flaring briefly before fading into darkness.

The ghost stepped beside us, her voice trembling. “Please, don’t hate me. Don’t hate me for what you’ll see.”

The door creaked open.

The laboratory was a nightmare come to life: the walls gleamed with crystalline horns and skeletal wings, their surfaces polished as though displayed as trophies. A single crystal table stood in the center, its surface stained with a dark liquid I didn’t want to identify, and the scent of decay clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

A desk loomed in the corner, and atop it rested a single book, its cover radiating a strong, malevolent glow that could be seen without the use of magic. The book was the source of that terrible thrumming that beat through the very crystal walls around us, and into our very souls. Though I had not opened it, or deduced its contents, one word was summoned forth from all that I had seen: evil.

The ghost’s sob filled the silence. “I told him everything. And this… this is what he left behind.”

Noctra’s wings twitched, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene. “Sombra,” she growled, her voice filled with venom.

I took a shaky step forward, the weight of the ghost’s anguish and the horrors around us pressing down like a suffocating shroud. The ghost hovered behind us, her voice breaking as she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I said, keeping my voice steady even as the oppressive atmosphere of the room threatened to overwhelm me. “Not for his atrocities.”

The ghost flinched, her spectral form flickering faintly in the dim glow of the laboratory. Her eyes darted toward the book, and a tremor rippled through her translucent frame. “He wrote everything in that,” she whispered, her voice a thin thread of sound.

I nodded, swallowing against the rising bile in my throat. My gaze shifted to Noctra, who was scanning the room with an intensity that betrayed her disgust. “Stay alert,” I said softly.

She met my gaze briefly before nodding, her leathery wings twitching. “Already ahead of you.”

Turning my attention back to the book, I began another casting of Detect Magic. The moment the spell took hold, my senses were assaulted by a flood of dark magic. The book pulsed with it, its aura so dense that it obscured finer details. I frowned, focusing harder, pushing through the suffocating malevolence.

“It’s not enchanted in the traditional sense,” I murmured, the Laurel of Vision’s eyes shifting their focus alongside my own. “No magical traps that I can see. But it’s soaked in dark magic. Damn near saturated.”

Noctra moved to my side, her amber eyes narrowing as she stared at the book. “Then we leave it,” she said firmly. “We’ve seen enough. We don’t need whatever’s in there.”

“We need to know what Sombra was planning,” I countered, my voice low. “That book might hold the key to finding the Crystal Heart.”

Her glare was sharp enough to cut. “And what if it’s cursed? What if it kills you, or worse?”

“If it were cursed, I’d have detected it,” I replied, though her concern wasn’t entirely unfounded. It’s not impossible for me to have missed something.

“That’s not good enough,” Noctra snapped. “Let me read it. If there’s a trap you missed, I’ll handle it.”

“No.” My tone was firm, unyielding. “If something goes wrong, I’m the one best equipped to survive it. What I am grants me better resistance to such things as this. You do not have such benefits.”

Her wings flared slightly, and I could see the tension in every line of her body. “It’s my duty to ensure that you make it back to the Lady of the Moon,” she said, her voice dropping to a growl. “Not to let you throw yourself into danger because you think you’re invincible.”

“I’m not invincible,” I admitted as I turned to meet her gaze. “But I am the best option we have. If we leave this room without answers, we’re no closer to stopping Sombra or saving the Crystal Empire, and we would have wasted time. Time that we do not have. I can’t accept that.”

Noctra’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she turned away with a frustrated flick of her tail and began searching the room.

I exhaled slowly, the ghost’s presence drawing my attention. “Do you know where the Crystal Heart is?” I asked her gently.

She shook her head, her expression crumpling with guilt. “He never let me see it. I only know… he hated it. Feared it. He hid it somewhere nopony could reach.”

“Do you know what’s in the book?”

“It’s… it’s his,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “His notes. His plans. Everything he did to us. Everything he planned to do.”

I nodded, turning back to the desk. My heart pounded as I extended a hand toward the damned book. Its aura was suffocating, the weight of unfathomable cruelty pressing down on me.

“Noctra,” I called softly.

“What?” she snapped, not turning from her search.

“I’m taking the book,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hand.

Before she could argue, I swept the book into my left hand, its surface unnaturally cold against my skin. Nothing happened. No explosion of dark magic, no compulsion attempting to seize my mind.

The ghost hovered nearby, her wide eyes locked on the book as if it might lash out at any moment. Noctra turned, her expression a mixture of worry and anger.

“Be careful,” she warned, her voice low.

“I will.” I started to flip through the pages, the dark aura still pulsating as I began to read.

The book’s pages were dry and brittle, exuding a faint, acrid scent that stung my nostrils. My silversheen hand rested against the crystal desk for balance, its cool, unyielding surface a counterpoint to the shivering malevolence emanating from the tome. The Laurel’s eyes swirled and darted, watching every shadow, every mote of light, as though anticipating a strike.

The first few pages described Sombra’s rise to power in gruesome detail. His methods were efficient and unrelenting, the systemic genocide of crystal unicorns and pegasi laid out like a mathematical equation. Each line reeked of detached cruelty, the kind that didn’t revel in violence but saw it as a necessary component of success.

I clenched my jaw as I read his reasoning: fewer crystal ponies meant fewer dissenters, more control, and a greater concentrated well of dark magic to draw from. Horns and wings, he wrote, were potent reservoirs of magical energy, even in death. That was why he displayed them — like trophies, yes, but also as the focal points for dark magical power to be extracted from his victims.

The ghost hovered close, her voice trembling. “I tried to stop him. I told him it was wrong. He said it was for the Empire’s good. That we all had to make sacrifices for strength. I didn’t understand… until…” Her voice broke, and she drifted back toward the wall, fading slightly.

“Until he killed you,” I finished grimly.

She nodded, her tears silent but somehow heavy even in her incorporeal form.

I turned the page and nearly slammed the book shut. A formula sprawled across the parchment, its runes and diagrams meticulously drawn. The theorem outlined a ritual to grant Sombra an ascension of his own, one that needed to be performed at a gem encrusted door hidden somewhere in the Crystal Mountains. The door. It required a macabre list of materials: the horns and wings he’d already harvested, vast quantities of dark magical energy, and, most sickening of all, the corpse of an alicorn.

The text mentioned Luna and Celestia by name to fill the role of sacrifice.

The room seemed to grow colder still, the air heavy with the weight of what I was reading. The Laurel’s eyes glowed brighter, their hazel light cutting through the dimness. My own left eye burned, matching their intensity, as my mythic power stirred in response to the revulsion that boiled inside me.

“Sombra planned to kill them,” I spat out, my voice low and filled with a dangerous edge.

“What?” Noctra asked sharply, abandoning her search to step closer.

I held up a hand to stop her, unwilling and unable to repeat the details yet. My gaze returned to the book, skimming the rest of the formula. Sombra’s notes mentioned his fear of the Crystal Heart, his paranoia about its power. He had hidden it, he wrote, near the top of the Crystal Castle — high above where any crystal pony could hope to reach.

It was a clever hiding spot. In plain sight so as to be overlooked, while being out of reach of the populace he ruled over. The problem with such a hiding spot only comes when someone knows of its location. Like we do now.

“Of course,” I muttered. “He hid it where he thought no one could reach.”

The book pulsed in my hand, as if alive. A whisper crept into my mind, soft and insidious. “You could do it, you know. Finish what he started. Take the power he sought. You could become more than him, more than any mere pony could ever dream to be. You could be strong enough to save them all.”

I slammed the book shut, my mythic power flaring in response. The warmth of it spread from my heart, a defiant surge of hazel light pushing back against the dark tendrils that sought to ensnare and tempt me. It felt like fire and triumph all at once, burning away the corruption’s whispers before they could begin to take root.

Noctra flinched, shielding her eyes from the sudden glow. “Sebastian!”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, though my voice shook with barely-contained fury.

The ghost whimpered from her corner, her translucent form flickering as she shrank back. “Please, don’t…”

I wasn’t listening to the ghost. I wasn’t listening to the book. My anger surged, my left hand trembling as the Wizard’s Arm flexed against the table.

The Decay reacted to my emotions, spilling forth like a flood. Black light erupted from the silversheen arm, cold and ravenous, and seeped into the crystal desk beneath my silversheen palm. The pristine surface withered and cracked before collapsing into fine, dark dust.

“Sebastian!” Noctra’s voice rang out, sharp with alarm.

I stepped back, momentarily horrified by what I’d done. But the horror was consumed by rage. Rage at the atrocities Sombra had committed — and the audacity of this accursed book to even suggest I follow in his steps.

My hands clenched into fists, and I turned to Noctra, my face set in grim determination. “Sombra is going to die today,” I growled, the book clutched tightly in my left hand.

She said nothing, her amber eyes wary as she looked between me and the pile of dust that used to be a crystalline desk. The ghost hovered silently, her expression torn between fear and hope.

Without another word, I tucked the book into my Bag of Holding. My anger was interrupted by the tolling of a bell in the back of my mind.

Twilight and her friends had just arrived at the train station to the south.

The tolling of the bell echoed faintly in my thoughts, a subtle warning carried by the Alarm spell that I’d placed over the train tracks earlier. They should be at the train station to the south, stepping into a world of icy horror. I forced my rage to simmer beneath the surface, turning it cold and controlled.

There was no time to indulge it now.

“Noctra,” I said, my voice clipped but steady. “We’re leaving. Twilight and the others are at the station.”

She stepped closer, her expression still shadowed with unease as she glanced at the powdered remains of the table. “Do you really think we’ll get the chance to kill him?” Her tone was quiet, but the tension in her wings betrayed the turmoil beneath her calm exterior.

“I don’t think we will. I know we will.”

The ghost drifted closer, her translucent form flickering like a candle’s flame. Her wide, tearful eyes latched onto me as she trembled, a heartbreaking mix of fear and hope. “Don’t let him hurt you. Please… don’t let him take you like he took us.”

I looked at her, my lone eye meeting her faintly glowing ones. She was so young, barely more than a filly when her life had been stolen from her. The thought twisted something deep in my chest, feeding the icy fury that coiled there.

“I promise,” I said, my voice low and certain. “I will put an end to Sombra.”

Her lips quivered, and for a moment, she almost looked relieved. Almost. Then she flinched, her gaze darting toward the shadowy corners of the chamber. “He’s watching,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He’s always watching.”

The ghost was sucked back into her loop of anguish. I doubt she even recognized us as we truly are. She probably only sees her two little sisters… about to leave her all alone in the room she was murdered in.

Noctra tensed, her amber eyes scanning the room. “Sebastian—”

“I know,” I cut her off. “Let’s move.”

I held out my left hand to Noctra, and she took it without hesitation. The ghost hovered close, her form flickering erratically as though she were struggling to hold herself together. “Run,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible. “Please, just run.”

But there was no running from this. Not for me.

With a flick of my wrist, I retrieved the scroll of Teleport from my Bag of Holding and unfurled it. The spell’s familiar incantation rose to my lips. The ghost flinched at the sound, covering her ears as if the words pained her.

The magic surged, a rush of arcane energy that coiled through my arm and the air around us. The laurel of eyes floating above my head pulsed faintly, their hazel glow illuminating the chamber. I focused on the train station to the south, locking its layout into my mind’s eye. The spell took hold, wrapping around us like a cocoon of light.

The world twisted, the cold and darkness of the castle falling away in an instant. When the magic released us, we were standing on the snow-covered platform of the train station. Twilight, her friends, and Spike stood nearby, their expressions a mixture of relief and alarm as they took in our sudden appearance.

Why was Spike here?

Normally I would have asked why it was decided it would be ok to bring along a child into a place like this, but I was far too furious, far too caught in what I had seen in the nightmare that is Sombra’s laboratory.

I chalked Spike’s presence up to either being a stowaway, or his ability to deliver messages to Celestia. Or maybe his draconic ability to consume gems might be useful? Does the gem consumption extend to crystals? Who knows?

“Sebastian!” Twilight called, hurrying over. “What happened? Are you okay?”

I ignored the question, and bit back a crass response. None of them deserved my wrath. “We don’t have time for explanations,” I said curtly. “We’re going in.”

“In?” Spike asked, glancing nervously toward the distant spires of the Crystal Empire, shrouded in an eerie, unnatural haze. “As in, the Empire?”

“Yes,” I snapped, my patience fraying. “Cadance and Shining Armor are already inside. We’ll rendezvous with them at the castle’s entrance.”

Twilight hesitated, her eyes searching mine for answers I didn’t have the luxury to give. Finally, she nodded. “All right. Lead the way.”

“Hold onto each other,” I explained evenly. “If you don’t you will be left behind.”

I held out my left hand again, this time to Twilight. She grasped it hesitantly, and the others quickly followed suit, linking themselves to one another. Spike clung to Twilight’s side, his small claws digging into her coat. The scroll was spent, but I had a few more in my Bag of Holding. The spell’s incantation came easily, and the magic surged once more.

The station dissolved, replaced by the crystal expanse of the Crystal Empire. The castle loomed ahead, its crystalline spires piercing the storm-laden sky. At its entrance, Cadance and Shining Armor stood surrounded by a massive crowd of frightened crystal ponies, her calm demeanor barely concealing the strain beneath.

We had arrived.

The biting cold greeted us. The world came into sharp focus — a crystalline city bathed in a flickering light blue barrier that barely held back the encroaching storm of darkness that was Sombra. The massive crowd of crystal ponies surrounded Cadance and Shining Armor at the base of the castle steps, their frightened murmurs forming an almost physical wave of unease.

Cadance stood tall, her horn glowing fiercely as she maintained the barrier. Her breath came in short puffs, but she wore an expression of calm resolve that seemed to keep the crystal ponies from outright panic. Shining Armor remained by her side, his stance protective despite the dark crystals still embedded in his horn.

“Stay close,” I murmured to Twilight and her friends as I led the group through the crowd.

Noctra was at my side, her wings half-flared and her amber eyes scanning for potential threats. The crowd parted reluctantly, their gazes flickering from me to the halo of eyes floating behind my head to the newcomers behind me. Whispers of fear and fascination rippled through them, but I ignored it.

The cold fury burning inside me hadn’t abated. Each step through the sea of trembling ponies only deepened my hatred for Sombra. These ponies had been reduced to shadows of themselves, their spirits alongside their memories broken by his tyranny. Not to mention the lives lost.

As we approached the base of the steps, Twilight broke away from the group, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Cadance. “Cadance!” she called out, her voice filled with relief.

“Twilight!” Cadance’s face brightened as she spotted her. The barrier flickered for an instant but stabilized as she refocused. Shining Armor stiffened, his eyes landing on the floating eyes behind my head. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Twilight and Cadance hurried toward each other, and then, to my utter confusion, they began… chanting?

“Sunshine, sunshine!” Twilight sang out.

“Ladybugs awake!” Cadance responded, her voice tinged with warmth despite her fatigue.

They clapped their hooves together and — did they just shake their asses at each other?

My cold fury stumbled. The sheer absurdity of the moment was enough to jolt me out of my rage, if only for a heartbeat. I blinked, my lone eye narrowing as I tried to process what I’d just witnessed. Noctra coughed into her hoof, a sound that suspiciously resembled a snort of laughter.

“What the hell was that?” I muttered, half to myself. “Shining, this has to be your fault somehow…”

Twilight and Cadance didn’t seem to notice my bewilderment. They were grinning at each other, their bond momentarily lifting the oppressive tension. Shining Armor looked equally unfazed, though he glanced at me and gave a subtle shrug, as if to say, ‘You get used to it.’

It may not be his fault, but I’m blaming Shining Armor for this anyway.

The warmth of their reunion flickered like a fragile flame, but it was enough to ease some of the dread that was hanging over the crowd. My confusion faded as I refocused on the task ahead. The barrier was trembling under the intensity of Sombra’s relentless assault, and Cadance wouldn’t be able to hold it forever.

The flickering barrier thrummed with an ominous resonance, his power pressing against the edges like a predator testing its prey. The crystal ponies whispered ancient prayers to their ‘Empress’, their fragile hope teetering on the edge of despair.

“As adorable as all that was, we unfortunately don’t have time for reunions,” I said, my voice cutting through the fragile moment. My gaze shifted to Cadance, then to the castle towering above us. The spires were quieter now that Sombra’s book was removed from the castle. “The Crystal Heart is up there. At the top of the castle.”

Cadance’s eyes widened slightly, her exhaustion momentarily replaced by realization. “The Crystal Heart…” she murmured, almost to herself. Then she nodded, her expression hardening with resolve. “It must be retrieved and brought to me. With it, we can purge Sombra’s shadow forever.”

She turned to address everyone. “Twilight, Sebastian, Spike — you’ll go into the castle. Find the Crystal Heart and bring it back to me. It’s the only way to end this.”

Twilight stood taller, determination blazing in her eyes. “We won’t let you down, Cadance.”

Cadance shifted her focus to Noctra and Twilight’s friends. “I need all of you to help calm the crystal ponies. Keep their spirits up and assure them that we’re doing everything we can. They’re the foundation of the Empire’s magic; their hope is as important as the Heart itself.”

Noctra looked at me, her expression unreadable but her amber eyes searching mine for confirmation. I gave her a small nod, silent but firm. She dipped her head in response, her wings folding tightly against her sides as she turned to lead the others into the crowd.

The castle loomed behind us, its shadow long and foreboding. I turned back to Cadance. “How much longer can you hold the barrier?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but instead, her legs buckled. Shining Armor barely managed to catch her before she collapsed entirely, her horn’s glow sputtering but holding. The barrier wavered, its once-steady pulse faltering as dark tendrils licked at its edges.

“Cadance!” Twilight rushed to her side, panic etched across her face. Shining Armor held his wife tightly, his expression grim.

“She’s been holding it up for too long,” he said through gritted teeth. “She needs rest, but…”

The realization hit like a hammer. The barrier wouldn’t last much longer. When it fell, Sombra would pour in, and there wouldn’t be enough time to retrieve the Heart and return. We needed more time.

“Twilight. Spike.” My voice was steady, despite the ice running through my veins. “Go on without me.”

“What?” Twilight’s head snapped up, her panic shifting to confusion. “Sebastian, what are you—”

“I’m staying here,” I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument. “When the barrier falls, Sombra will come through, and someone needs to keep him occupied until the Heart is brought to Cadance. If we don’t, this whole Empire is done for.”

Twilight’s mouth opened, then closed, her words caught somewhere between protest and understanding. Finally, she nodded, though her reluctance was clear.

“I’ll buy you the time you need,” I said firmly. “The ground floor is clear of traps. Keep an eye out for traps once you find some stairs up. Now go. Find the Heart.”

Twilight hesitated for only a heartbeat longer before she turned, her horn already glowing as she placed Spike onto her back. “Come on, Spike!”

The two of them dashed up the stairs, and toward the castle’s entrance, their figures quickly swallowed by the towering structure of the castle doors as they slammed shut behind them.

I turned back toward the barrier, my silver hand unsheathing Promise. The cold fury that had simmered beneath my skin flared into a deadly calm. But I wanted one last moment before the fury of magic and combat filled my focus. I brought Promise’s pommel to my lips, and planted a tender kiss upon the crescent moon engraved there.

“I’ll come back.”

I looked back over my shoulder. Cadance was slumped against Shining Armor, her breaths shallow but she looked no less determined than when we first stepped off the train. The barrier flickered again, and I could feel the oppressive presence of Sombra testing its limits. His magic pressed against the edges, dark and malevolent, ready to crash down like a tidal wave.

“Cadance,” I called out over my shoulder, drawing her attention. Her eyes, glazed with exhaustion, focused on me. “Hold the barrier for a minute or two more, if you can, then drop the barrier. Don’t force yourself too much. This all falls apart if you pass out and can’t be woken when Twilight and Spike return.”

She nodded weakly. “I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” I turned and began jogging through the crowds of crystal ponies and toward the edge of the barrier. The cold, crystalline street felt like ice underfoot, the distant howling of the storm beyond the barrier growing louder with each step.

The faint sound of wingbeats behind me caught my attention. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. “Noctra,” I said evenly as she landed beside me, her sharp amber eyes narrowing.

“What — in Luna’s name — do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice low but edged with tension.

“There’s been a change of plans,” I replied without slowing down. “Twilight and Spike are going after the Heart. I’m staying to keep Sombra occupied when the barrier drops.”

“You’re going alone?” she asked, her tone incredulous.

I glanced at her, my single hazel eye meeting hers. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

She scoffed. “By the stars you don’t. I’m not letting you face him alone.”

“Noctra—” I began, but she cut me off with a sharp glare.

“Save it, Sebastian,” she said firmly. “You can’t order me to leave you. Not this time.”

My lips pursed at the memory. Last time I ordered her to leave had been a little rough. Her conviction was unshakable, and I knew arguing would waste time we didn’t have. I exhaled through my nose, my breath misting in the cold air. “Fine,” I relented, slowing my pace just enough to match hers. “If you’re staying, you follow my lead.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it any other way,” she replied, a small, humorless smile tugging at her lips.

We reached the edge of the barrier, the magical dome shimmering like a fragile bubble. Beyond it, the storm raged, and within its depths, I could see the faint outline of Sombra’s shadowy form. He was pacing, his glowing red eyes locked on the barrier, a predator waiting for its prey.

I turned to Noctra, pulling another scroll from my Bag of Holding. “I’m casting an Invisibility spell on you,” I said. “Strike if you see an opening — only if you see an opening. If you get caught, I can’t promise I’ll be able to save you.”

Noctra nodded, her expression unreadable. “Understood.”

Reaching out with my left hand, I touched her shoulder and muttered the spell’s words. A faint shimmer surrounded her before she vanished from sight. I stepped back, scanning the area with my enhanced vision to ensure she was truly hidden. The magic had worked; even the Laurel’s floating eyes couldn’t pick her up.

The barrier flickered again, the glow dimming. Cadance’s strength was failing, and the cracks in the magical dome began to spiderweb outward.

“Get ready,” I muttered, tightening my grip on Promise. My cold anger coiled within me, focused and lethal.

The barrier shattered with a resounding crack, and the storm surged inward, bringing with it the oppressive presence of King Sombra.

The storm howled as Sombra’s form emerged, wreathed in tendrils of shadow and malice. His crimson eyes burned through the darkness like twin infernos, and his curved red horn pulsed with dark magic. He strode forward with deliberate steps, the ground beneath him shattering as black crystal erupted in his wake. His twisted smile grew wider as his gaze fell on me.

“Ah, the ape lives,” Sombra said, his voice a deep, oily purr. “A curious creature. No horn, no wings, yet you dare to challenge me? Do you wish for a swift death, or will you beg for mercy?”

I held Promise at the ready, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light. “I didn’t come here to listen to the ramblings of a delusional tyrant,” I replied, my voice sharp and controlled. “I came to put you back in the ground where you belong.”

Sombra’s eyes narrowed, his smirk twisting into a sneer. “Bold words for something so… fragile. Tell me, what are you? Some malformed ape that upstart keeps as a pet?”

“I’m the one who ran you in circles earlier,” I shot back, my lips curling into a tight grin. “Too slow, remember? Or is that little detail too much for your pride to handle?”

His expression darkened, shadows coiling more tightly around him. “You will regret mocking me,” he growled, his tone low and dangerous. “I am King Sombra, rightful ruler of the Crystal Empire. I will crush you and make you watch as I turn your friends into my slaves.”

“You keep calling yourself ‘King’,” I said, taking a measured step forward. “But all I see is a pathetic shadow clinging to the scraps of power you once had. A true ruler wouldn’t need to hide behind dark magic and empty threats. A true king doesn’t need to remind everyone that he is king.”

That really pissed him off.

And with a snarl, his horn flared. A spear of black crystal shot up where I had been standing a split second before. I darted to the side, the Laurel’s all-seeing eyes letting me track his movements even as he tried to flank me with more spears.

“Pathetic,” I taunted, swinging Promise in a slow arc to keep his attention on me. “This is your best? No wonder Luna and Celestia packed your ass up so easily.”

At the mention of Luna’s name, Sombra’s attention snapped to the blade in my hand. His eyes widened slightly as they landed on the crescent moon engraved on the pommel. Then his grin returned, more sinister than before.

“Ah,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “So that’s it. That blade… it bears her mark, doesn’t it? Luna’s pet, are you? I see now why you fight so fiercely.” He stepped closer, his shadows writhing with anticipation. “When I’m done with you, I’ll take your precious princess for myself. She will bow to me, just as the others will. Her sister however…”

A cold fury surged within me, sharp and unyielding. I steadied my breathing, my silversheen fingers gripping at Promise tighter. “The only thing you’ll be taking,” I spat, voice as cold as the storm around us, “is an eternity in oblivion.”

Sombra laughed, the sound grating and full of mockery. “You think you can stop me? You, a crippled, broken thing? I will end you, and your pitiful existence.”

I raised my hand, gathering the arcane within me. The Laurel’s eyes flared, reflecting the swirling energies of the spell I prepared. “Light? Let’s see how you fare against the light,” I said, my voice cutting through his laughter.

My free hand began tracing the familiar patterns of the Summon Monster V spell, my voice low and steady as I channeled the magic.

Five Lantern Archons answered my call, their glowing forms bursting into existence like stars igniting in the night. One of them, its light a soft golden hue, pulsed with recognition.

Eldarael.

The Archon’s airy voice echoed warmly, though tinged with urgency. “Noble One, you have summoned us. We shall aid you against this darkness.”

The five Lantern Archons swarmed around me like radiant fireflies, their illumination cutting through the oppressive shadows. Eldarael floated closest, its light flickering with what I could only describe as righteous determination. The others formed a loose formation, their brightness a stark contrast to the swirling storm and Sombra’s dark presence.

Sombra’s eyes narrowed at the sight, a sneer curling his lips. “You summon wisps of light to challenge me? Fool. They will not save you.”

I smirked, my grip on Promise steady. “They’re not here to save me, Sombra. They’re here to show you the light.”

Before he could respond, the Lantern Archons attacked.

Beams of pure light shot forth from their glowing forms, their rays converging on Sombra with unerring accuracy. His shadows recoiled as the light struck him, burning away the darkness like a flame consuming dry parchment. His snarl of pain was music to my ears.

Sombra retaliated, slamming his hoof into the ground. Black crystal spears erupted toward the nearest Archon, skewering one instantly. Its light winked out and what remained returned to the Plane of Heaven, but the others didn’t falter. Those that remained darted and weaved as they continued their illuminating assault.

Eldarael’s voice rang out, calm and resolute. “Hold formation. Strike true.”

The Archons pressed the attack, their lights strobing as they fired their rays of light again. Sombra roared in frustration, his shadowy tendrils lashing out wildly. He shifted, his body dissolving into a mist-like form to evade the onslaught. But even in this state, the rays of light seared through him, forcing him to reform with a growl of rage.

“You dare?” he bellowed, his voice a thunderclap. “You insignificant insects! I will show you the futility of your defiance!”

He raised his horn high, and the ground beneath us shuddered. Dozens of black crystal spears erupted around him in every direction, a forest of deadly crystalline spikes. The storm intensified, the air thick with malevolent energy.

“Scatter!” I shouted, but I knew it was already too late.

Sombra’s attack was merciless. The spears skewered the Lantern Archons in rapid succession, their lights winking out one by one. Eldarael’s glow lingered for a heartbeat longer than the others, a final pulse of golden light before it too vanished.

The ground beneath my feet cracked, and I barely registered the oncoming spear aimed at me. With a swift thought, I activated Shift, teleporting to the side just as the crystal burst through where I had been standing.

I reappeared, breathing hard, my gaze darting to where Sombra now stood amidst the destruction. The satisfaction in his expression was enough to stoke the cold fire of my anger.

Sombra’s smug grin twisted across his shadowed face as he stepped closer, his armor gleaming in the flickering light of the storm. “Is this the extent of your defiance, cripple?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Do you truly believe you can delay the inevitable?”

I said nothing, the fury burning cold in my veins as I adjusted my grip on Promise. The Laurel’s floating eyes continued their silent vigil, scanning every angle for his next move. My silversheen prosthetic flexed almost instinctively.

Sombra’s laughter echoed over the storm. “You never did say what you. Some malformed minotaur that Luna took pity on? A pitiful pawn sent to oppose me? I—”

The movement was swift, almost entirely imperceptible. Noctra, still under my Invisibility spell, struck like a viper. Her hoofblade gleamed as it aimed for the base of Sombra’s neck, the strike intended to end his life before he could react.

But he did react.

Somehow, some instinct or some dark gift warned him. Sombra’s form dissolved into shadow at the last possible moment, her blade cutting through empty air where his throat had been. He reformed a few feet away, his crimson eyes blazing with fury.

“A clever attempt,” he sneered, his horn already glowing with dark energy. “But futile.”

The spike of dark crystal erupted faster than I could react. It struck Noctra in the throat, her gasp audible even over the howling wind. Blood sprayed as she staggered back, her wings faltering. She collapsed to the icy ground, struggling to breathe. Her eyes locked on mine, wide with pain but still defiant.

“Noctra!” I shouted, the cold rage surging to an inferno within me.

Sombra’s laughter boomed again. “You see? All who stand against me fall. What will you do now, ‘broken one’? Another meaningless spell?”

I didn’t answer. I Shifted.

In the blink of an eye, I was upon him, the golden-green glow of my aura flaring to life as mythic power answered my call. It burned wonderfully, filling me with an overwhelming sense of certainty. My left eye and the Laurel’s eyes glowed with hazel light as I swung my Wizard’s Arm with force beyond what I could muster.

The punch connected squarely with Sombra’s chest plate, the impact cracked his armor and sent him flying back into the storm. He skidded across the crystal covered ground, shadowy mist trailing behind him as he snarled in surprise and pain.

I didn’t waste time reveling in the blow. I dropped to Noctra’s side, her blood gushing from her torn throat and was beginning to pool rapidly beneath her. Her breaths were shallow, her amber eyes dimming. “Stay with me,” I begged as memories of Aldin surged into my mind.

Not again. Please, not again.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Her hoof weakly brushed against my chest, the action was a faint, trembling gesture.

“I’m not losing you,” I said firmly. “Not here.”

With a few whispered words and a surge of arcane magic, I invoked the Teleport spell. The storm, Sombra, and the battlefield blurred into nothingness as the arcane magic whisked us away. My focus burned like a brand, my destination clear: Shining Armor and Cadance at the entrance to the Crystal Castle.

Noctra needed help. Now.

The world snapped back into focus as the shimmering spires of the Crystal Castle loomed above us. Cadance’s barrier was long gone, and she stood only thanks to Shining serving as a living crutch. Shining Armor stood at her side, his eyes widening as I materialized with Noctra.

“Put pressure on the wound!” I barked, my voice sharp and urgent.

Shining Armor was already moving. Cadance shifted, catching herself before she could fall entirely.

“I’ve got her!” Shining shouted, crouching to press his hooves onto Noctra’s throat wound. His face was grim as he worked to stem the bleeding with his hooves alone.

But it wasn’t enough.

Her breath hitched, her body trembling violently. Desperation clawed at my throat. My hand shot through the somatic components, fingers a blur as I chanted another incantation.

I didn’t have time to explain or hesitate. There was barely any time left at all. If I wasted any more—

I cast Summon Monster V, the spell crackling with power as I reached through the planes. The air beside me rippled and shimmered, energy surging like a storm barely contained. A familiar figure materialized — Samir, the Bralani Azata.

His silver-white hair whipped around his face, his lightning-filled eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His scimitar was sheathed, but his presence radiated power all the same. He glanced at me, then at Noctra, and his expression hardened.

“Samir,” I said quickly, the words closer to beginning than a command, “save her. Please.”

His gaze snapped back to me, surprise flashing across his face at my state — the halo of eyes, the prosthetic arm, and more — but thankfully he didn’t stop to ask questions. “On it,” he replied simply.

He knelt beside Noctra, and with a surprisingly level of gentleness moved Shining’s hooves. Samir placed a hand gently over Noctra’s throat, golden light gathering in his palm. He muttered a prayer to the Redeemer Queen, and a wave of healing energy coursed into her. Her breathing steadied, the deep wound closing slightly, but not enough. Smoothly, he repeated the prayer a second time, his divine magic weaving through her broken throat like a golden thread.

Her trembling stopped. The faint rise and fall of her chest grew steady. Color returned to her face, her amber eyes fluttering open briefly before exhaustion claimed her.

“She’ll live,” Samir said, straightening and brushing blood off his hand. “Barely.”

Relief surged through me, but it was short-lived. I could practically feel Sombra’s shadowy presence in the distance, his mocking laughter carrying over the icy winds.

Samir stood, finally taking in our surroundings. His gaze lingered on me again, sharp and questioning. “Last time we met, you looked a lot more... intact. What happened?”

“No time,” I said curtly, hauling myself to my feet while pointing a finger in the direction the laugh had come from. “The short version: that’s Sombra. Genocidal slaver king. Banished a thousand years ago. He’s back, and he’s trying to retake the Crystal Empire and wants to rule over this plane.”

Samir tilted his head, a gleam of excitement sparking in his eyes. “Genocidal slaver king, you say?” He unsheathed his scimitar, the blade crackling with storm energy. “Say less.”

I watched Samir twirl his scimitar, arcs of electricity dancing along its edge as his excitement bled into every movement. The Bralani’s grin stretched wide, his silver hair whipped in the wind like a banner. For him, this was a challenge, a test of skill against a foe he considered worthy. I understand the desire for a challenge very well. I just wish this challenge didn’t put any of my loved ones in danger.

“We have allies securing an artifact to deal with him permanently,” I explained, my voice surprisingly steady. “Our job is to buy them time.”

Samir raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. “An artifact? How unoriginal of you, Sebastian. Still, I’m intrigued. What do I need to know about this Sombra?”

Sebastian.

I never told Samir my name. The last time I had summoned him had been in the heat of battle. That was the only time I had ever summoned him. So how did he…

There’s no time for questions. I would need to look into it on a different day.

I swept my left hand to conjure an illusion in the air, visualizing what I had witnessed so far of Sombra’s abilities. A figure of cracked dark armor and malevolence took shape, crystal spikes erupting from the ground as shadowy tendrils coiled around him.

“He can summon spikes of crystal from his surroundings — sharp, fast, and deadly. He can turn into some kind of shadow form. Makes him hard to hit, though it’s not perfect.” I paused, letting the image shift to show the sinister shadows swirling in the air. “He’s probably got more tricks up his sleeve, but those are the ones I’ve seen. Oh, and he’s easy to taunt.”

Samir’s grin widened at the mention of the shadow form. “A slaver king who thinks himself invincible and gets offended easily? Sounds delightful.” He dismissed the scimitar, letting it dissolve into wind as his form shimmered faintly, the air around him rippling. “I can’t wait to see how he fares against the storm.”

“Wind form?” I asked, already anticipating his answer.

Samir nodded, the excitement in his tone impossible to miss. “A duel of elements. Wind against shadow. A battle written in the stars, wouldn’t you say?”

I ignored his dramatics, focusing instead on strategy. “Fine. You fight him while he’s in his shadow form. Keep him occupied and keep him guessing. If he leaves that form, I’ll strike from a distance with magic. We keep him off balance and buy our allies the time they need.”

“Perfect.” Samir’s form began to dissolve, shifting into a swirling mass of wind and mist, his voice carrying on the breeze. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what happens when shadows try to stand against a hurricane.”

Samir launched forward in his wind form, a tempest of swirling mist and air moving with elysian speed toward Sombra’s looming presence. The shadow king stood in the distance, his cracked armor glinting duller than it once did under the cold light of the sky, the darkness around him pulsing like a living thing.

With an application of the Fly spell, I followed behind Samir.

I stopped atop the roof of a crystal building. I scanned the battlefield with the Laurel’s eyes. I was overlooking an empty courtyard in a residential district. The golden-green glow of my aura bathed the snow capped roof around me. Sombra was far enough away that I had time to observe, to plan, and — when necessary — to strike.

Samir wasted no time in announcing himself. His voice carried on the wind, amplified and distorted in his more gaseous form. “So, this is the great ‘King’ Sombra? You’re shorter than I imagined. I expected more doom and gloom — maybe a crown twice as tall as you are. You’re disappointing me already.”

Sombra’s laughter rumbled through the air, low and mocking. “Another jester? How quaint. Did you think your theatrics would amuse me, spirit? You’ll beg for mercy before the end.”

Samir’s swirling form twisted, a vortex of air slamming into the ground to kick up snow and ice. “Mercy? You’ll have to catch me first, shadow boy!” He darted forward, his wind form surging in an unpredictable dance.

Sombra moved to counter, dissolving into an amorphous shadowy mass that flowed toward Samir with eerie speed. The two collided, shadow against wind, the clash creating an audible crackle of energy. Samir spun through Sombra’s mist, his currents slicing through the dark tendrils, scattering them like smoke in a gale. For a moment, it seemed like Samir’s speed and agility might overwhelm Sombra.

Then, as expected, the shadow king adapted.

Spikes of black crystal erupted from the ground and buildings alike. Spires of darkened crystal that stabbed into the sky and into Samir's path. Samir twisted through the air, dodging effortlessly, his voice ringing out again. “Is that all you’ve got? I’ve seen more impressive parlor tricks from drunk sorcerers!”

Sombra’s shadows coiled tighter, forming a massive shadowy claw that swiped at Samir. The Bralani darted backward, laughing as he taunted, “Ooooh, real scary! I hope you didn’t hurt yourself thinking that one up!”

The fight was mesmerizing, but I stayed focused, watching for my moment. Sombra’s shadowy form was formidable, but Samir’s relentless movement kept him off balance. I knew it wouldn’t last. Sombra’s patience would snap, and he’d try something more devastating to try to end the battle swiftly.

That would be my chance.

It came sooner than I expected. Sombra’s shadows suddenly withdrew as he returned to physicality. His horn flared with dark magic, power coalescing into a massive wave of energy that promised nothing good.

My left hand moved in a precise arc as I whispered the incantation for Conjure Deadfall. A five-foot cube of spiked steel appeared above Sombra, its weight plummeting toward him in an instant. The deadfall struck with a thunderous crash, the impact broke Sombra’s concentration and sent him stumbling across the crystal streets.

The Laurel’s eyes caught every detail as Samir seized the opening. His wind form condensed into a powerful surge, slamming into Sombra with enough force to send him skidding across the courtyard.

For a moment, I thought we had him. But Sombra’s laughter returned, dark and triumphant as he stood. Battered, but not beaten. His horn glowed again, and a disgusting stench of dark magic filled the air. Samir froze mid-motion, his swirling form faltering as his eyes — now bright, glowing green — locked onto me.

I swore under my breath, cold fury bubbling to the surface. Sombra’s voice echoed, taunting me. “Did you think your pet spirit would save you? He’s mine now.”

“He’s not a spirit, dickhead,” I muttered, dismissing Samir with a quick gesture. The Bralani dissolved fully into the wind, returned to his home plane of Elysium. The courtyard fell silent, leaving only the sound of Sombra’s laughter and the cold wind howling around me.

Mind control.

Well, that throws out my plan of flooding the courtyard with summons, and makes the summoning of stronger creatures a gamble not worth taking.

Sombra’s laughter grated on my nerves, but my focus remained sharp. Every move he made, every pulse of dark magic that radiated from his horn, fed into my calculations. He stood arrogantly in the aftermath, the faint glow of his magic dissipating as he straightened. His confidence was infuriating, but I wasn’t here to indulge his ego.

I flexed my Wizard’s Arm, the silversheen gleaming faintly as I began gathering energy. He had underestimated me; that was his first mistake. I wouldn’t give him time to make another.

The words for Amplified Fireball formed effortlessly in my mind. My left hand moved in deliberate patterns, while the Wizard’s Arm mirrored the gestures, its enchanted mechanisms fluid and precise. The incantation came smoothly, the golden-green glow of my aura spilling from the laurel's eyes and my remaining one as the fireball materialized at the tip of my index finger — a brilliant, white-hot sphere of condensed fury.

The fireball streaked forward, a comet of searing heat and light tearing through the air toward Sombra. He responded by summoning a jagged wall of dark crystal from the crystal street at his hooves. The ball of fire collided with the barrier, the explosion scattering shards of molten crystal across the streets.

Sombra laughed again, but the sound was strained. I didn’t stop. My voice rose as I channeled a second fireball, larger and more intense than the first. The fiery orb shot forward, slamming into his freshly summoned crystals. The barrier cracked but held, blackened fissures spiderwebbing across its surface.

“Is that all you have, cripple?” he sneered from behind his shield.

I ignored him. My aura burned brighter as I prepared the third fireball, the sensation of power coursing through me equal parts intoxicating and focused. The laurel’s eyes glowed fiercely, tracking every twitch of Sombra’s movements as I released the spell. The final fireball erupted forward, smashing into the crystal wall with a deafening roar.

The barrier shattered, sending shards flying in every direction. Sombra hesitated, his confident smirk faltering for the first time as he crouched behind the remaining fragments of his shield.

That was my moment. I whispered the incantation for Haste, feeling the surge of energy flood my limbs. Time seemed to slow, my movements becoming swifter and more precise as the spell took hold.

Sombra seemed torn between retreating into his shadow form or standing his ground.

"Second-guessing yourself already?" I muttered, my voice cold and sharp as I stepped off the roof’s edge, the frozen air biting against my skin. The ground rushed up to meet me, but I wasn’t about to give him time to recover.

With a thought, I activated Shift, the golden-green light of my aura flaring as the world blurred around me. In the blink of an eye, I reappeared beside him, my Wizard’s Arm raised, with black light shining from my silversheen arm.

Sombra’s crimson eyes widened as I reached out, the silversheen palm of my prosthetic connecting with the cracked armor over his chest.

The instant the silversheen palm of the Wizard’s Arm touched Sombra’s armor, the Decay surged. Black light, cold and insatiable, poured from the prosthetic, spreading like an inkblot over the cracks in his armor. The dark steel quivered and groaned, its unnatural resilience fighting against the ravenous nature of pure negative energy before succumbing. A spiderweb of fractures spread outward, the once-imposing armor collapsing into blackened dust beneath my hand.

Sombra snarled, his crimson eyes blazing with fury and pain. The Decay didn’t stop at the armor — it seeped into him, his shadowy flesh recoiling as wisps of smoke rose where my touch lingered. His form wavered, the distinct edges of his body beginning to blur as he dissolved into his mist-like shadow form to escape the attack.

"You’ll pay for that," his voice growled from the shifting shadows, an echo of malice reverberating through the courtyard.

The ground trembled beneath me, and I leapt into the air, the Fly spell carrying me upward with ease. Sombra didn’t retreat — jagged spikes of dark crystal erupted from the ground where I’d stood moments before, shooting upward like the teeth of some massive predator. They cracked and splintered against the nearby buildings as they missed their mark, but Sombra didn’t relent.

Spikes erupted from the surrounding buildings, their obsidian edges gleaming as they angled toward me like spears. The Laurel of Vision granted me full awareness of their trajectories, the halo of eyes tracking every shard, every spike, every glint of dark magic as I wove through the air.

The Mage Armor performed well at keeping the crystal fragmentations from peppering me.

I darted to the side, the combined effects of Haste and Fly making me a blur of motion. A sharp turn, a quick Shift, and another spike missed me by inches, grazing the Mage Armor and shattering against the crystalline road below.

Sombra’s shadow form swirled around the courtyard, an amorphous cloud that pulsed with malice. He materialized briefly near the base of one of the crystal spires borne from his attacks, his horn glowing as more spikes erupted upward. I Shifted again, appearing behind him and closing the gap in a heartbeat.

My left hand brought around Promise in a single fluid motion, the blade’s familiar weight and balance at home in my hand. The crescent moon engraved on the pommel gleamed faintly, its light a beacon within the suffocating darkness and the nearly overwhelming stench of dark magic that surrounded me.

I slashed at his shadowy form, the edge of Promise slicing through the shadows. The attack was less about dealing damage and more about driving him back, forcing him to abandon his offensive. I needed him to waste more time. The blade’s silvered edge disrupted his form, and Sombra recoiled, reforming further away.

The laurel’s eyes swirled, tracking every movement, and I felt the cold fire of my aura flare brighter, pushing me forward. Another crystal spike erupted from the ground, but I twisted mid-air, the combined speed of Haste and Fly making the dodge possible.

Sombra’s shadowy form pulsed with anger, his crimson eyes gleaming through the roiling darkness. Another volley of jagged crystal spikes erupted from the ground and surrounding buildings, their sharp edges cutting through the air with murderous intent. My laurel eyes tracked them all, my enhanced speed allowing me to weave through the deadly barrage.

The sharp whistle of a particularly large spike breaking through the air caught my attention. It erupted mere feet below me, its jagged tip aimed directly at my chest. I Shifted reflexively, the world blurring as I reappeared to the side, but another spike jutted from the side of the original.

With no other choice, I tapped into the wellspring of mythical power that coiled around my heart. A burning sensation of exhilaration spread through my body as both my left eye and the laurel’s eyes flared a golden green, blazing like miniature suns. The Wizard’s Arm surged with unnatural strength, and I caught the spike in its silversheen grip just inches from my chest.

The crystal fought against my grasp, vibrating with unnatural force as if it were alive. My silversheen arm strained, the Rapid Repair spell laid deep into the prosthetic flared to counteract the Decay that tried to break free from its restraints. Sombra’s magic surged through the crystal, attempting to throw me off, and it worked — though not in the way he probably intended.

The spike twisted violently, hurling me into the air like a ragdoll. I flew backward, the force sending me tumbling over buildings, and across the courtyard in the direction of Shining Armor and Cadance. The world spun in a blur of shattered crystal and glowing eyes before I crashed into the crystal floor, sliding to a stop just a few feet from the group.

Pain lanced through my sides as I pushed myself onto one knee.

Shining Armor and Cadance were surrounded by crystal ponies, their faces tense as they worked to calm the frightened crowd. Twilight’s friends were nearby, rallying ponies with desperate but determined words. Shining's horn remained encrusted with black crystal, his inability to cast spells evident in the frustrated glare he directed at Sombra.

Twilight and Spike were nowhere to be seen.

I gritted my teeth and planted Promise’s blade in the ground for support, using it to leverage myself upright. The laurel eyes still swirled behind me as they took in every detail of my surroundings.

Malignance.

The word slithered into my consciousness. An accusation that was unbidden and vile.

You are a malignancy that has infected Equis. You do not belong here. You never did. Your existence has only brought ruin, unraveling the destiny this world was meant to follow.

Had you never arrived on Equis, the Elements of Harmony would still exist. They would have stood against Sombra, and crushed him the moment he showed his bastard face. None of this would have played out this way. These ponies wouldn’t be trembling behind me, teetering on the precipice of being cast back into enslavement.

Luna.

Her name shattered the chains of my doubt. A grin slowly grew on my lips.

To hell with Sombra. To hell with the Elements of Harmony. To hell with the sanctity of this world’s fate.

If my existence is a curse upon Equis, I’ll wear it with pride. I am here. And for her, I’ll turn this cursed fate into something worthy of us both.

I’ll hear her say my favorite words again.

But first, it was time for regicide.

I stepped forward, positioning myself between Sombra and everyone else. "Stay behind me," I said, my voice sharp and cold, not waiting for a response.

Sombra’s laughter echoed through the courtyard, a sound that I decided I hated more than anything, at least for now. His shadowy form reared up, twisting unnaturally as his red eyes focused on me.

"You think you can stop me?" Sombra’s voice was like gravel dragged across metal. "Your defiance is—"

His words died in his throat as my Wizard’s Arm withdrew a book from the extraplanar depths of my Bag of Holding. Not just any book — his book, stolen from the heart of his laboratory.

As the tome emerged, an evil aura filled the air. The dark magic embedded within it radiated an almost tangible stench, like oppression and vileness had been given form.

I’d theorized about the book’s importance, and Sombra’s reaction told me everything I needed to know. He froze mid-sentence, his mask of arrogance cracked. I was right. This was no mere notebook.

The book was essential to his plans — a nexus of power that served as both a channel and a reservoir for dark magic. Without it, his road to ascension was severed. He would have to start over, his ambitions reduced to ash in my hand.

Sombra’s crimson eyes flared wide, their glow intensifying with raw, unfiltered rage. “Return that to me!” he bellowed, his voice shaking the air. “You have no idea what you’re tampering with, cripple!”

“Cripple?” I echoed, my tone cold as I rolled the word across my tongue. My left hand spun Promise in a lazy arc, the blade catching glints of light from the laurel’s glowing eyes. “You know, for all your posturing about power, you might want to reconsider your security. I walked into your lab, took this, and left without so much as breaking a sweat.”

“You dare—”

“Six knocks,” I interrupted, my voice cutting through his like a blade. “You should really choose a number that’s not the length of your name. You’ve been playing the long game, haven’t you? Scheming, committing atrocities, building toward something ‘grand’. All hinging on this.” I held the book aloft with the Wizard’s Arm, letting its vile aura ripple outward.

Sombra lunged forward, his shadowy form condensing into a jagged spear aimed straight for me. With Haste still coursing through my veins, I Shifted sideways, the ground cracking where I’d stood an instant before. “Like I said: you’re too slow.” I taunted.

“You insignificant—”

The book pulsed in my silver hand, and the world seemed to slow to a crawl. A whisper crept into my mind, soft and insidious, just like last time. “Finish him and claim what is rightfully yours. Take the power he sought, and rule eternally with Luna as—”

Before the damned thing could finish with its second attempt at corrupting me, I flexed the silversheen fingers of my Wizard’s Arm, gripping the tome as a surge of Decay pulsed through the prosthetic. The dark aura of the book flared in resistance, fighting back against the hungry void of Decay, but it was a losing battle.

Black light seeped from the Wizard’s Arm, tendrils of pure negative energy crawling over the book’s surface like living shadows. Its binding began to crack and splinter, the intricate dark runes etched into its cover flickering like dying embers.

“No!” Sombra roared, his voice raw with panic. His form blurred into a dark wave, surging toward me with murderous intent.

I threw the book to the ground at my feet, watching as its corrupted pages disintegrated under the relentless assault of Decay. “That’s for calling me cripple,” I said, my voice cold enough to freeze the air.

Sombra howled, a primal, guttural sound that reverberated through the courtyard. The crystal ponies shrank back in fear, their murmurs of panic rising despite Shining Armor and Cadance’s efforts to calm them.

His shadow surged upward, forming a massive, clawed appendage that lashed out at me. I brought Promise up to block, the blade flaring with silver light as it met the dark magic head-on. The impact sent a shockwave through the courtyard, and I was forced back a step, my boots skidding against the cobblestones.

“You’ll pay for this!” Sombra snarled, his form twisting into something more monstrous, his anger making him lose his composure. “You think you can destroy my work and walk away unscathed?”

I didn’t answer. My left eye and the laurel’s glowing orbs locked onto him, tracking every movement as I shifted my stance, preparing for the next attack.

But then something unexpected happened. Sombra’s furious expression faltered, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. His gaze drifted past me, his shadowy form flickering as if struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.

Through the eyes of the laurel, I saw it too.

Shining Armor, his horn still coated in black crystal, had picked up Cadance in his hooves. With a determined cry, he hurled her into the air toward a falling Spike. The little dragon had jumped from the top of the castle with the Crystal Heart clutched in his little claws.

Sombra’s face twisted into an expression of absolute horror. “No...!”

Sombra’s book had mentioned his fear of the Crystal Heart. He feared what would happen should the crystal ponies ever reclaimed it. That fear left him wide open.

With a usage of Shift, I teleported in close while he was distracted by his nightmares becoming reality, and drove Promise through his chest with my left hand. He tried to move back, but I grabbed a hold of him by his horn with my silversheen hand.

“Here’s your eternity in oblivion. Just as promised.”

Sombra screamed, a raw and profane sound that reverberated through the air. His shadowy form writhed as I drove Promise deeper. The silversheen of my Wizard’s Arm glowed faintly as I clenched his horn, ensuring he couldn’t escape into the shadows.

“Impossible!” Sombra snarled, his voice fractured and distorted, desperation creeping into his tone. His hooves clawed in vain at my hand, and for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.

It looked good on him.

“You’ve lost, Sombra,” I said coldly, twisting Promise deeper into his chest. His form flickered, his body losing coherence. “Try to die with some dignity.”

Above us, Cadance soared, her wings spreading wide as Spike fell. She caught him, and Spike held on tight as the Heart glowed brighter than the sun itself. The storm clouds began to churn, dissipating as the Heart pulsed with energy.

“No!” Sombra shrieked, thrashing with the desperation of a cornered beast. His shadowy form grew unstable, flickering between solid and ethereal. I tightened my grip, channeling my mythic power. A single use was left now. I would need to rest to refill the wellspring of power fully.

The laurel’s eyes burned, their glow matching the surge of strength coursing through me. My silversheen hand held firm to Sombra’s horn, pulling him a few inches toward me while keeping him locked in place as the first wave of the Heart’s magic began to radiate outward.

“You think this will stop me?!” he howled, his voice rising in a frenzy. “I am King Sombra! I—”

His words cut off as the Heart’s light washed over us, a torrent of pure magic. The wave of energy surged outward, illuminating the entire Crystal Empire in a brilliant, sky-blue glow. The shadows recoiled, burned away by the overwhelming light.

Sombra’s body disintegrated under the power of the Heart, his screams fading into silence. The only remnant of his existence was his curved red and black horn, still clutched tight in my silversheen hand.

The storm broke, sunlight pierced through the dissipating clouds. Above the castle, a radiant aurora blossomed forth, its shimmering lights stretching far beyond the Empire’s borders. I stared up at it, breathless, somehow knowing that Luna would see this from Canterlot.

The silence was deafening after the chaos.

All around me, crystal ponies emerged from hiding, their coats regaining their luster. Tentatively, they began to cheer, their voices growing louder until the air was filled with jubilant cries of victory.

I let my arm fall to my side, Sombra’s horn still in my grip. The cold fire of my anger had burned out, leaving behind the ache of exhaustion. Sombra was dead. His threat was eliminated, but the emptiness in my chest lingered. I hadn’t felt this tired since the day I ascended.

“It’s over,” I muttered, though the words felt hollow.

Noctra approached, her movements still slightly stiff. The fresh scar across her throat caught the light, proof of how close I’d come to losing another friend. Her amber eyes met mine.

“It isn’t done for us yet,” she said, her voice rough but steady.

I nodded. She was right. The celebration was for others — we still had work to do.

There was still the young mare, trapped in her own personal hell.

Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles as we turned toward the castle. Without another word, we headed back inside, descending into the depths of Sombra’s laboratory to confront the ghost that haunted it.

The trek back to Sombra’s laboratory was suffused with a somber stillness. The Crystal Castle's newly luminous halls stretched before us. Cadance’s activation of the Crystal Heart had banished the shadows that had clung to every corner like predators. My footsteps echoed faintly as I carried what remained of Sombra's horn in my silversheen hand.

It was a grotesque trophy, but necessary for what came next.

The laurel's glowing eyes dimmed and vanished as I willed its magic to rest. The world narrowed to my left eye, and I welcomed the simplicity of that singular perspective. I didn't want to see more than what was necessary. Noctra walked beside me, her leathery wings tucked tightly to her sides. Her fur on her throat had been cut from the crystal that nearly killed her. It would take some time for the fur to regrow, and for her voice to return to normal. But the sight of her alive was relieving in ways I couldn’t put into words.

Down there in the laboratory, the nightmare hadn’t changed.

The walls were still lined with crystal pony horns and skeletal wings, polished like macabre art. The stench of suffering clung to the air, and the table at the room's center still bore its stains of misery. My grip on Sombra’s horn tightened.

Then she appeared.

The faint shimmer of the ghost materialized before us. She hovered near the center of the room, her translucent form trembling. Wide eyes, dulled by an eternity of grief, stared at us, her lips quivering as if trying to form words that had been trapped for over a thousand years.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. Her voice carried the fragile weight of a child warning against a danger she couldn’t escape. “He’ll come back… he always comes back.”

I stepped forward, Sombra’s horn in hand. The faint flicker of doubt in the ghost’s expression twisted something in my chest — a pang of sorrow mixed with anger at the monster who had trapped her here.

“No,” I said softly but firmly. “He won’t.”

Her gaze dropped to the horn in my hand, her faint form recoiling as though she could still feel his power radiating from it. I held it out before me in the palm of my Wizard’s Arm. Black light erupted from my silversheen arm, and seeped into the remains of Sombra’s horn.

The Decay was merciless and absolute. The horn crumbled, disintegrating into nothing but a fine gray dust that sifted through my fingers and vanished into the air.

The ghost’s eyes widened, her form trembling as though she couldn’t process what she had just seen.

“He’s… really gone?” she whispered, her voice cracking with disbelief.

“Yes,” Noctra said, her tone steady, though the roughness betrayed the strain of her near-death. “You’re free.”

The ghost hesitated, her shimmering form flickering like a candle in the wind. Her eyes, full of ancient sorrow, turned to me.

“Who… are you?” she asked, her voice small.

I crouched to meet her gaze, ignoring the protests of my exhausted body. “My name is Sebastian,” I said, keeping my tone gentle. “This is Noctra. I’m sorry that we’re not your siblings, but we’re here now. You’re safe.”

She blinked, as if seeing us clearly for the first time. Her gaze lingered on me, her expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “You’re not… like the others.”

I offered a small, weary smile. She was right in many ways. “No. I’m not.”

The ghost drifted closer, her form shimmering faintly in the dim light. “I… I think I was called… Citrine. Citrine Dream.” Her voice broke, tears that couldn’t fall glistening in her spectral eyes.

“That’s a beautiful name,” I said, letting warmth seep into my words. “Citrine, you’ve been so brave. You’ve endured so much. But you don’t have to stay here anymore.”

Noctra stepped forward, her movements slow, as though she feared startling the fragile spirit. “Your siblings… they’ve been waiting for you. They’ve missed you.”

The ghost’s form shuddered, her lips trembling as she glanced around the room, the memories of a thousand years of torment reflected in her expression. “I… I don’t know if I can go.”

“You can,” I said gently. “You’re stronger than you think. It’s time to rest.”

Her gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I saw the spark of hope rekindling in her eyes. Slowly, her form began to glow brighter, the oppressive weight of the room lifting as she gathered the courage to let go.

“Will it… hurt?” she asked, her voice trembling.

I shook my head. “No. It will feel like going home.”

“Home...” A faint, hesitant smile touched her lips as her form began to dissolve into soft, golden light. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

And then she was gone.

The laboratory seemed darker without her, but it was a different kind of darkness — a quiet absence instead of an oppressive shadow. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the ache in my chest sharper now that it was over.

Noctra stood beside me, her amber eyes glistening faintly in the dim light. “You gave her what she needed,” she said softly.

I nodded, though the ache in my chest lingered. “She deserved better. They all did.”

Noctra stood beside me, her presence solid and steady. "What now?" she asked.

I pushed myself to my feet, glancing at the horrors around us. "We make sure none of this remains. None of his work survives."

She nodded, her wings twitching faintly. "Then let’s start."

Return

Noctra and I had set about the task of gathering the dead while the rest celebrated above.

I don’t blame them, it was the right time for celebration after all. The Crystal Empire was now free of Sombra, and the Empire had a new Empress. But I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate, and neither could Noctra. Not after Citrine Dream. So we worked. We gathered what little was left of those slain under Sombra’s tender care.

We only got an hour into it before Cadance and Shining Armor came down, and practically dragged us out of that hellhole. They thanked us, and insisted that they could handle it. They all but ordered that we return to Canterlot as soon as possible.

It felt wrong to leave. There had to be something that I could do to make it all better.

But there wasn’t.

All I could do was leave.

I was tired.

I sat in the train bound for Canterlot. My Wizard’s Arm off, and resting across my lap. I’ve been staring at it since we departed from the Frozen North’s train station. Noctra sat next to me. No words were exchanged between us, because none were needed.

Twilight Sparkle sat with a sleeping Spike leaning heavily against her shoulder. Twilight had apparently sprung some trap that Sombra had set near the Heart. If Spike had not been there with Twilight, then everything would’ve played out different. Probably far more blood would’ve been shed.

We might have lost someone. Most likely more than one.

I glanced at the sleeping dragon in a new light. He was young, but quite brave. When I was his age I wouldn’t have even dreamed of jumping from the top of a castle like he did. That dragon placed a whole lot of faith on Cadance and Shining to catch him. A part of me envied his peace, the kind only youth and a clear conscience could bring.

Twilight Sparkle’s friends were spread throughout the compartment. We were in a personnel compartment that took up the entire carriage. It was far larger than the comparably tiny cabin I had rode in when we were on our way to the Frozen North so many hours ago.

I did not pay any attention to anyone else. I just felt… tired, but I couldn't sleep either.

So I sat.

The steady rhythm of the train moving along the tracks did little to soothe the storm roiling inside me. My Wizard’s Arm rested on my lap, inert and lifeless, its silver fingers curled slightly inward. I kept staring at it, as if the prosthetic arm might hold answers.

It didn’t, of course. Nothing did.

My left hand brushed over the polished surface of the Wizard’s Arm. The room felt heavy, like what had happened in the Crystal Empire had followed us onto the train and refused to let go. Noctra’s near-death replayed in my mind like some cursed memory loop, Sombra’s dark crystal spike glinting with malice and dark magic as it struck. Her gasp, the spray of blood, the way she fell — it all lingered, clawing at the edges of my sanity.

And then there was Aldin.

The hole his death had left in me felt impossibly wide today, as if seeing Noctra collapse had ripped it open all over again. My best-buddy’s final emotions echoed in the silence between heartbeats, the fear, the pain, the nothingness that followed. My hand clenched reflexively around nothing, fingers curling as if they could hold onto something that wasn’t there.

Surprisingly, what lingered most vividly in my mind was the image of Sombra in his final moments. He looked so… scared. In his last breaths, I had mocked him for his fear. He deserved it, I’d told myself — every second of suffering he endured was justice served.

I would do it all again. I didn’t regret a thing.

And yet, his death had brought no joy. There was no sense of triumph, no pride in justice duly dealt. Sombra was dead, and it meant nothing to me beyond the necessity of the act.

I wondered, though: did he feel the way I had when I died?

My mind wandered back to those I had killed before him.

Could the death worm comprehend fear as it died? Did the hydra? Did the heads know what was coming when Aldin dropped the necklace onto them? Did they share Sombra’s terror? Or my own? And the changelings — what ran through their minds in those final moments?

Likely thoughts of their hive. Their fellow changelings. Their queen.

Chrysalis.

Her name resurfaced like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. I’d tried to keep her out of my thoughts, but after Noctra’s near-death, the memories clawed their way back in the silence of the train ride.

Why had she taken Luna’s form? Why did she use Promise to kill me? Why?

Each question brought a phantom ache to the surface — my missing eye, my severed arm. A deeper ache stabbed at my heart, as though mocking me with the irony of my own death — a cruel reflection of the lives I had taken.

The train’s steady rhythm matched the tempo of my brooding as it carried me closer to home. The truth was unchanging, immutable. Killing brought me no joy. No triumph. No closure. It brought only necessity.

If I wanted to build a future with Luna, to keep her and what we hoped to share safe, then more blood would be spilled. Perhaps there would be no end to it.

And still, it was a burden I accepted without any hesitation. Her love was worth any sacrifice.

My eye drifted to my Wizard’s Arm, its silversheen digits glinting faintly. A thought slithered through my mind, dark and foreboding: How would Chrysalis react if I wrapped this hand around her throat and let Decay consume her?

The idea gave me no satisfaction, no catharsis. Only an emptiness that felt boundless.

I closed my eye and exhaled softly.

I just wanted to go home.

“Sebastian,” Noctra’s voice was rough but soft, breaking the silence and my thoughts alike. She didn’t look at me, her eyes still on the window. “We’re almost there.”

I nodded, the motion stiff. Words felt like a chore I wasn’t ready for. I knew she was trying to keep me tethered to the present, and away from the recent past and my brooking. But the weight of it all made it difficult to respond.

The train began to slow as Canterlot came into view, the golden light of evening painting the city’s spires in hues of amber and rose. The sight should’ve been beautiful, but I felt nothing. My heart was locked away, braced for the inevitable crash that I knew would come once the immediate demands of duty were gone.

The station came into view, bustling with activity. I noticed them almost immediately.

Luna stood on the platform, her silhouette unmistakable in the light of day. Her mane shimmered like the night sky itself, stars weaving through its ethereal flow. Mira was draped across her back, half-hidden in Luna’s mane and half-asleep while clutching to Luna’s peytral with tiny hooves.

Celestia was beside them, her golden regalia catching the light as she exchanged a few quiet words with Luna. Her presence radiated an almost motherly warmth and strength, but my focus was solely on Luna and Mira.

Home was in sight.

As the train eased to a stop, I felt something shift. The sight of them — whole, safe, waiting — pushed back the darkness, at least for now. Mira stirred slightly, her sleepy eyes finding me through the window, and a small smile played across her face.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me together for just a little while longer.

The train's hiss of steam as it came to a halt snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. My gaze stayed locked on Luna and Mira as the conductor called for passengers to disembark. The doors creaked open, and Twilight Sparkle stepped out first, her horn faintly glowing to keep Spike securely balanced on her back as he slept on. Her stride was purposeful as she closed the distance to Celestia, her friends close behind her.

Noctra and I followed. Her stride was deliberate and slower than usual. The fresh wound she carried might have been hidden behind her stoic exterior, but I could see its toll in the subtle stiffness of her movements and the faint shadow around her eyes. She would never admit it, but the near brush with death had left its mark.

Dying takes a lot out of you. Nearly dying? Likely the same.

Luna’s gaze found mine the moment I stepped onto the platform. Her poised demeanor softened, and I caught the faintest quiver in her breath as she took a single step toward me. Though she carried herself with a near perfect regal grace, her concern slipped through for just a moment. For a fleeting moment, she saw through me — caught the cracks in my expression before I could fully don the mask of confidence I wore for little Mira’s sake.

I didn't want Mira to see me like that.

Mira, perched on Luna’s back, perked up at the sight of Noctra and I. She scrambled down with the clumsy eagerness of a tired foal and bolted toward me, her small wings flapping as if they’d somehow make her faster. She skidded to a stop just short of colliding with me, her amber eyes wide and shimmering.

She looked exhausted. Just how long had she been awake?

“You came back,” she said, her voice trembling, as if she’d held onto my promise with every ounce of her being.

I crouched down, resting my left hand on her shoulder. “I promised you I would.”

Her little frame launched into me, and I caught her in a one-armed hug. She buried her face against my chest as she grew muffled against my shirt, “I kept them safe. Your glasses.”

“I never doubted you, my little apprentice,” I murmured, holding her tightly.

When she pulled back, Mira fished the Teashades of Night out from beneath her wing, the lenses catching the fading sunlight. She held them out, her expression torn between pride and reluctance.

“Here,” she said as she offered up the shades with a sort of reverence.

I reached out with my left hand but paused, tapping her forehead gently instead. “You keep them a little longer,” I said. “They suit you.”

Her eyes glistened and crossed as they tried to track the tap. A sound escaped her that sounded almost like a squeak. “Really?”

“Really,” I confirmed. “But that means you have to look after them even better now, alright?”

She nodded vigorously, her grip tightening on the glasses as though they were the most precious treasure in the world — a true gift from the Consort of the Moon. Luna approached us then, her gaze softening as it shifted from Mira to me. She didn’t say anything, but the way she smiled said more than words could. Her magic gently tugged me to my feet as she stepped closer.

Her voice was a soothing melody that began to fill the boundless emptiness that had grown during the ride back. “You’ve returned to me, as I knew you would.”

“And you waited for me,” I replied, unable to keep the emotion from creeping into my voice. What had followed me all the way back from the Crystal Empire eased a little in her presence, her proximity was something I desperately craved.

Mira dashed to Noctra, who stood a few feet away. The captain of the Lunar Guard, known for her unshakable demeanor, bent slightly as Mira collided with her legs. Noctra’s leathery wings curled protectively around the foal, and for a moment, her stoic mask fell away, replaced by a rare, fleeting smile. Mira’s excited, relieved chatter spilled forth in a flurry, and Noctra’s eyes softened, her focus entirely on her child.

The sight brought a bittersweet ache to my chest. Seeing Mira so full of life, so trusting — it reminded me of why I fought so fiercely, why I endured. Yet, her energy and innocence brought Citrine Dream to mind. The mare who hadn’t been nearly as fortunate.

Luna’s wing brushed lightly against my shoulder, a gesture that brought me back from the dark labyrinth of memory. Her touch anchored me, her presence reminded me that I didn’t need to carry this weight alone. “Shall we?” she asked, nodding toward the castle glowing under the noonday sun.

I turned to meet her gaze. In those eyes I found understanding. She always saw through me, straight to the heart of whatever I tried to hide. Her insight was unnerving yet intimately comforting, a constant tether to something greater than the storm of emotions that clawed at my sanity.

I nodded.

“Yeah,” I agreed, my voice coming out far quieter than I intended.

As we stepped away, Mira called out behind us, her voice bright and teasing in spite of the exhaustion that was beginning to tinge her tone. “Don’t stay up too late talking, okay?”

Luna chuckled, a sound so soft yet full of warmth that it chased away the remnants of the Frozen North’s cold within me. “We’ll try, little one.”

We departed from the station before anyone else. Our walk to our chambers was filled with a companionable silence. The city around us faded into a muted blur, its hum of life a distant backdrop to the singular presence at my side.

When we reached our chambers, the door closed behind us with a soft click. Luna lingered, her eyes steady on me. She didn’t speak, waiting for me to find my words.

The silence was soothing. If I strained my ears then I could faintly hear the distant rhythm of life in the castle. I exhaled slowly, releasing the weight that had clung to me since I first stepped foot back in the Frozen North.

“It’s good to be home,” I murmured, my eye locked with hers.

Luna’s lips curved faintly in the softest of acknowledgments. She stepped closer, her movements languid yet graceful. Her wings shifted, folding tightly against her sides as she guided me toward the bed without a word.

The mattress gave slightly under my weight as I sat, the exhaustion clawing at me finally given permission to settle. Luna’s magic flared briefly, the soft glow of her horn pulling the room’s curtains shut, dimming the noon light that dared to intrude on our perfect sanctuary. The room felt warmer, quieter, a world removed from everything beyond its walls.

The complete opposite of the Frozen North.

Her regalia came next, each piece removed with care. The silver shoes were placed gently aside, the black peytral and crown following. Each action was slow, almost ritualistic, as though shedding these symbols of her station allowed her to step fully into the moment with me. Without the adornments, she looked… softer. More like the Luna I knew in quiet moments than the Goddess of the Night revered by so many.

Her eyes met mine again, and she crossed the small space between us. She climbed onto the bed and pulled me into her embrace, her forelegs wrapping around my shoulders. Her coat smelled of lavender and the crisp, cool air of night. She smelled like home. She was home. I leaned into her, my cheek pressing against the curve of her neck as her wings curled protectively around me.

“You came back to me,” she murmured, her voice barely louder than a breath. There was no accusation, no judgment, just a quiet sort of relief that settled into my bones like the cure to every fear I ever knew.

“I told you I would,” I replied, my voice just as low. My left hand found the scar along her back, brushing over the hidden mark with reverence. Her warmth seeped into me, chasing away the lingering chill of the Frozen North.

We stayed like that for a while, tangled together in silence. It was enough — her presence, the steady rise and fall of her chest against mine, the gentle beat of her heart against mine.

Eventually, her voice broke through the quiet. “Something is troubling you.”

I stiffened, the memories I’d been trying to bury threatening to rise again. The images of Noctra, bloodied and desperately trying — and failing — at breathing; Citrine Dream, trapped in her personal hell. They were all woven together in a tapestry of guilt and loss that refused to unravel.

Luna’s hoof brushed against my scarred cheek, pulling me back to the present. Her eyes searched mine, but she didn’t press further. She simply held me tighter.

Luna’s gentle insistence loosened something in me. The knot of tension I’d been holding onto so tightly began to unwind, even if only slightly. Her hoof trailed down my arm, finding my hand and guiding it to rest against her scarred chest. Her heartbeat was steady beneath my palm, grounding me in the here and now.

“I spent the night with Mira,” she said softly, her tone light but warm. “She was quite determined to keep me company, though I suspect she may have been keeping herself occupied as much as me.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips, in spite of the storm that churned in my mind. “Did she behave?”

Luna chuckled, the sound like a lullaby. “Oh, she was a perfect lady — for the most part. She practically demanded that I teach her about the constellations, as you once often did. I must admit, she is as eager a student as you.”

I closed my eye, the image of Mira’s wide-eyed wonder as she soaked in Luna’s knowledge flickering through my mind. It was easy to picture, and for a moment, it further dulled the edges of my frayed nerves.

“And then,” Luna continued, “she introduced me to a most peculiar pastime. A game involving chutes and ladders. A strange concept, though I admit… I found it surprisingly enjoyable. Mira was rather ruthless in her victories.”

I chuckled softly, the sound surprising even myself. “She always is. She has a competitive streak a mile wide.”

“That she does,” Luna agreed, her voice carrying a fondness that mirrored my own. “She reminds me of you in that way. Though I fear I may have fueled her ego when I let her win the final match.”

“You let her win?” I asked, raising a brow and pulling back slightly to meet her gaze.

Luna smirked, her expression mischievous. “It was only fair after she bested me three times in a row.”

The laughter that escaped me was unbidden but welcome, breaking through the heaviness in my chest. Luna’s eyes sparkled at the sound, her lips curving into a smile that made the room feel brighter despite the drawn curtains.

“She asked about you,” Luna said after a moment, her tone softening. “She wanted to know when you would return. I told her you would come back as soon as you could.”

My chest tightened. The thought of Mira waiting, trusting so completely that I would return, was paradoxically both a comfort and a weight. “She doesn’t deserve to worry like that,” I murmured.

“She’s stronger than you give her credit for,” Luna replied, her hoof brushing against my cheek again. “She knows how much you care for her, as do I. And she knows you would move mountains to keep her safe.”

I exhaled slowly, the tension creeping back. Luna’s words were kind, but they didn’t erase the memories — Noctra’s near death, Citrine’s sorrow-filled gaze, and the shadow of Aldin that had turned from lingering to looming.

Her wing curled tighter around me, pulling me closer. “Whatever it is,” she said quietly, “I am here, my love.”

The sincerity in her voice cracked something deep within me. I rested my forehead against her shoulder, her warmth a comforting reminder of all I needed to say.

“I’ll tell you,” I whispered after a long pause, my voice low but steady. “About everything. About what happened in the Crystal Empire.”

Luna’s embrace didn’t falter, her silence urging me on without pressure. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. The words were there, just waiting to be spoken. It was time.

I began slowly, the words tumbling out rough and uneven, like an unsteady stream breaking through a dam. “When we arrived at the station in the Frozen North… Sombra had already been there. The ponies who lived and worked there were slaughtered. We found some signs that a few might’ve escaped into the frozen wastes, but there wasn’t time to search for them, and I doubt any survived. Not with Sombra lurking in the storm that surrounded the Empire.”

Luna’s wing shifted, and began to brush circles into the small of my back. The sensation soothed me even as my mind drifted back to the horrors we had seen. Her silence was patient, her presence steady. It gave me the strength to continue.

“Inside the supply depot… there were three ponies. Dead. Skewered by crystals. He — he butchered them.” My voice faltered, and I felt her hoof press gently against my chest. “We had to keep moving. Sombra was waiting for us in the storm, but we managed to break through the storm, and Cadance put up a barrier to hold Sombra at bay while Noctra and I searched the castle.”

I paused, trying to summon the will to relive what came next. Luna’s forelegs tightened around me, her quiet support unwavering.

“We found his laboratory hidden under his throne room,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper now. “It was a tomb. The walls were lined with horns, Luna. Crystal unicorn horns. And wing bones from crystal pegasi. All of them. Every last crystal unicorn and pegasus — dead.”

Luna inhaled sharply, her body tensing beneath my touch. She didn’t speak, but the weight of her reaction hung in the air between us.

“There was a table,” I continued. “It was… stained. And a desk with just one book. It held his plan. A theorem for some kind of ascension — an ascension that required the death of either you or Celestia, along with the use of the door in the Crystal Mountains.”

Her silence grew heavier, her heartbeat quickening under my hand. I looked up at her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with something between sorrow and fury.

“I destroyed it,” I said firmly, gripping at her chest as if to anchor us both. “I figured out how to weaponize Decay, and I turned it to dust. Whatever madness he planned to unleash, it’s gone now.”

She exhaled, her tension easing slightly, though her wings remained wrapped tightly around me.

“But it wasn’t just the relics of his cruelty we found,” I said after a moment. “There was… a ghost. Her name was Citrine Dream. She was a young crystal unicorn — barely an adult. Sombra tortured and killed her over a thousand years ago.”

Luna’s lips parted, her expression softening into something indescribably tender. “A ghost?” she murmured, her voice full of quiet sorrow.

“She thought Noctra and I were her younger sisters,” I said, my throat tightening. “She didn’t realize we weren’t — she was so lost in her pain, her fear, that she couldn’t see anything else. Not until the Crystal Heart was activated and Sombra was finally killed.”

Luna brushed her hoof along my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “And then?” she asked gently.

“And then… we helped her pass on. I couldn’t stop thinking about her — how much she reminded me of Mira. How young she was, and how much she’d suffered.” My voice broke, and I pressed my face into Luna’s shoulder. “We helped her, but… it didn’t feel like enough.”

Luna held me tightly, her muzzle resting against my hair. Her silence offered a comfort that words couldn’t convey.

I took another shaky breath, knowing there was more. “During the fight with Sombra, Noctra… she was stabbed in the throat. I thought she was going to die, Luna. For a moment, I saw Aldin. I felt it all over again. But I managed to save her. Samir saved her. I need to thank him for that.”

Luna’s hoof pressed gently against the back of my head, her voice barely audible. “She survived, my love. You saved her just as much as he did.”

I nodded against her, the memories still too vivid, too raw. “I couldn’t lose her. Not her too.”

“You didn’t,” Luna said, her voice soft but firm. “You didn’t.”

The quiet that followed was heavy but not suffocating. I could feel her strength, her understanding, even as my own emotions churned within me. For the first time since I’d returned, I felt like the emptiness receding.

In her loving embrace, I began to drift. Sleep almost claimed me.

But then Luna began to speak.

Her voice was low, almost distant, as if she were speaking more to herself than to me. “I still remember the cold of the Frozen North, how it seeped into every bone. The monsters pouring from the portal were endless, their howls echoing through the mountains. We fought for days, my sister and I… and yet, we argued on.”

I stirred, forcing myself out of the haze of near-sleep. Her words carried an edge that pulled me fully awake. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Luna’s wing curled around me tighter, and she sighed, her breath warm against my hair. “A thousand years ago, before everything fell apart, my sister and I faced incursions from the Frozen North. Monsters we had never encountered before came in droves, pouring out of a portal in the Crystal Mountains. We managed to seal the portal with a door, but it was not without cost. The battles were grueling, and while our guards fought bravely, the cost of their lives haunted us both.”

She paused, her gaze distant, and I could tell she was reliving it all. I didn’t interrupt.

“That was the first time my sister and I truly disagreed,” Luna continued, her tone heavy. “I insisted we focus on the portal. If we didn’t seal it, the monsters would keep coming, and would attack us while we dealt with Sombra. It was our duty to Equestria to stop them at their source with utmost haste. But my sister… she believed Sombra was the greater threat. She argued that his evils had to be stopped first. She didn’t know what he was planning, but she was certain it would be catastrophic.”

I could feel the tension in her body as she spoke, as if the weight of that long-ago argument still lingered. “And so, we argued,” she said softly. “For days, while our guards fought and died, we bickered like foals. By the time we turned our attention to Sombra, it was too late. He already had his curse ready to vanish the Crystal Empire into the ether, should he lose against us.”

Her voice cracked, and I reached up, placing my hand gently on her cheek. She leaned into the touch but didn’t stop speaking. “If we had acted sooner… if we hadn’t been so consumed by our disagreement, perhaps the Empire wouldn’t have vanished. Perhaps Citrine Dream would’ve been able to live her life fully.”

“You did what you thought was right,” I said quietly.

She opened her eyes and looked down at me. “But was it right, Sebastian? My choice… it divided us. It cost us precious time. Time that Sombra needed to enact his curse. The Crystal Empire was lost for a thousand years. And all because we quarreled like foals.”

The bitterness in her tone struck me harder than her words. I sat up slightly, meeting her eyes. “What happened back then wasn’t your fault, Luna. You and Celestia both had impossible choices to make, and no knowledge of Sombra’s true plans. You both did what you thought was right.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away. “I wonder,” she said softly. “My sister saved one member of the Crystal Empire’s royal bloodline before the Empire vanished. A single life that led to Cadance. Perhaps… perhaps she had seen the greater picture when I did not.”

Her admission hung heavy in the air, but I wouldn’t let it go unchallenged. “You were protecting Equestria,” I said firmly. “I would have done the same.”

She turned back to me, her expression searching. “Would you?”

I nodded without hesitation. “Yes. Because it wasn’t just about the portal or the monsters or Sombra — it was about doing what you believed was best. That’s what you’ve always done, Luna. You act from your heart, and that’s why so many of us trust you.”

Her eyes softened, the shadows in them easing just a fraction. “Even if it meant delaying our fight against Sombra?”

I reached up, brushing a stray lock of her mane away from her face. “Even then. You couldn’t have known what he would do. No one could have known.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her gaze locked on mine. Then she exhaled softly, her wing curling around me once more. “Perhaps. But looking back now… I cannot help but think that my sister was right. We should have stopped him first.”

Her words were a quiet confession, tinged with a sorrow that ran deeper than I could fathom. I tightened my hold on her, resting my head against her shoulder. “If I’d been there, Luna, I would’ve stood by your side. Not because I thought it was the perfect choice, but because I’d have believed in you.”

She leaned into me. “You are too kind to me, my love.”

“No,” I said simply. “I just know you. I trust you.”

For a while, neither of us spoke, the silence wrapping around us like a protective cocoon. In that moment, the weight of the past seemed to lessen, even if just a little, and I felt the tension in her muscles ease as she held me close.

Her steady breaths brushed against my hair, her scent of lavender and cool night air wrapping around me like a familiar blanket. I closed my eye, allowing myself a moment to simply exist in her presence. She was my sanctuary, the one place where the wounds of my soul didn’t feel like gaping chasms.

“I thought it would help,” I murmured, my voice breaking the quiet. She shifted slightly, her gaze sliding to meet mine. “Killing him. Sombra. I thought it would make me feel better.”

Her wing tightened around me, her silence encouraging me to continue.

“It didn’t.” The admission felt raw, scraped from somewhere deep within. “Even when I struck him down, even when I watched him burn away to nothingness, it didn’t help. All I could think about was how much I wanted to go home. All I wanted was to hear you say you loved me again. That was all that mattered.”

Luna’s expression softened, a sadness lingering in her eyes that mirrored my own. She lowered her head, her muzzle brushing against my temple in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “Sebastian…”

Her voice was steady, but I didn’t let her finish. My hand moved gently over her chest, resting just above the scar that marked the place she’d nearly lost everything — where Celestia’s blade meant to kill her had failed. She once told me it was her reminder of the last battle they fought before she was banished to the moon. To me, it was a testament to her strength, her will to survive.

How close she had come to death before we ever even met.

Lifting my head, I pressed my lips to that scar, just as I had before. Her breath caught, a subtle shiver running through her as my kiss lingered there. I felt her heartbeat beneath my lips, steady and unyielding. This was why I placed myself into danger, why I survived those dangers.

For her. For these precious moments.

When I pulled back, her gaze was already on me, her cyan eyes soft but burning with something deeper — something only meant for me. Her mane, a shimmering cascade of stars, shifted around us as if drawn by her emotions, brushing my cheek like a caress.

“Luna,” I said, my voice low. “When everything feels broken… when I feel broken… you make it right.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, one that reached her eyes. “It is not I alone who does this,” she whispered. “We mend each other.”

Her wing drew me closer, and I melted into her warmth, my head resting against her chest now. The rhythm of her heart, steady and strong, was my anchor. My rock. My hand moved idly along her side, tracing the curve of her side with slow, tender motions. I loved how her breath hitched when I touched her, how she leaned into my affection as if she couldn’t help herself.

I murmured, “I’ll never stop loving you.”

Her hoof came to rest lightly against my arm, her touch deliberate and soft. “I should hope not,” she teased, her tone light, but her eyes betrayed the depth of her emotions. “For you are the keeper of my heart.”

Her words sent a quiet thrill through me, one I didn’t bother hiding. She always had a way of cutting straight to the core of me, of saying something simple yet profound. My response wasn’t in words but action — I nuzzled closer to her, inhaling her scent and letting it wash away any lingering doubts.

“Sebastian,” she said softly, her voice carrying that musical lilt that always seemed to echo in my soul. “I love you.”

I closed my eye, letting those three words settle over me. “Say it again.”

Her chuckle was warm, vibrating through her chest. “I love you.”

I opened my eye to meet hers, my voice thick with sincerity. “Those are my favorite words.”

Her expression softened even further, and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Then I shall speak them as often as you wish, for they are true.”

And in that moment, there was no Sombra, no scars, no regrets — just her, me, and the love we shared.

Prestidigitation

Mira was improving faster than I anticipated, though her impatience was beginning to show.

We were seated in the castle library, surrounded by a sea of books and scrolls stacked into precarious towers of knowledge. Tonight’s lesson focused on the continuation of reading magic — a discipline I considered the cornerstone of any spellcaster’s growth.

Mira, however, was less convinced.

She never outright complained; Noctra had instilled far too much discipline into her for that. Instead, her frustration crept in through subtler means: the way she slouched slightly in her chair as her teashades slid further down the bridge of her nose or the faint dip in enthusiasm as she repeated the same incantation from the Prestidigitation scroll. Her tone had lost its spark, each word sounding more like obligation than curiosity.

I glanced at the towering stacks of books and scrolls that surrounded us, the vast collection of knowledge loomed like silent sentinels over her small frame. Her persistence was admirable, but it was clear she craved more. Maybe it was time to let her do more than just read about magic. I would hate to drown her passion for the arcane with minutiae.

“Perhaps,” I murmured, setting my quill down, “it’s time to shift gears.”

Mira perked up, her eyes peeking over the violet lenses with a mixture of hope and curiosity. A change of pace might be exactly what she needed.

Fortunately, Mira by this point has the incantations down for Prestidigitation. We just had to work out the somatic aspects.

I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking softly under the motion, and gave Mira a small smile. "You've got the words memorized. Now it's time for the fun part: making it happen."

Mira blinked, pushing her teashades back up her snout with a hoof. Her ears swiveled forward, and the faint glimmer of hope in her expression grew brighter. "You mean... actually casting it?"

"Exactly," I said. I reached out, picking up the scroll she’d been studying and setting it aside. "We’ll work on the motions together. It might take a while, but trust me, it's worth it."

Her grin returned, eager and full of life. She scrambled to sit up straighter, her posture snapping from bored slouch to focused student. I felt a pang of pride at her determined eagerness — not unlike how I imagined a parent might feel watching their child take their first steps. The thought lingered before I pushed it aside.

"Let’s start with the basics," I said while raising my left hand. "The somatic components for Prestidigitation are simple in theory but tricky in execution. It’s all about intent. execution, and practice. Follow my movements carefully, and we’ll see what feels natural to you."

I began to slowly demonstrate the gestures, my fingers gliding through the air in fluid arcs. Mira leaned in close, her amber eyes locked on my hand as if committing every twitch of my fingers to memory. Her small hooves rose hesitantly as she attempted mimicking my motions with surprising precision. The first attempt was stiff and filled with doubt, her movements lacked the fluidity needed to cast magic effectively, but it was a solid start.

"Not bad," I encouraged. "But you’re overthinking it. Arcane magic isn’t just about execution and knowledge — it’s about confidence. Relax, Mira. Let your magic flow with your movements."

She nodded, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated harder. I couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sight.

For the next several minutes, we worked together, adjusting the angles of her hooves and refining the rhythm of her gestures. Occasionally, I’d reach out to guide her, my left hand over her hoof to demonstrate the proper form. She caught on quickly, though frustration flared when an attempt didn’t go as planned. Each time, I’d remind her that every wizard struggles — a truth I knew all too well.

"Think of it this way," I said, after her latest attempt faltered. "Magic is like art. If the incantation is the paint, then your gestures are the brush. Together, they create something beautiful. But forcing it will only muddy the picture."

Her expression softened at that, and she nodded again, more at ease now.

As the minutes ticked by, Mira’s movements grew smoother and more confident. The air in the library seemed to hum faintly, a subtle shift that signaled the first stirrings of magic taking shape. I felt the familiar tug of excitement — it was a similar feeling I’d experienced the very first time I managed to cast a spell.

All that time ago in the now dilapidated Castle of the Two Sisters.

Finally, after nearly an hour of practice, Mira’s hooves moved as she recited the incantation one last time. A spark of energy flickered at the tip of her hoof, and then—

A tiny, glowing wisp of light appeared. It flickered and hovered for a moment before stabilizing, throwing off a soft golden glow that illuminated Mira’s awestruck face.

Her jaw dropped while her wide amber eyes reflected the tiny wisp of light she’d just conjured. The little wisp was little more than a mote of light that threw off a fraction of the light a single candle could. But it was glorious nevertheless.

"I... I did it," she whispered, her voice trembling with wonder.

"You did," I said, my chest swelling with pride. "Congratulations, Mira. You just cast your first spell."

Mira stared at the tiny light, her awe giving way to unrestrained glee. She clapped her hooves together, her leathery wings fluttering so hard she nearly toppled out of her chair. The light wavered for a moment but steadied again, as if responding to her excitement.

"Look, look!" she squealed, holding her hoof toward the tiny light like it was the most precious treasure in the world. "It’s so shiny! I did magic! Real magic!"

“You did,” I repeated with a chuckle, leaning back and letting my smile grow as I watched her revel in her success. “And you did a good job at it too.”

Her grin turned mischievous, and she turned her attention back to the glowing wisp. "Can I do more? What else can I make?"

"Prestidigitation does have its limits," I said, though her enthusiasm made it hard to rein her in. "Start small. You can shape it a little, maybe try changing its color or making it move. The trick to most magic is to stay focused."

Mira nodded furiously and squinted at the light, her tongue sticking out in concentration. The golden hue began to shift, softening into a vibrant, shimmering blue. She let out a triumphant laugh as it changed again, cycling through colors like a kaleidoscope.

"Look, it’s a rainbow! I’m a rainbow-maker!"

Her joy was infectious, and I found myself laughing alongside her. The light bobbed and weaved under her direction, circling her head before zipping over to me and landing on the tip of my nose. Then, she turned it bright red. She giggled uncontrollably as I feigned surprise, crossing my eyes to stare at the glowing orb.

"Impressive," I said while giving the orb a mock squeeze and making a honking noise before it drifted back to her. "You’re a natural, Mira."

She puffed out her chest proudly, though her focus remained glued to her creation. It flickered once, and she frowned in frustration, scrunching her muzzle as she steadied it again.

“Don’t worry if it falters,” I reassured her. “Failure is an essential part of learning. Even experienced wizards sometimes have spells that go awry — especially in the heat of battle.”

"Like when you accidentally turned that book purple last week?" she quipped, her amber eyes glinting with playful teasing.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “I did that on purpose. To show you a little bit of what Prestidigitation could do.”

"Sure you did," she replied, giggling as the light finally winked out.

I tapped a finger on the table, the warmth of her joy settling deep in my chest. “Tell you what — how about we call it a night?”

Her ears flattened, and she gave me a wide-eyed pout that could have melted a heart of stone. “But I just started getting good!”

“I know,” I said, raising my hand to forestall any further protests. “Which is why I think we should celebrate your first spell.”

Her ears perked up instantly, the disappointment forgotten in an instant. “Celebrate? How?!”

I pretended to consider for a moment, tapping my chin. “What about a trip to Donut Joe’s? I hear his new partner’s taken over for the night shift, and they’ve got fresh donuts until sunrise.”

Mira’s wings flared out in excitement, and she practically bounced out of her chair. “Yes! Yes! Donuts! Can I get the chocolate one with the sprinkles? No, wait — the one with the jelly filling! Or maybe both?!”

I chuckled as I stood tall and dusted off my cloak. “We’ll see. Go grab your cloak, Mira. It’s a little chilly tonight.”

She was already halfway to the door, her little hooves clicking against the polished floor. “I’ll be right back!”

As Mira rushed off, I lingered by the table. My gaze drifted to the spot where her wisp of light had been. The warmth in my chest deepened into a quiet yearning that I couldn’t quite name. Mira’s boundless energy and joy whispered to me. Solidifying in my mind the idea of everything I’d never known I wanted.

Luna’s face flashed in my mind, her soft smile and the way her eyes lit up whenever she watched Mira play. I rubbed the back of my neck as I pushed the thought aside.

Mira burst back into the room, her oversized cloak trailing behind her like a miniature cape. “I’m ready! Let’s go!”

I grinned, reaching out with my left hand. “Hold on tight.”

She latched onto my hand, her wings fluttering with excitement. With a murmured incantation, I cast Teleport, and the comforting walls of the library were replaced by the chilly winds of the street outside of Donut Joe’s.

The golden glow of Donut Joe’s spilled out onto the cobblestone streets of Canterlot at night, carrying with it the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked donuts. As the cheerful ding of the bell announced our arrival, the soft hum of chatter wrapped around us like an old friend.

Mira inhaled deeply, her eyes widening in delight behind her violet shades. “It smells so good!” she declared, her wings fluttering with excitement.

“Then we’re in the right place,” I replied, guiding her toward the counter.

Behind the counter stood a thestral mare with a dusky coat and bright blue eyes. She smiled warmly as we approached. “Consort, Mira,” she greeted, her voice honeyed and welcoming. “Out for a treat tonight?”

Mira nodded so enthusiastically I was surprised her head didn’t fall off. “I cast my first spell! Sebastian said we’re celebrating.”

The mare’s grin widened. “Your first spell? That’s incredible, Mira. Congratulations! So, what’ll it be?”

Mira’s excitement spilled out in her rapid response. “The chocolate donut with sprinkles — and a jelly one too!”

I chuckled, unable to resist her enthusiasm. “Both it is. And two milkshakes. What flavor, Mira?”

“Mango!” she declared with absolute certainty.

“Mango it is,” I replied as I handed over the bits.

As the mare prepared our order, Mira hopped onto a stool at the counter, her legs dangling as she leaned forward. Her teashades slipped slightly, and she nudged them back into place with a quick push of her hoof, her expression so serious it was absolutely adorable.

“You’re picking up the basics of the arcane quickly, Mira,” I stated as I settled onto the stool beside her. “Soon the only barrier between you and the Lunar Guard will be age. Although I don’t think you ever needed magic to make it in the Guard.”

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned toward me, her excitement etched into every inch of her features. “Do you think so? Do you think I’ll be as good as Mom someday?”

I smiled, the image of Noctra’s stoic face briefly flashed in my mind. “I think you’ve got the same determination she does. And maybe a bit more flair.”

Mira giggled, swatting at my arm with her hoof. “Mom doesn’t need flair. She’s already super cool.”

“True,” I said, nodding solemnly. “But you’ve got something she doesn’t.”

She tilted her head, curious. “What?”

“Rainbow wisps,” I replied with a smirk. “And teashades.”

She burst into laughter, her wings flapping so hard that the stool wobbled beneath her. I reached out instinctively to steady her, earning a sheepish grin as she settled down.

The thestral mare returned, setting the tray in front of us. Two mango milkshakes with whipped cream and cherry toppers, a chocolate-sprinkled donut, and a jelly-filled one sat in perfect, sugary glory. Mira’s eyes sparkled like the stars outside, and she dove in with the kind of fervor only a child could muster. She started with the chocolate donut, making quick work of it, sprinkles scattering onto the counter.

I sipped at my milkshake, watching her with a faint smile. “Slow down, Mira. The donuts aren’t going anywhere.”

She swallowed and grinned at me, powdered sugar clinging to her muzzle. “I can’t help it. They’re so good!”

I grabbed a napkin and leaned over, dabbing at her face. “You’re wearing more of it than you’re eating.”

She giggled, pushing my hand away. “That’s how you know I’m enjoying it!”

As Mira reached for the jelly donut, I found myself imagining another little one. Perhaps with Luna’s dark coat and luminous cyan eyes, sitting beside her, laughing and sharing in moments just like this one. The thought hit me unexpectedly, and settled in my chest with a quiet ache I couldn’t fully comprehend.

Mira brought me out of the thought by showing me the donut when she found the first bite filled with jelly. “Look! It’s pink! I didn’t know it’d be pink!”

“Surprise jelly,” I said with mock seriousness. “Truly, a mystery for the ages.”

She giggled again, her joy infectious. “You’re funny, Sebastian.”

“Don’t let Luna hear you say that. She’ll never believe you.”

Mira tilted her head, her expression turning thoughtful as she sipped her milkshake. “Do you think I’ll ever be as strong as her? Or as smart as you?”

The question caught me off guard, but I managed a soft smile. “I think you’ll be exactly as strong and as smart as you’re meant to be. You’ve already got the heart for it, and that’s the most important thing.”

She beamed at me, her face sticky with jelly and sugar, and for a moment, I couldn’t look away. There was something so pure, so full of potential, in that gaze of hers.

As she returned to her donuts, my mind wandered. I thought of Luna again, of the way her laughter could fill even the quietest moments with life. Mira was so much like Noctra, so full of spirit and determination. I allowed myself to wonder — just for a moment — what it might be like to have a child of my own with Luna.

The thought lingered, warm and strange, but I pushed it aside as Mira nudged me with her hoof. “Hey, Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really good at celebrating,” she said, her eyes sparkling behind the lenses of her teashades. “We should do this more often.”

I laughed, ruffling her mane gently. “Deal. But next time, you’re paying.”

She gasped in mock horror, her wings flaring. “What?! But I’m just a filly!”

“Exactly,” I said, grinning. “Plenty of time to save up.”

Mira pouted, but the effect was ruined by the milkshake mustache she’d acquired. We finished our treats in companionable silence, the warmth of the shop wrapping around us like a soft blanket.

Tonight, at least, everything felt perfect.

Inquiry

Samir knew my name.

The revelation had unsettled me, planting within me seeds of doubt and suspicion that could not be ignored. The implications were staggering, each question cascading into another, forming a labyrinth of uncertainties. None of these questions could be answered by anyone on Equis, nor could they be left to fester lest they potentially grow into a threat. So, I did what any self-respecting wizard would do: I prepared a spell.

More specifically, Planar Inquiry.

With a sack of gems in hand, I descended into the castle’s dungeon once more. The air was thick and damp, tinged with a stale bitterness that always left an unpleasant taste in my mouth. The dungeon’s solitude would mask my actions and ensure no trace of my location leaked to the being I intended to summon.

I hated this place. Yet, it was ideal.

Walking through the dim corridors brought back memories I would rather leave buried. Changelings being freed from stone, Thorax’s calming influence over his fellow changelings, and Chrysalis…

My hand rose instinctively, the silversheen fingers of my Wizard’s Arm brushing the scars etched across the right side of my face. The motion was automatic, the touch phantom-like with the unfeeling metal. I clenched my fist, dispelling the thought. I wasn’t here to reminisce.

I focused on the task at hand.

Unlike Summon Monster or its ilk, Planar Inquiry was meticulous, focused, and bound the summoned creature and the caster with rules. Its function was simple: summon a creature from beyond this plane and limit its actions to a single purpose — divulging information in exchange for payment.

No combat, no chaos, just answers.

The sigils were drawn, neat and glowed faintly with power, a blend of abjuration runes and elysian symbols that harmonized in soft pulses of magic. I stood a few feet from the circle. The sigils and circle were likely completely unnecessary for this spell, but I was paranoid, and I’d learned to respect the unknown.

The only components I needed were set within the circle — a sack of gems worth far more than I was comfortable parting with. A gentle hum filled the air as I began the incantation, the language ancient and flowing like music. The sigils flared brighter, and the faint, floral scent of some otherworldly plane brushed against my senses.

Then, she appeared.

The kanya unfurled in a swirl of grace and vibrant colors. Her upper body was that of a stunning, winged elven woman, her skin a shade of lustrous bronze, adorned with intricate golden tattoos that seemed to shift and shimmer with every movement. Long, flowing hair the color of sunlight cascaded down her back, framing a face that belonged in a poet's dreams — sharp, angular, and utterly captivating. Her lower half was a serpentine coil of deep green scales, patterned like sun-dappled leaves, tapering into a tail that gleamed like polished emerald. Her vast feathered wings shimmered with hues of gold and alabaster as they unfurled, stirring the stale air of the dungeon into a fleeting breeze.

What struck me, though, was her lack of modesty — or at least, the colossal difference in what must’ve counted as modesty to a kanya. She was draped only in strands of glimmering jewels and golden chains that accentuated rather than concealed. Thin circlets covered her nipples, but the rest of her was on full display. She was a living testament to confidence and beauty unburdened by mortal shame.

I averted my gaze instinctively, my left eye snapping to the runes on the floor, and cleared my throat. "Greetings, honorable azata."

The kanya's eyes, the color of molten gold, swept across her surroundings. Her expression darkened. “A dungeon,” she said, her voice lilting and melodious but tinged with disdain. “You call me to this… this cage of stone and shadow? Do you think so little of my kind?”

I raised my hands, one flesh and the other silver, in a placating gesture. “I meant no offense. This location is for privacy and security, not to insult your sensibilities.”

Her gaze lingered on me, weighing my words, before she let out a soft sigh, her coils shifting to bring her closer. “Very well. Your summoning is… precise, at least. I will listen, but I warn you: my patience for this environment is thin.”

I nodded, grateful she hadn’t returned to her plane outright. “I need information, and I’m willing to pay the agreed price.”

Her eyes flicked to the sack of gems, and she inclined her head slightly. “Your offering is acceptable. Speak your question, mortal, and I will determine if it is worthy of my time.”

Her tone, though not unkind, carried a sort of detachment that made my throat tighten. It didn’t help that her every movement drew attention to the way her chains and jewels glittered against her skin. I could feel my cheeks heating despite myself.

Focus, Sebastian.

I breathed deeply, grounding myself with thoughts of Luna — her strength, her confidence, and the way she always carried herself, no matter who or what stood before her. The thought steadied me, or it did until my mind went to dresses and braids, then my cheeks heated for a more acceptable reason.

This would have to do.

“I seek information from the Plane of Elysium.” I managed to get out without choking on my words.

Her amber eyes narrowed slightly. “You presume much, mortal. Elysium is vast, and its secrets are not so easily parted with. What exactly is it that you seek?”

“My name is Sebastian Hilam,” I said, my voice far steadier than I felt. “I want to know if there’s anything about me in Elysium. Records, whispers, anything really that ties me to your plane.”

The kanya’s expression shifted as I spoke my name. Her eyes widened slightly, and she tilted her head, scrutinizing me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Slowly, she leaned forward, her serpentine body curling closer as if to study me more closely.

“You…” she began, her voice softer now, laced with curiosity. “You are known to us.”

Her words lingered in the air, brimming with mystery and a faint sense of familiarity that sent my pulse racing. Still, I kept my expression neutral, though questions surged in my mind, each vying for dominance.

“Known to you?” I asked evenly. “How?”

The kanya shifted her serpentine coils, her gaze unwavering as if studying me down to the marrow. “Permit me to introduce myself,” she began, her voice an elegant harmony that seemed to resonate beyond the physical. “I am Kalthissa, one of the many chroniclers of Elysium’s stories and a seeker of hidden truths. My recent endeavors have often drawn me to the Midnight’s Palette, the newest realm within Elysium.”

The Midnight’s Palette.

The name sparked a flicker of recognition — a divine domain forged by the newly ascended goddess of artists, exiles, and midnight.

Kalthissa continued, her tone turned thoughtful. “I was there recently, documenting the evolution of Nocticula’s realm. Her redemption fascinates those of us who study the nature of transformation. It’s rare to see a being once steeped in the profane now willingly walking a path of light.”

I nodded, inviting her to elaborate further.

“In one of her courts, I encountered a portrait,” she said, her gaze sharpening. “A depiction of a man with a face remarkably similar to yours. The artistry was exquisite, capturing you amidst a battlefield. You held a blade with a crescent moon on its pommel in that silver hand of yours, and behind you, a shadowy figure cloaked in stars loomed as if the night itself stood by your side.”

My chest tightened at her words. The crescent moon — Promise. And the shadow… Luna?

Must be.

Kalthissa’s amber eyes glimmered with curiosity. “When I asked, I was told Nocticula herself recently painted the piece. She is curious about you, Sebastian Hilam.”

“Curious about me?” I echoed, my unease carefully masked.

Nocticula’s story was one of extremes. As the demon lord of darkness and lust, she had ruled through fear and seduction, commanding assassins, indulged in unspeakable acts I preferred not to imagine, and inspired fear among even the most fearsome of demon lords. Now, as the Redeemer Queen, she championed artists, outcasts, and the beauty that thrived under the cover of midnight.

Her redemption sent ripples of awe and doubt through the planes. To some, she remained the first succubus birthed from the Abyss, her change of heart dismissed as nothing more than some elaborate ruse.

But I had to trust in her sincerity. The thought of the old Nocticula — a cunning predator who slew demon lords for sport — turning her attention toward me and Equis was a far more chilling prospect than her current role as a patron of redemption.

“Yes, anomalies fascinate her,” Kalthissa continued. “And you, Sebastian, are an anomaly of the highest order — a human in a plane almost entirely isolated from the Great Beyond. Your weapon is marked with the crescent moon. The moon is a symbol tied to her own evolution, to her own redemption. Such a confluence of symbols and circumstance cannot help but draw her attention.”

Questions churned within me, but I only nodded.

“She means no harm,” Kalthissa assured me, her melodic voice steady. “Do not fear her interest. Her curiosity stems from a place of understanding, not malice. Nocticula has witnessed the extremes of existence, and has chosen the path of redemption.”

Her assurances were only mildly comforting. I stored the information away, knowing that the Redeemer Queen’s curiosity might one day demand answers.

Kalthissa inclined her head, her expression softening. “I have answered your query, Sebastian. Now, I must return to Elysium. May your path remain illuminated, and may the shadow that follows you lead only to wisdom.”

With a graceful motion, Kalthissa’s form dissolved into a cascade of shimmering light, leaving me alone in the dim dungeon, the air heavy with the weight of her revelations.

So that was how Samir knew my name but not my new... looks. The portrait Kalthissa mentioned must have been painted after the return of the Crystal Empire, or maybe Samir never actually saw it himself. Either way, his connection to Nocticula was clear — whether as a servant or a devout follower of the Redeemer Queen. That would explain the prayers he recited when he saved Noctra’s life.

The first succubus had taken an interest in me. Maybe even in Equis as a whole. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but there were far worse entities to attract attention from. At least it wasn’t a demon lord like Baphomet, Lamashtu, or Pazuzu.

Small mercies and silver linings, I supposed.

I needed to speak to Luna and Celestia on these matters.

I let out a steadying breath, and spoke the incantation for Teleport. The world shifted, and in an instant I reappeared in Luna and I’s bedchambers.

The familiar scent of lavender and parchment greeted me as the world settled back into place. Luna and Celestia were already there, seated together on our new plush crescent-shaped couch near the balcony. Luna held a book in her midnight colored aura turning its pages, while Celestia sipped from a wine glass, her golden aura illuminating the soft smile on her lips.

Both sisters turned their attention to me as I arrived. Luna’s eyes snapped to me immediately, her cyan eyes bright with curiosity as she set down her book.

“Sebastian,” she said as she rose from her seat. “How did it go? Did you find the answers you sought?”

Celestia, however, arched an elegant brow at me. Her sharp gaze studying me, and taking on an intensity that made the hairs on my neck stand up. She set her wine glass down and leaned slightly forward. “More importantly,” Celestia interjected with a playful lilt to her voice, “why is your face so red? You look like a colt caught sneaking sweets before dinner.”

Luna blinked, her attention shifting from my expression to Celestia’s words, then back to me. Her lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners. “Indeed, you do seem unusually flustered,” she noted, her tone even but with a hint of amusement.

I cleared my throat, hoping to derail whatever line of inquiry Celestia seemed intent on pursuing. “The meeting was somewhat enlightening,” I began, focusing on Luna. “A kanya named Kalthissa confirmed that I’m known in Elysium. Apparently, there’s a portrait of me in one of Nocticula’s courts in the Midnight’s Palette.”

“A portrait?” Luna asked, tilting her head, her interest piqued.

“Yes,” I answered as I rubbed at the back of my neck. “It depicted me on a battlefield with Promise, standing alongside a shadowy figure that probably represents…” I hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious under their combined scrutiny. “…you.”

Luna’s eyes widened, surprise giving way to a soft smile. “Fascinating,” she murmured. “What does this ‘Nocticula’ want with you?”

“According to Kalthissa, she’s curious,” I admitted. “About me and you, about Promise, and possibly about Equis as a whole. Kalthissa assured me Nocticula’s interest isn’t hostile in nature, but it’s concerning to say the least.”

“Curiosity is a powerful motivator,” Celestia mused, her eyes glinting with amusement as they locked on mine. “But, dear Sebastian, you’ve evaded my earlier question. Why the blush?”

“It’s nothing,” I said, a little too quickly. My voice cracked slightly, betraying me.

“Oh, it’s something,” Celestia countered, her smile widening like a cat that had cornered its prey. She leaned forward, resting her chin on a golden-clad hoof. “Did this kanya perhaps… distract you?”

“No!” I blurted, far too forcefully. Luna’s ears perked, and a sly grin began to tug at her lips.

“She did,” Luna chimed in, stepping closer with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

“She did not,” I tried again, weaker this time. “She was just… underdressed.”

Celestia blinked before her laughter spilled out, light and melodic. Luna raised a skeptical eyebrow, her grin turning utterly devious.

“You were blushing over a lack of clothing?” Celestia teased. “Sebastian, you’ve noticed, haven’t you? Most ponies don’t wear clothes at all.”

“It wasn’t just that!” I protested, desperate to defend myself. “It was… everything at once. And… jewelry!”

“Jewelry?” Luna echoed, tilting her head as if genuinely curious, though her grin said otherwise.

I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Not the jewelry specifically. Just the whole appearance was unexpected.”

Celestia’s chuckles grew softer but no less teasing. “Ah, yes, unexpected appearances have a way of lingering, don’t they?”

Words escaped me, and I could only stammer helplessly as both sisters continued to watch me with far too much amusement.

“Leave him be, Sister,” Luna said, though her grin betrayed no intention of mercy. “He’s clearly still recovering from the… ordeal.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, though my burning cheeks betrayed me.

Luna tilted her head, her tone softening but her grin staying mischievous. “Oh, but I know my consort well. You’re thinking of something else entirely, aren’t you?”

My heart skipped. “No, I’m not!”

Celestia’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, this is getting interesting. What could it be, I wonder?”

“Was it the kanya,” Luna mused, moving closer still. Then, her voice dropped and turned to silk. “Or was it… me?”

I froze, utterly caught in those beautiful eyes of hers. My mind was trapped in a tangled web of memories of our date, and the passion that had come after.

“Fine!” I threw my hands up as I glared at both of them. “It was you, Luna. I was thinking about how you looked on our date. Your hair was braided, and you wore that dress…”

The silence that followed was deafening. Then Celestia’s laughter erupted again, a peal of pure delight. Luna’s grin faltered for a moment, her cheeks darkening slightly, but it quickly morphed into one of triumph.

“I braided her hair that night,” Celestia said, shaking her head in delight. “And I helped her choose that dress. My efforts seem to have left a lasting impression.”

Luna stepped closer, her expression softening as her teasing melted away. “You thought of me,” she said quietly, “even then?”

“Of course I did,” I replied smoothly, my earlier embarrassment melting away. “You’re always on my mind. You know that.”

Luna’s smile turned warm, her teasing giving way to something more genuine as she stepped even closer. Her hoof brushed against my hand, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of us. “You’re always on my mind as well,” she murmured.

Celestia cleared her throat, the sound deliberately exaggerated. “As touching as this is, I’m afraid there are matters that we must discuss.”

I sighed as I pulled myself back to the present. “Of course. What’s going on?”

The shift in Celestia’s expression was subtle but unmistakable; the playful gleam in her eyes gave way to a thoughtful seriousness. She gestured for us to take our places on our crescent-shaped couch, and I ended up seated between the sisters. Luna pressed close to my left, her quiet warmth a source of unspoken comfort, while Celestia settled to my right, her poised and steady demeanor setting the tone for the conversation to come.

“First, the dragons,” Celestia began. “Torch has managed to keep the majority of his kind in line, but a few rogue dragons have taken to raiding neighboring lands. This is straining relations, especially with the griffons who are the main target of these raids.”

“Which brings me to the griffons,” she continued, her tone heavy. “The griffons are once again embroiled in their endless squabbles over the legacy of their old empire. Three of their self-proclaimed kings have already engaged in skirmishes, with reports of at least one of their border villages being caught in the crossfire. Each king claims to be the rightful heir to the throne of the old empire, and their squabbles are beginning to spill into Equestrian territories. Trade routes are disrupted, and border skirmishes have begun escalating.”

Luna frowned and her brow furrowed. “And what of the changelings?”

Celestia hesitated while her eyes flicked to me briefly.

“They are starving,” she said at last. “Chrysalis herself sent a message requesting an audience. She claims her hive is on the verge of collapse and wishes to negotiate for aid.”

The blood drained from my face at the mention of her name. Unwelcome memories tore through my mind — her cruel smile, the mocking cadence of her voice, and the agony of Promise plunging into my chest as she wore Luna’s face like a mask. A phantom ache stabbed through my heart, forcing my breath to catch.

Panic surged, irrational and consuming, as my remaining eye sought out Luna.

She was already watching me, her expression marked with quiet concern. Her hoof came to rest in the palm of my left hand, warm and firm. “You are safe,” she murmured, her voice a gentle anchor against the tempest in my chest.

I exhaled slowly, nodding as I fought to shove the haunting images aside and tether myself to the present, to reality. “Starving changelings are dangerous,” I said at last, my voice level in spite of the tremor in my chest. “What must be done?”

“That,” Celestia began, reclining slightly as she spoke, “is where things become complicated. The griffons, dragons, and changelings each bring their own threats to stability, but their issues are deeply intertwined. The griffons’ internal conflicts fuels boldness among the dragons, whose raids further fracture the region. Meanwhile, the changelings’ hunger and desperation could drive rogue members of the hive to acts of aggression — enough to escalate tensions with the other two, or worse, provoke entirely new conflicts across Equis.”

“And you believe a peaceful resolution is possible?” Luna asked with a clear edge of skepticism marking her tone.

“We must try, Sister,” Celestia replied, her tone steady and resolute. “I’ve begun preparations for a summit. Invitations will be sent to the griffon kingdoms, Dragon Lord Torch, Chrysalis, and every other significant power in the region. The aim is to foster dialogue and secure agreements that could preserve peace — or, at the very least, prevent the eruption of a full-scale war.”

The mention of Chrysalis twisted a cold knot in my stomach. My grip on Luna’s hoof tightened reflexively, and she responded by closing the remaining distance between us until our shoulders touched. The small gesture carried more reassurance than words, freeing the knot of unease that was just borne in my stomach, and threatened to overwhelm me.

“When would this summit take place?” I asked, forcing an even tone.

“Soon,” Celestia answered. “Likely in a month’s time, so as to allow time for representatives to travel to Canterlot. Time is of the essence. And, Sebastian, your presence will be vital, given your unique position.”

Of course.

As Consort of the Moon, and one of the three holding sway over Chrysalis through the Geas, I couldn’t avoid this responsibility. Even if some part of me wished to crawl under a rock, and hide.

“I’ll be there,” I said firmly, in spite of the primal fear that whispered from the back of my mind. “If it helps save lives or prevent war, I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Celestia’s smile returned, softer now. “That’s the spirit I hoped for. And rest assured, I’ve enlisted somepony to help you prepare for the intricacies of diplomacy.”

Luna leaned further into me, a wing wrapping around me and pulling me into an embrace of sorts, her proximity calming the doubts within. Celestia’s gaze lingered on us, her expression unreadable for a moment, before a hint of a smirk crossed her lips.

“Besides, this could be an excellent opportunity for personal growth,” she added, her tone light but teasing.

I let out an exaggerated sigh as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Can we survive the summit before discussing personal growth?”

Both sisters laughed, the sound lightening the atmosphere. Luna’s chuckle was warm and tickled my ear, while Celestia’s laughter carried its usual melodic charm. Even with what now loomed only weeks away, their presence made the stress, and doubts of it all fade into background noise — easily forgotten and ignored.

Everything would work out in the end. I needed to believe that, or else I would start to lose my mind. Besides, Celestia had mentioned getting someone to help prepare me for the ‘intricacies of diplomacy’.

With that last thought, I finally let myself relax entirely into Luna’s embrace with a sigh of contentment.

Yeah, everything will work out in the end. I just know it.

Gathering

The castle was abuzz with energy.

A sort of nervous undercurrent had taken to crackling beneath the surface of its polished grandeur. Banners from every nation that would be represented at the summit hung along the castle’s marble walls. The banners' vibrant colors hung starkly in contrast to the muted tension that seemed to cling to everyone. Or, perhaps it was just I who held such tensions.

Perhaps I was simply projecting my worries onto others… I wish Aldin were here. He would know exactly what to say to me. He would know exactly what I needed to hear to get my head on straight.

He wasn’t here, but I am. I’m here wandering these halls with no particular destination in mind, convincing myself I was just keeping an eye out for anything — or anyone — that might need my help.

My Wizard’s Arm clicked softly as I flexed its fingers to tap against its silver palm, the faint hum of the magic-infused prosthetic served as a subtle companion to my thoughts. I passed a group of staff rushing to arrange a long banquet table, their chatter hushed and urgent. A moment later, two castle architects debated whether a particular sconce was too bright and might offend the yaks of Yakyakistan, who apparently preferred softer lighting.

I lingered in the shadows of an archway, observing without interfering. It wasn’t my business, I told myself. Besides, they seemed to have it under control.

Still, I didn’t move on.

Instead, my mind circled back to the unspoken reason I was pacing these halls like some caged animal. Chrysalis.

Her name alone made my stomach churn. The memory of her mocking laughter, the glint of malice in her eyes as she drained my love and then drove Promise through my heart — it was seared into me like a brand. But I wasn’t scared of her. Of course not.

I shook my head sharply and moved on. I allowed my feet to take me wherever they wanted.

The Grand Foyer was an explosion of activity. Rows of Lunar and Solar Guards stood at attention, their armor gleaming in the early daylight. Foreign dignitaries’ names were being cross-checked against endless lists, and various staff fluttered about as they prepared for the inevitable chaos that came with housing the wide range of persons who would be accompanying their heads of state. The Crystal Empire’s envoys were supposed to arrive first. Cadance was eager to represent her crystal ponies on the global stage. It would be the Crystal Empire, and Cadance’s, first international event.

I paused near the towering stained-glass windows, each panel capturing some triumphant moment from Equestria’s long history. My eye landed on the one depicting the defeat of the changelings during their invasion of Canterlot. My stomach tightened as I stared at the colorful rendition of Chrysalis kneeling before me while her petrified swarm circled us.

The window focused on victory — the triumph through strife, the power to stop an entire army, the queen brought low and forced to kneel. It showed those who viewed it that Equestria was strong, even without the Elements of Harmony. It showed the world that we had other ways to defend ourselves.

The window didn’t show the aftermath — the chaos, the losses, the bodies. It didn’t show Aldin. It didn’t show what didn’t make it through that day, or that parts of me remained dead.

I turned away, clenching my fists tightly enough that my silversheen arm whined in protest as the metallic fingers dug into itself.

A passing Lunar Guard acknowledged me with a brisk salute. I nodded back, my expression carefully neutral. Could they tell how tense I was? Probably not. I’d perfected the art of masking my unease, even around Luna.

Well, mostly.

Luna knew better, though. She always did.

Who was I kidding? Luna never missed a thing. She just rarely called me out on it. She chose to let me keep the illusion of composure, trusting that I’d talk to her when I was ready.

My wandering led me through the same corridor twice, a fact I only realized when I’d passed the same ornate tapestry twice. A trio of maids glanced at me, their curiosity evident before they hastily returned to arranging bouquets of flowers.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath, frustration seeping into my tone. “Get it together.”

As I approached the side corridor leading to the main entrance, my stride slowed. I could already picture Celestia, Twilight, and Luna standing there, poised to greet Cadance and the Crystal Empire’s delegation. My place was with them, beside Luna, fulfilling my role as her consort — a visible symbol of unity and strength.

And yet, my steps faltered, as if my body resisted what my mind knew I had to do.

I stopped, inhaling deeply. The faint smell of fresh paint clung to the air, mingling with the sharper scent of polished wood, and soft floral undertones from distant arrangements.

This wasn’t about my struggles or the memories of what I’d endured. It wasn’t about the wounds I carried or the nightmares that lingered. This was about Equestria. About Luna. About building a future where what Chrysalis had done could never be repeated, not to me, not to anyone.

It was about hope. About peace.

Exhaling, I straightened my posture, allowing the simple act of breathing air to steady me. I counted silently to ten, then started forward once more. Each step carried purpose now, a silent promise to myself and to those I cared for. They’re waiting, along with the first of the dignitaries.

It was time to face them. All of them.

The muffled murmur of voices reached my ears as I neared the grand entrance. The guards flanking the doors stood like marble sentinels, their discipline flawless, their gazes unyielding. Beyond them, sunlight spilled through the towering double doors, bathing the space where Celestia, Twilight, and Luna waited.

Luna’s eyes met mine the instant I came into view. Her calm gaze seemed to quiet the chaos in my mind, grounding me without the need for anything spoken. I offered a faint nod and moved to her side, standing to her right where I belonged.

Celestia spared me a brief glance, her serene demeanor unchanged, though there was an unspoken acknowledgment in her gaze. To her left, Twilight Sparkle fidgeted, adjusting the sash draped across her shoulders. The garment was simple yet dignified, a symbol of her importance despite her lack of official titles.

It made me pause. Twilight’s presence here suddenly struck me as odd. She was undeniably important as Celestia’s star pupil and one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony. But the Elements are out of commission — for now at least — and Twilight held no formal title that carried any sort of weight in political circles.

The answer began to take shape in my mind. Celestia had plans for her — plans that extended far beyond mere mentorship. Perhaps Twilight was destined to follow in Cadance’s hoofsteps, to ascend as an alicorn.

The realization struck like a lightning bolt.

Celestia had been guiding Twilight toward this destiny for years, perhaps even decades before she was even born. Cadance, the last living heir to the Crystal Empire’s throne, became Twilight’s foalsitter creating an early connection. Twilight herself would then go on to become the bearer of the Element of Magic, which would then facilitate the reunion between Celestia and Luna. Meanwhile, Shining Armor rose to be the Captain the Solar Guard and would even go on to marry Cadance, intertwining their lives even further. These couldn’t be isolated events; there are far too many conveniences to not be some sort of grand design.

But how could I prove it?

I had no concrete evidence, just an intricate web of implications and speculation. The old me would have been consumed by paranoia or resentment at the mere idea of this level of manipulation. But now? Now, I didn’t care if Celestia had manipulated the whole damn world to dance to her tune. Because that dance had led me to Luna.

If Celestia’s orchestrations had led me to the love of my life, then how could I ever resent it?

The sound of hoofsteps echoed from the courtyard, breaking me free from my thoughts of puppets on strings. The Crystal Empire’s delegation was here.

Luna shifted, the sunlight catching her peytral and casting a soft glow. “Cadance arrives,” she murmured, her voice a quiet certainty that seemed to echo the inevitability of the moment.

I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression neutral as the guards moved to open the grand doors. A gust of cool mountain air swept into the hall, carrying with it the faint tinkling of crystal bells.

The first to step inside was Cadance herself.

The title of Empress suited her well. She wore the regalia of her new station with ease, her head held high. Her crown, a delicate arrangement of silver and crystal that caught the light in dazzling patterns, framed her determined yet kind expression. Her long, flowing gown shimmered like the aurora that had signified the Crystal Heart’s reactivation, the fabric shifting between shades of soft blue and pink with each step. Behind her trailed a retinue of crystal ponies I’d never seen before, their expressions a mixture of pride and awe at being in Canterlot for such a momentous event.

“Princess Celestia. Princess Luna,” Cadance greeted warmly, her voice carrying the melodic cadence I remembered from before. Her gaze lingered briefly on Twilight, and her smile softened.

“Twilight,” she added, a note of affection slipping into her tone.

Twilight beamed, almost bouncing in place as she replied, “Cadance! Oh, I mean — Empress Cadance.”

Thankfully they didn’t shake their asses at each other. I wouldn’t be able to hold back my reaction if they did that again.

The moment earned a quiet chuckle from Celestia, whose composure remained intact as she inclined her head. “Empress Cadance, welcome. It is a joy to see you again, and to host the Crystal Empire for such an important gathering.”

“It is an honor to be here,” Cadance replied, her smile widening. Her attention shifted then, her gaze landing on me. For a fleeting moment, the weight of her title melted away, and she looked at me not as the Empress of the Crystal Empire but as someone who was greeting a friend.

“Sebastian,” she greeted, her voice quieter but no less steady. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well,” I replied, inclining my head slightly. Formality seemed most appropriate for this moment, even if my gut twisted at the absence of Shining Armor by her side. I knew he’d stayed behind to guard their ponies, but the greedy part of me had hoped he could make it.

Behind Cadance, her delegation stepped forward. They bore themselves with the dignity of their freshly returned empire, each adorned with crystal accents that refracted light in soft rainbows across the polished floor. Their leader, a tall stallion with a coat that gleamed like diamond, presented their credentials to Celestia with a practiced bow.

The formalities continued as the Crystal Empire’s representatives exchanged greetings with the gathered royals, each word carefully chosen and clearly rehearsed. I kept my posture straight, my eye roamed occasionally to the movement of the guards, the distant shadows in the hall, the crystal ponies’ subtle shifts in expression.

The formalities of the Crystal Empire’s arrival drew to a close, and the grand hall fell into a brief lull. The air, heavy with the scent of freshly polished stone and subtle floral undertones, held an almost palpable tension. Each passing moment felt like the calm before a storm, though outwardly, the scene was serene.

I remained at Luna’s side, hands clasped behind my back. My posture was rigid but composed, just like Blueblood had taught me. Luna’s presence beside me, an unyielding pillar of quiet strength, was both a comfort and a reminder. I wasn’t here for myself — I was here for her, for Equestria, for the fragile hope this summit represented.

The next arrivals were heralded by the sharp clicking of talons on polished stone. A trio of griffons entered, each steeped in exaggerated dignity.

The Three Kings of Griffons.

To an untrained observer, their presence might have seemed unified — three proud rulers representing the fragmented remains of the old griffon kingdom. But the tension between them was visible to me now thanks to Blueblood’s tutelage. Every once in a while they’d throw each other the occasional sharp glance, and their wings were held constantly stiff to their sides.

They absolutely despised each other.

King Gottfried led the procession, his plumage streaked with silver, his armor polished to a gleaming finish. He walked with a confidence that dared anyone to question his claim to the griffon throne.

Beside him, King Gerald exuded a more feral energy, his golden eyes scanning the room as if assessing every potential threat — or ally. His darker feathers blended seamlessly into his black battle leathers, giving him the appearance of a predator poised to strike.

Trailing just a step behind was King Gable, the youngest of the three. His feathers shimmered with a bluish hue, and his light ceremonial armor was adorned with intricate engravings that glinted in the sunlight. His posture was less rigid, though his sharp gaze betrayed a calculating mind.

The griffons stopped a respectful distance from Celestia, Luna, and Cadance. Gottfried inclined his head first, a gesture echoed — if somewhat reluctantly — by the other two kings.

“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Empress Cadance,” Gottfried greeted, his voice a deep rumble. “It is an honor to stand here among such esteemed company.”

His words dripped with formality, but the sideways glance he gave Gerald and Gable suggested that formality was not the main thing on his mind.

“The honor is ours,” Celestia replied with a smooth diplomatic tone. “Your presence speaks to the importance of this summit.”

Formalities continued, the griffons’ posturing against each other was subtle but ever-present. I couldn’t help but keep my eye on them, noting every flick of a tail or twitch of a wing. The Three Kings were allies in name only, and their grudges ran deep.

A part of me doubted that anything lasting would come from the three.

Before long, the sound of enormous footsteps echoed through the hall, each one resonating like distant thunder. The ground seemed to tremble slightly as Dragon Lord Torch made his entrance.

The dragon’s massive frame seemed barely contained by the towering arches of the grand entrance. His scales, a deep cobalt that dully reflected the daylight, and atop his head sat a crown of fire-red jewels. He was truly imposing by Equis’ draconic standards.

Torch’s booming voice filled the hall as he spoke. “Ponies of Equestria! I, Dragon Lord Torch, have come as agreed. Let us waste no time in discussing matters that concern the Dragon Lands and beyond.”

Despite his massive presence, Celestia stepped forward without hesitation, inclining her head in greeting. “Dragon Lord Torch, we welcome you. Your wisdom and experience will undoubtedly enrich our discussions.”

Torch gave a gruff snort but seemed satisfied with her response. His massive tail swept across the floor as he moved to take his designated place, leaving scorch marks in his wake.

Next came Prince Abraxas of Farasi, a zebra with a regal bearing and intricate tribal markings across his coat. He wore a cloak of deep indigo lined with gold and silversheen, the patterns echoing the vibrant tapestries of his homeland. He greeted the assembled royalty with a calm, measured voice, his words carrying a sort of rhythmic cadence that sounded almost like he was about to break into rhyme.

The formalities continued, the grand hall buzzing with a charged energy that ebbed and flowed as each delegation made their entrance. My gaze flicked from one ruler to the next, my fingers absently tracing the cool, smooth surface of the Wizard's Arm as it rested at my side.

Abraxas’ entrance had been graceful and calculated — everything I’d expect from the ruler of Farasi, if Blueblood’s experience in Farasi was to be trusted. He moved with the ease of someone who understood his power, a subtle confidence that was mirrored in his attire. The silversheen accents on his cloak caught the light in a way that reminded me of the arm at my side.

In this moment It was impossible not to think of its origins as my fingers brushed over the intricate runes I’d etched into the silver. Zebrat craftsmanship and my own arcane magic — both working in harmony to create a tool that was now as much a part of me as my own flesh. I flexed the prosthetic’s fingers experimentally, the sensation of magic pulsing through its structure a comfortingly familiar sensation.

Prince Abraxas had been instrumental in its creation. I’d never met him, but Luna said that he’d evidently taken great care to ensure that the alchemists under his rule crafted something worthy of my station — or, perhaps, worthy of Luna’s.

And now, here I was, standing in the same room as its patron.

I glanced at Abraxas as he addressed Celestia, Luna, and Cadance. Would he even acknowledge me? I wasn’t royalty, not in the way the rest were, yet I bore the mark of his generosity.

I could practically hear Blueblood in the back of my mind. If he were here he’d criticize me for slouching an inch, before giving me an overly lengthy lecture on why Abraxas would acknowledge me, all the while slipping in backhanded compliments.

Then, I would counter it all by calling him nephew. I smirked at that. I wish Blueblood were here, but he wasn't high enough in the ranks of royalty to get an invite. Instead, he was somewhere in the castle doing me a favor.

My silversheen arm instinctively shifted at my side, almost as if reacting to the thought of Blueblood and Abraxas. The runes pulsed faintly as it held back the Decay, a rhythmic beat that matched the flow of the magic coursing through it. I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at how far I’d pushed its capabilities.

Abraxas’ gaze shifted as he finished greeting the princesses, and for a moment, I thought he was about to move past me. But then his eyes locked onto the Wizard’s Arm, recognition sparking in his expression.

“Consort of the Moon,” he greeted smoothly, his voice carrying the same rhythmic cadence he held with the others. “It is good to see the silversheen of Farasi serving you well. A gift, perhaps, but also a challenge — for no metal should outshine the one who wields it. I trust it serves you well?”

I inclined my head, the corner of my mouth twitching upward in acknowledgment. “Prince Abraxas,” I greeted evenly. “Better than I could’ve imagined. Your alchemists’ craft has saved my life more than once, though I admit I’ve done some... fine-tuning.”

His lips curved into a subtle smile, approval shining in his eyes. “A fitting response. The silversheen was always meant to adapt — to grow alongside its bearer. I’m pleased to see it has found a worthy hand, even if only one.”

The remark carried no malice, only an appreciation for what had been achieved. And with that, he moved on, his attention already shifting to the next figure in the room.

I exhaled softly, my focus returning to the arm. The Wizard’s Arm had always meant to be more than just a prosthetic, and moments like this proved that sentiment to be true. It was a bridge between worlds, a physical symbol of alliances and tenacity. Of flesh and metal, life and Decay, and so much more.

The thud of hooves against stone drew my attention as Prince Rutherford of Yakyakistan entered, his booming laughter filling the hall like a clap of thunder. His exuberance stood in stark contrast to the quiet intensity of Abraxas, but that was Yaks for you — unapologetically themselves.

“Yaks ready to talk peace!” he declared, his voice shaking the walls as he stomped a hoof. “Prince Rutherford bring wisdom of yaks to table!”

The hall filled with silence, and someone in the back muffled a chuckle at his enthusiasm. After a beat the formalities resumed just as swiftly as they had paused. The amassed delegates offered their greetings to each other, each voice adding to the mosaic of nations gathered here.

And then the doors opened again.

The air shifted, an almost imperceptible chill creeping into the room despite the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. The undercurrent of unease sharpened, prickling at my senses.

Chrysalis had arrived.

She moved with a predator’s grace, her every step exuding an unsettling poise. Her piercing green gaze swept over the room, and I fought the instinct to recoil under it. Each glance felt calculated, as though she were filing away weaknesses for later use. But something was wrong. She wasn’t nearly the imposing figure I remembered. Her frame seemed frailer, her features sharper with a hollowness that hadn’t been there before.

Thorax trailed close beside her, his nervous blue eyes darting toward the gathered dignitaries. Whatever had worn Chrysalis down had left its mark on him too, his once-hopeful energy muted.

Her honor guard followed in formation, their glowing green eyes leaving faint reflections on the floor. They moved with an attempt at precision, but even they seemed less threatening than the changelings I had once fought. Thinner, frailer. Shadows of what they once were.

“Princesses, empress,” Chrysalis greeted, her voice silky and dripping with what was certainly false civility. “How wonderful it is to see you all again.”

Her gaze shifted to me, a cruel smile curling at the edges of her lips. “And you, my dear Sebastian. It seems you’ve been keeping busy.”

Luna’s wing brushed lightly against my shoulder, her silent reassurance keeping me from snapping. I said nothing. I kept my expression as neutral as possible, though my remaining hand gripped tightly at my silversheen hand behind my back.

The room grew deathly still, every delegate’s eyes latching onto Chrysalis as she moved deeper into the hall. Her voice lingered in the air, its venomous undertone as deliberate as the slow sway of her stride. The faint echo of her hooves on the polished floor grated against my ears.

I stood rigid, my focus fixed on her, waiting for the inevitable jab or veiled threat. The faint pressure of Luna’s wing at my side calmed me — if only barely.

The missing empathic link in my mind stirred. It was as if a hollow note reverberated through my soul, aching for something that could never return, something that had long since been murdered. Aldin’s absence was a wound that refused to fully heal. And here she was, striding in like she hadn’t shattered everything.

As if she deserved to still be alive.

The rage came unbidden, hot and searing. It churned through me, tightening my chest, coiling around every breath like a vice. My eye slid down to Chrysalis's right side, and the jagged stump where her wing had once been. I remembered the moment I severed it, the arc of Promise cleaving through chitin and sinew, her scream tearing through the air. The satisfaction I had felt then was a distant echo now, muted by time and grief.

The fury didn’t last.

It twisted, hardened, and then froze, turning into something cold and sharp. Ice in my veins. I grasped onto it for dear life to keep the fear at bay. My lips curled into something that might have been a smile, although it lacked any warmth.

“It suits you,” my voice came from me low and cutting. “The missing wing.”

Chrysalis halted mid-step, her confident smirk faltering as her eyes narrowed. The room, already tense, seemed to hold its collective breath. Her horn flickered faintly, a pulse of green that matched the flaring anger in her eyes.

“Sebastian,” she purred, regaining her composure with a sinister grin. “Still so fond of your little quips. Tell me, do you dream of that day? Reliving it over and over again as though it mattered?” She leaned in, her tone dropping. “Do you miss him?”

Before she could say more, I shifted my attention to Thorax, cutting her off entirely. The rage evaporated like steam under the light of something far more important.

“Thorax,” I greeted, the genuine warmth in my voice a deliberate contrast to the chill that had permeated the hall. “It’s good to see you again.”

Thorax’s head snapped up, his ears twitching in surprise. For a brief moment his nervousness melted away, and was replaced by the same hesitant but sincere hope I remembered. Despite the circumstances, I was truly happy to see him again.

“Sebastian,” he stammered, his wings buzzing faintly. “I — it’s good to see you too.” He glanced at Chrysalis, who was now glaring daggers at both of us, before returning his gaze to me. “Truly.”

I nodded, giving him a slight smile, one that didn’t reach my eye but held its own truth. “We’ll catch up later. I know the best donut shop in all of Canterlot.”

Chrysalis bristled beside him, her fury barely contained. Her hoof scraped against the floor in an aborted step forward. “You dare ignore me?” she hissed, her voice entirely losing its mask of civility.

I turned back to her, my expression carefully neutral as I straightened. “Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied dryly, the sarcasm in my tone sharpening like a blade.

Luna’s wing pressed against me again, a tad firmer this time. As though she was reminding me not to push too far, this summit was meant to foster peaceful relations after all. The hall’s atmosphere crackled with tension, but I didn’t look away from Chrysalis.

Chrysalis’s emerald eyes narrowed dangerously, her gaze boring into me as though she could peel me apart layer by layer. The faint hum of her magic tickled at the edge of my senses, a warning that her patience — what little she had — was fraying.

Before it could escalate further, Celestia stepped forward, her voice ringing with the calm authority that only millennia of rule could command. “Queen Chrysalis,” she said evenly, her tone a perfect balance of regal courtesy and unyielding strength. “Welcome to Canterlot. We are pleased to host this summit, and I trust that you and your delegation will find your accommodations suitable.”

The subtle emphasis on ‘trust’ was impossible to miss. Chrysalis merely smirked, her expression slipping back into its mask of composure. “How gracious of you, Princess,” she replied, her tone oozing with mock sincerity. “I’m sure we’ll be quite… comfortable.”

Celestia’s serene smile didn’t even waver an inch. “Excellent. The official summit will commence in two hours. Until then, my attendants will escort each delegation to their quarters.” She turned to the assembled representatives. “If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to inform us.”

A ripple of polite acknowledgments followed, though the tension in the room remained palpable. The griffon kings exchanged wary glances, their feathers ruffling slightly. Prince Rutherford stomped a hoof and muttered something about ‘yak patience,’ while Dragon Lord Torch simply observed the proceedings with a low rumble of interest.

Celestia turned toward Twilight, her wing gesturing subtly. “Twilight, if you would accompany me? There are matters to prepare before the summit begins.”

Twilight hesitated, her gaze flitted to me briefly before she nodded and stepped forward. “Of course, Princess Celestia.” Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of apprehension in her posture. She knew as well as I did how delicate this summit was, and what could happen if it went bad.

As the room began to stir with movement, delegations filing out in the company of royal guards and attendants, Luna leaned in close. Her voice was low so that only I could hear. “Come. There is somewhere quiet we can go.”

I nodded wordlessly, the icy calm that had settled in me earlier still clung to me like a second skin. She led the way out of the hall, her wingtip brushing lightly against my arm as we moved. I was dimly aware of the murmur of voices and the faint clatter of hooves on marble behind us, but it all felt distant and unimportant. The only thing keeping me from doing something that I knew I would regret was Luna’s presence, without her I would be trapped in the memory of that hell that was the day of my ascension. I would act out, and then there would be one less queen to worry about.

We navigated the winding corridors of the castle, Luna’s pace deliberate but unhurried. She didn’t speak, and I was grateful for the silence. The further we went from the main hall, the quieter the castle became, until the only sounds were our own steps and the faint whisper of wind through the corridors.

Finally, she pushed open a set of heavy wooden doors, revealing a small room. A single stained-glass window cast patterns of sunlight across the stone floor. The room was almost entirely barren, except for a single chair set at a small table.

Luna closed the door behind us, her magic sealing it with a soft shimmer. She turned to face me, her gaze steady and searching. “You held your composure well,” she spoke softly, her tone neither praising nor reproachful. “But I can feel the wrath within you.”

I exhaled slowly, my shoulders sagging as the weight of everything pressed down anew. “It’s a miracle I didn’t snap,” I admitted, my voice rougher than I intended. “Every second she was in that room, I could feel it — like she was taunting me without even trying.”

“She knows how to provoke you,” Luna replied, stepping closer. Her wing extended, brushing lightly against the small of my back. “And you are letting her. She desires to see you lose yourself.”

I met her gaze, the depth of her eyes like a night sky I could lose myself in. I exhaled, the anger that had simmered beneath my skin turned now to a dull ache. “It’s not just her,” I admitted as I allowed myself to appreciate the blue of her eyes. “It’s everything. Being in the same room with her after everything she’s done… It’s reopening old wounds.”

She rested a hoof against my chest, just above the scar where our Promise had once pierced my heart, her hoof warm against the memory of pain. “You are stronger than her,” she murmured, her voice resolute. “Stronger than the fear she wields. Your strength is in how you endure, how you rise above the darkness she sows. I would never ask you to face her if I didn’t believe that with all my heart.”

Her words settled over me, and melted the icy rage that had settled into my veins. I could almost see myself in her eyes, those endless pools of cyan that seemed to reflect our love. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For reminding me.”

She smiled faintly, her wing wrapping around my back. “Always, my moonlight. Now, we have a little under two hours before the summit is to commence. How should we prepare?”

I let out a low hum, and thought for a second. “Mentally,” I responded finally. “We should center ourselves so that we are mentally prepared for what is to come.”

Luna tilted her head, her mane shimmering faintly as it moved. “Agreed,” she said. Her gaze swept the room, assessing the sparse furnishings before returning to me. “Sit with your back to the wall,” she instructed gently. “It will help you feel more secure.”

I hesitated for a moment before nodding, stepping toward the far wall. The cool stone met my back as I lowered myself to the floor. My Wizard’s Arm, its silversheen fingers faintly catching the filtered light from the stained-glass window, rested awkwardly at my side.

Luna approached smoothly, her hoofsteps little more than whispers against the stone. Without a word, she lowered herself onto the floor beside me before gently laying her head in my lap. Her ethereal mane spilled across my legs like a river of stars.

I stiffened slightly, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands — especially with the Wizard’s Arm. The sight of its cold metal fingers hovering uncertainly above her gave me pause. “Are you sure about this?” I asked. “I can’t feel anything through it… and if the Decay—”

Luna’s eyes fluttered open and met mine with a quiet sort of certainty. “You could never hurt me,” she said simply. Her voice carried the kind of calm conviction that brooked no room for argument. “And you know I would stop you if there was any danger. Trust me, my love, as I trust you.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat a mix of gratitude and lingering doubt. Slowly, I brought a silversheen hand to rest on her mane, the sensation — or lack thereof — disconcerting. Still, I let the metal fingers stroke gently through her flowing hair, mimicking the motions I would have made with my left hand, or with my missing right hand.

To my surprise, Luna sighed softly, her body relaxing against me. “See?” she murmured. “Perfectly safe. And soothing, I might add.”

I couldn’t help the faint quirk of my lips, though the motion still felt strange on my scarred face. “Glad it’s working for one of us.”

Her laugh was soft, almost musical, and the sound eased something in me I hadn’t realized had tightened. “It’s working for both of us,” she corrected, her voice tinged with warmth. “You are calmer now than when we entered.”

I didn’t argue.

She wasn’t wrong. The simple act of being with her, of focusing on her instead of the storm of memories and dread in my mind, was helping. My left hand found its way to her mane as well, the contrast between the cool metal of the Wizard’s Arm and the warmth of my flesh felt almost symbolic.

For a while, we sat in silence. Somewhere, deeper in the castle, I could hear the occasional distant murmur of castle life. My breaths slowed, each one a little easier than the last.

“Luna,” I said after a long stretch of silence. “Thank you.”

Her eyes opened again, their light catching mine. “You’ve already thanked me, my moonlight,” she replied softly.

“This is different,” I said, my voice steady now. “Thank you for being here. For always being here.”

Her smile was small but no less genuine, and she shifted slightly, pressing her cheek against my leg. “Always,” she repeated, the word carrying a promise that felt far deeper than any spoken vow.

For the first time in what felt like hours, my thoughts stopped racing. There was no Chrysalis, no summit, no memories clawing at the edges of my mind. There was only Luna, her head resting in my lap, her trust in me as unshakable as the moon she commanded.

For now, there was only us.

This moment was a sliver of peace.

And I wasn’t ready to let it go.

Summit

The summit convened in a newly constructed wing of the castle. The new section was purposefully designed for such a significant gathering of so many heads of state.

The chamber was grand in every sense, with a vaulted ceiling so high that even Dragon Lord Torch’s immense size didn’t diminish the space. Vents were situated near the peak of the ceiling to give the room better airflow, and to counter the occasional exhale of smoke from the Dragon Lord. Sunlight poured in through towering stained glass windows, painting the walls and floor in a kaleidoscope of colors that shifted with the breeze outside.

At the center of this vast room stood a monumental round table carved from rich, dark wood, its surface polished to a mirror-like finish. Representatives from every attending nation occupied the table, their attention divided between the intricate details of their new surroundings, and the ongoing argument between the three griffon kings.

Their argument started almost immediately after Celestia welcomed everyone to the table, and had been carried on by their own momentum for almost half an hour now. If someone did not defuse their little spat, then likely nothing would get done today.

Which would mean another day of having Chrysalis exist in the same room as me.

Not good. Not good at all.

“…and I will not sit here and listen to the squawking of a fledgling who has never led a proper battle!” King Gerald’s voice boomed across the chamber, his talons scraped against the polished wood of the table as he leaned forward. His eyes narrowed at King Gable, who, to his credit, didn’t flinch.

“You call those proper battles, Gerald?” Gable shot back. “Raiding your rivals’ undefended towns and calling it ‘strategy’? Pathetic. The old kingdom deserves a leader with vision, not a relic clinging to past glories.”

King Gottfried snorted, his beak clicking sharply as he regarded the younger king with open disdain. “Vision won’t rebuild a broken kingdom, boy. Only strength and discipline will restore what our ancestors built — and I have more of both than the two of you squabbling whelps combined.”

The tension in the room was rising by the minute, the voices of the three kings growing louder with every exchanged barb. Around the table, the other delegates exchanged wary glances. Torch looked on with mild interest, his massive frame making even the oversized chair beneath him look comically small. Cadance sat stiffly, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Prince Rutherford shifted restlessly in his seat, his frustration at the lack of progress evident in the way he seemed to ponder the possibility of simply attempting to smash the table and be done with this.

Celestia raised a hoof, her voice calm but firm. “Please, my lords. This is neither the time nor place for such chaos. We are gathered here to resolve conflicts, not to further them.”

Gottfried’s eyes snapped to her, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might challenge her directly. But instead, he leaned back in his chair, folding his wings to his sides with an almost dismissive flick. “Forgive me, Princess,” he said, though his tone lacked any genuine remorse. “But it is difficult to discuss resolutions when some among us refuse to acknowledge reality.”

“Reality,” Gerald growled, his claws tapping impatiently against the table. “Reality is that your so-called claim to the throne died with your ancestors' failure to hold it.”

Gable scoffed, crossing his arms. “As if either of you would know what to do with the throne even if you somehow managed to sit on it.”

The voices rose again, overlapping into a cacophony of accusations and insults. Luna shifted beside me, her eyes narrowing as she exchanged a glance with Celestia. I knew that look — Luna’s patience was worn thin.

My patience, already strained by Chrysalis’ existence at the table, had worn to a single thread. Each word from the griffon kings grated against that frayed thread, their petty feuding consuming precious time I didn’t want to waste.

I let out a slow breath, my left hand curling into a fist atop my knee. The smooth, unfeeling surface of my Wizard’s Arm rested on the table before me, its polished silver reflecting the shifting light from the stained glass windows. The temptation to slam my metallic arm down to silence them was almost too strong to resist. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, my single eye fixed on the three kings.

“Enough,” I said.

None of the three kings noticed.

I glanced toward Luna, her jaw tight with suppressed irritation. Celestia attempted to speak to the griffon kings again, but her words were drowned out by their ongoing argument.

It was clear to me that they weren’t going to stop of their own volition.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders to release some of the tension coiled there. The weight of responsibility settled heavier on me as I prepared to step in, my mind abuzz with the numerous lessons Blueblood had crammed into my head over the past weeks. If these fools wanted to waste time with their posturing then I’d have to make sure their antics didn’t derail the summit entirely. Luna’s gaze turned toward me, and though she didn’t say anything, the slight incline of her head told me she was ready to support whatever I was about to do.

“Right,” I muttered under my breath as I steeled myself. Time to cut through their bullshit.

I stood, my chair scraping faintly against the stone floor. The sound was subtle but it was enough to shift some attention my way. My height gave me an edge, and I used it, letting my single hazel eye bore into each of the griffon kings in turn.

“Gentlemen,” I began, keeping my tone measured but firm, “you’re here because your nations are teetering on the brink of war. A war, might I remind you, that will cost lives, resources, and stability — not just for your griffons, but for everyone at this table. If your goal is to bicker until your kingdoms around you crumble, by all means, please continue. Otherwise, I suggest we move on to something more constructive.”

King Gerald, was the first to react. His sharp gaze snapped to me, his beak clicking in irritation. “Who are you to lecture us on the affairs of griffons? This is a matter of sovereignty. This is not some Equestrian upstart’s concern.”

“I am no griffon,” I replied evenly, ignoring the way he had said ‘upstart’. “But I know what happens when leaders let pride blind them to the bigger picture. You all claim to be fighting for your griffons, yet here you are, squabbling like hatchlings while those same griffons you swear to protect will be the ones to pay the price.”

Gottfried snorted, crossing his arms. “A convenient argument for an outsider. But you fail to understand the history at play here.”

“I understand enough,” I countered, leaning forward slightly, the polished silver of my arm catching the light. “Your history is the reason you’re in this mess. Three kings. Three claims. One shattered kingdom. You’re all so busy trying to prove your worth that you’re risking everything — including your own thrones, and the one you are all fighting over.”

Gable, the youngest of the three, shifted in his seat. His cerulean feathers ruffled slightly as he glanced between his counterparts. “He has a point,” he reluctantly admitted. “The skirmishes are destabilizing our borders. If this continues, we won’t have a kingdom left to rule.”

“Don’t tell me you’re siding with him,” Gerald snapped, narrowing his eyes at Gable. “You’re as weak-willed as ever, Gable. No wonder your griffons—”

“Enough.” My voice cut through the tension, sharper this time. “Insults won’t solve anything. You’re here because Celestia and Luna extended an olive branch to you all, giving you the chance to find common ground. If you can’t do that, then you’re proving to everyone at this table — and the world — that none of you deserve the throne.”

The room fell silent, save for the faint rustling of wings and the occasional creak of armor. Celestia offered me a faint, approving smile, while Luna’s expression remained neutral, though I caught the glimmer of pride in her eyes.

Gottfried exhaled sharply through his nostrils. “What exactly are you suggesting, Consort?”

“I’m suggesting you set aside your egos, at least long enough to address the issues that brought us all here. You don’t have to agree on who should lead the griffons today, but you do need to agree on how to stop tearing your kingdoms apart. Negotiate a ceasefire. Establish neutral zones. Something. Anything.”

Gable nodded slowly, though his expression was cautious. “A temporary truce could give us time to better assess the situation. But how can we trust each other when trust has already been broken?”

“That’s something you’ll have to work out,” I said, trying my best to keep my desire to sprinkle insults into my words. “But if you keep refusing to talk, your griffons will lose faith in all of you — if they haven’t already. And when that happens, none of you will have a kingdom to lead.”

Gerald’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment before he finally sat back, his posture less aggressive. “Fine,” he muttered. “A truce. For now.”

Gottfried’s feathers bristled, but he gave a begrudging nod. “Agreed. For now.”

Gable let out a soft sigh of relief. “For now.”

I exhaled quietly, the tension in my shoulders easing just slightly. Sitting back down, I glanced toward Luna, who gave me a small smile that was equal parts approval and amusement. Celestia’s voice filled the room once more, her tone calm and steady as she guided the summit’s attendees toward a more productive dialogue.

One problem temporarily solved. Now, on to the next.

“With the matter of the griffon skirmishes momentarily paused,” Celestia said, her voice soothing after all the tension, “we turn to the ongoing trade disputes between Yakyakistan and the Crystal Empire. Prince Rutherford, Empress Cadance, the floor is yours.”

Prince Rutherford huffed loudly. “Yaks trade routes best before Crystal Empire return! Now crystal ponies claim routes like they own them. Yaks not happy!”

Cadance’s tranquil demeanor remained unshaken as she responded. “I understand your frustration, Prince Rutherford, but the Crystal Empire’s reappearance has been a shock for all of us. We are simply trying to reestablish our connections to the wider world. We have no intention of cutting Yakyakistan off from vital trade.”

“Then why routes blocked?!” Rutherford demanded as he stomped a hoof that made the round table tremble.

“Because of misunderstandings, not malice,” Cadance replied gently. “This summit is the perfect place to resolve them. We can redraw the trade routes in a way that benefits both of our nations.”

The exchange continued, but it quickly became apparent that neither side wanted to escalate this dispute into something larger. After some measured input from Celestia and Luna, a resolution quickly began to take shape.

“May I suggest,” I interjected, keeping my tone even just as Blueblood had instilled into me to do, “that we send a mediator to oversee the agreements? Someone neutral, who can ensure both sides are heard.”

Celestia inclined her head slightly. “An excellent idea. Prince Rutherford, Empress Cadance, do you agree?”

Rutherford grunted in such a way that sent his massive head bobbing. “Yaks agree, if mediator fair.”

“Of course,” Cadance replied with a gracious nod. “I trust Equestria to choose someone suitable.”

Celestia’s gaze shifted between the two. “Prince Blueblood has experience in such matters. He will serve as mediator.”

A smile came to me. Blueblood would definitely fit right in with the yaks and crystal ponies. I can’t wait to inform him of his newest assignment.

With that settled, Celestia smoothly transitioned the discussion to the next topic. “Now, we must discuss the increasing threat of rogue dragons.”

The mere mention of dragons altered the room’s atmosphere in an instant. All eyes were drawn inexorably to Dragon Lord Torch. His immense frame loomed over his end of the table, a living mountain of scales and muscle. For a moment, his expression froze — like a beast caught in a hunter’s trap. Then, his molten-orange eyes narrowed, scanning the gathered rulers with a sharpness that promised he was no cornered prey.

“Rogue dragons,” he rumbled, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber. “A disgrace to the name of dragons. They are weaklings who have abandoned the traditions of the Dragon Lands. They bring shame to all dragons.”

“Shame isn’t the only issue,” Gable interjected, his tone sharper than before. “Their raids have been devastating. Villages have been burned, resources stolen, lives lost.”

Prince Abraxas nodded gravely. “The rogue dragons have also turned their greed toward Farasi. They have pillaged our trade routes and burned entire villages and outposts to ash. Their appetite for destruction and plunder grows unchecked.”

Celestia’s brow furrowed. “Equestria’s naval routes have suffered as well. This cannot continue.”

Torch let out a low growl, the sound akin to distant thunder. “It seems these rogues have forgotten the power of a true dragon. They grow bold. They think they can act without consequence.”

“And what will you do about it, Dragon Lord?” Gottfried asked, his tone skeptical. “Words alone won’t stop them.”

Torch’s glare silenced the griffon king. “I will remind them why dragons obey the Dragon Lord,” he spat, his voice like molten stone. “They think themselves above the laws of the Dragon Lands, but they are wrong. I will make an example of them. Those who refuse to submit will face my wrath.”

The room fell silent at his declaration. There was no mistaking the finality in his tone. He would kill the rogue dragons. Some of them at least. Torch’s solution was brutal, but it was clear he believed it necessary. I found it hard to feel too bad for the rogues. From the sounds of it they have been busying themselves with butchering the innocent.

Celestia inclined her head. “If you require assistance in coordinating with affected nations, we are willing to provide support.”

Torch snorted. “I’ll handle the rogues. If they flee into your lands, deal with them as you see fit.”

I could practically feel the tension easing in the air as the leaders began to discuss the logistics of addressing the rogue dragon problem. Torch’s decision to act in such a decisive manner had provided a path forward, and it seemed to put the gathered rulers at ease.

As the discussion continued, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow breath. Two down. The summit wasn’t over yet, but at least progress was being made.

The room shifted again as Celestia raised a hoof, drawing the discussion to a close on rogue dragons. “With that matter addressed, we move on to another pressing issue — one that, I fear, is far more delicate.”

The atmosphere grew thick with unspoken tension. Everyone knew what was coming next. I had managed to shove the topic to the back of my mind — even managing to not even look in her direction. I had kept myself distracted with the other problems focused on by the summit so far.

My pulse quickened, my hand tightening slightly around the armrest of my chair.

I wish the three griffon kings would just go back to snapping at each other.

Celestia’s gaze swept the table, her calm exterior betraying none of the unease I felt gnawing at the edges of my mind. “The changelings.”

The words lingered in the air, like a shadow that seemed to crawl over the gathered leaders. Chrysalis, seated at her end of the table, leaned forward slightly, a slow, mocking smile curving her lips. Her slit-pupiled eyes gleamed with an almost predatory delight, as if she relished the unease her presence wrought.

“Yes,” she purred, her voice a silken dagger. “Let’s discuss my hive.”

The room remained silent, every leader watching her with varying degrees of mistrust and wariness. Torch’s claws scraped audibly against the stone of the table, and Gottfried’s wings twitched as he exchanged a look with Gerald and Gable. For once, all three kings seemed to be in complete agreement.

“I think it’s clear why we’re here,” Chrysalis continued, her voice dripping with theatrical disdain. “You all wish to discuss the starving monsters lurking in the shadows, don’t you?”

“You brought this upon yourself,” Gable snapped, his tone sharp as a talon. “Your invasion of Canterlot—”

“Is irrelevant now,” Celestia interjected smoothly, cutting off the griffon king before he could really get going. “We are here to find a solution, not dwell on past grievances.”

I couldn't help but wonder if Celestia truly believed her own words or if they were merely a mask worn out of necessity. I wondered if she, too, found herself caught in the grip of nightmares, reliving that day in ways she’d never admit. Surely, being here with Chrysalis stirred something within her, no matter how well she masked it. Or had centuries of ruling alone taught her how to swallow discomfort, how to tolerate the intolerable — just as she had learned to endure a thousand years without Luna?

Chrysalis’ smirk widened, her fangs glinting. “Ah, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? None of you trust me. None of you care about my hive.”

“No,” King Gerald interjected coldly. “We don’t.”

Luna’s hoof pressed lightly against my thigh. My jaw tightened, but I kept my silence, unwilling to let Chrysalis see the effect she had on me.

Celestia’s expression remained serene, though there was an edge of steel in her voice when she spoke again. “The changelings are starving, Queen Chrysalis. Tell us how dire the situation is.”

Chrysalis’ amusement dimmed, replaced by something far darker. Her gaze swept the table, her expression unreadable for a long moment before she finally spoke.

“It is worse than you can imagine,” she began, her tone low and venomous. “The love we siphoned from Equestria during the invasion sustained us for a time, but it is long gone now. My drones grow weak, their wings tattered, their chitin cracking. The nursery chambers are silent now. Eggs fail to hatch, and those that do… don’t survive long.”

A heavy pause followed her words, the revelation settling over the room.

“The hive itself has begun to wither,” she continued, her voice dropping further, almost to a growl. “Our tunnels collapse. Resources are scarce. Even I am not immune to this hunger.”

Her gaze snapped to Celestia, and the familiar venom returned, sharp and pointed. “But of course, you knew this already, didn’t you? That’s why you ordered me here. To parade my misery before this little ‘summit’.”

“This is not a spectacle,” Celestia replied firmly. “We need to understand the severity of the situation if we are to determine the appropriate course of action.”

Chrysalis laughed bitterly. “And what will you do, Celestia? Extend the hoof of mercy to your parasites on a leash? I think not. None of you will.”

Her words hung in the air, her scorn obvious. Around the table, the other leaders averted their eyes or shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to meet her gaze.

She was right. None of them would help.

The tension in the grand hall was practically suffocating. An oppressive weight had settled over my shoulders and made it difficult to breathe. The air buzzed with quiet murmurs, but my attention was fixed, locked on the figure of Queen Chrysalis.

I couldn’t keep my gaze from her for long. My single remaining eye locked onto her, tracking every movement, every flicker of that predatory grin. Memories of her laughter — cold and sharp as broken glass — echoed in my mind, mixing with the phantom pain of my lost arm, my sealed eye, and the memory of Aldin’s death.

She had taken so much from me. My right arm. My best-buddy. My peace.

I clenched my left hand under the table, the curves of Luna’s crescent moon engraved into Promise’s pommel grounding me, but even that felt like a distant comfort in this moment. The room blurred for a moment as the memories surged, unbidden and merciless.

The hiss of her magic cutting through flesh.

Aldin and I’s emphatic link severing; with Aldin’s emotions vanishing as he died.

The mocking tenderness in her mimicry of Luna’s voice.

Promise ending it all.

Luna’s presence beside me was soothing, but it wasn’t enough to keep the nausea at bay. My love for her — the thing Chrysalis had drained so cruelly — pulsed in my chest like an open wound. I wasn’t sure what scared me more: the depth of my hatred for Chrysalis or the fact that I could somehow see her as more than a monster. Somewhere beneath the malice and cruelty was a queen who loved her hive.

A mother who loved her children.

Thorax had proven to me that changelings are more than what I thought of them to be. He was living proof that they were not parasites. He showed me that they could hope, dream, feel, and grow.

And yet, here Chrysalis was, her prideful sneer challenging the room, daring anyone to oppose her.

“Your hive is starving,” Celestia said, her voice calm but firm as she addressed her. “You’ve come to this summit seeking aid. If you are willing to cooperate, there are avenues we can explore.”

“Cooperate?” Chrysalis scoffed, her tone dripping with venom. “You mean grovel, don’t you? Let’s not pretend this is anything more than another attempt to humiliate me. As if this ‘Geas’ was not enough.”

Her words stirred murmurs among the delegates. The Three Kings of the Griffons exchanged glances, their talons tapping on the table. Dragon Lord Torch snorted smoke through his nostrils, unimpressed by the changeling queen’s theatrics. Even Twilight was frowning, and I could tell that she did not see this going anywhere good.

I kept my silence, unwilling to speak yet. My jaw tightened as I studied the queen. She was playing a game, one where her ego and her desperation were constantly at war. Every biting remark, every haughty gesture, was a shield to hide her weakness. Her children were starving and dying. Thorax’s family was starving and dying.

The proud queen who had once drained me of my love before murdering me, now sat at a table begging for scraps. Whether she admitted to it or not — she was groveling.

Damn… she is absolutely terrible at it.

“You claim to love your hive,” Luna said, her tone was icy, regal, and commanding — a few of the aspects I adored about her. “Yet here you sit, refusing to set aside your pride long enough to secure their survival. Do you believe your stubbornness will feed them, Chrysalis?”

Chrysalis bristled, her wing twitching. “Don’t presume to lecture me about love, Luna. I’ve sacrificed more for my children than any of you could possibly understand.”

I couldn’t stop myself. The words spilled from me before I even realized I’d spoken. “And yet it’s your pride that is killing them now.”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to me. Chrysalis’s gaze snapped to mine, her expression darkening. Her smile twisted into something sharper, crueler. “Ah, the consort speaks,” she drawled, her voice filled with mockery. “Tell me, Sebastian, what wisdom do you bring? Or are you just here to glower at me with that one eye of yours?”

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edge of the table, but I didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, I took a slow breath, and steadied myself. “You think I don’t understand sacrifice?” My voice was low and cold as ice began to fill my veins. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to lose everything? My arm, my eye, my best-buddy, my life — your hive alone didn’t just take those from me. You did.”

Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and I pressed on. “But even after everything, I can see what you’re too blinded by your arrogance to admit. Your hive is dying, Chrysalis. Your children are starving, and it’s your fault. Not mine. Not Luna’s or Celestia’s. Yours.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the room’s tension thickened like a storm cloud had made its home here. I could feel Luna’s gaze on me, but I didn’t look at her. My focus remained on Chrysalis.

“You claim to love them,” I continued, my voice growing harder. “Prove it. Stop hiding behind your pride and let us help.”

Chrysalis laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. “Help?” she sneered. “It’s no secret that none of you truly want to help my children. Why would you—”

“Enough,” I interrupted, standing tall as I slammed my silversheen hand against the table, the black light of Decay just barely kept at bay. The sound echoed through the chamber, and silenced her. “I’ll find a way.”

“Y-You… what?” Chrysalis finally managed, her voice uncharacteristically uncertain.

“I’ll find a way to feed your hive,” I said firmly, my voice steady as I commanded the curse of Decay to yield. “I’ll find a real solution — not stolen love, not manipulation, but rather something sustainable. I don’t care how much you’ve taken from me. They don’t deserve to suffer because of you.”

Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. For the first time, Chrysalis looked genuinely shocked, her mask of arrogance slipping just enough to reveal a hint of what might have been desperation mixed with hope. The room has gone silent. Every delegate sat frozen as they watched the exchange.

I leaned forward, resting my hands on the table as I met her stunned gaze. “This isn’t for you, Chrysalis,” I spoke just loud enough for my words to reach her from across the table. “This is for Thorax. Thorax, and the rest of his siblings.”

Chrysalis’s expression twisted, her lips curling back to bare her fangs, but the anger in her eyes was no longer directed entirely at me. Her pride warred with something else — fear perhaps, or desperation. Both, most likely.

Chrysalis sneered, but her voice lacked its usual venom. "You think you can just march into my hive, take a look around, and fix everything? You truly believe that you can solve what I cannot?"

Her words were harsh, but I had already glimpsed the cracks in her façade. I allowed myself a moment to think before replying. "I can try. But I’m not going to take your word for anything, Chrysalis."

Her laughter was sharp and bitter. "And what, exactly, do you propose? That I give over the location of my hive on some naïve promise? That I trust you not to destroy what little remains of my children while you’re there?"

"You’ll show me your hive," I said evenly, "but not through words. Through memory."

That silenced her. Chrysalis stared at me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Memory?" she echoed, her tone mocking. "And how do you propose to achieve that? With one of your pitiful spells?"

“Yes,” I replied, ignoring her weak attempt at a jab. “Through the Share Memory spell. You’ll show me the exact location within your hive. Then, I’ll see it for myself. I need to see it in person."

Her wing buzzed faintly, a reflexive sound of irritation — or perhaps unease. I had seen the same reaction plenty of times from Thorax before we’d set free one of his siblings, but I had never expected to see it on her. "You think I would let you into my mind, to pick through my memories like some sort of scavenger? You truly believe I would allow such an indignity?"

"You’ll allow it," I countered, my voice calm but firm. "Not because of the Geas. Not because I’m ordering you. But because your children are starving. If you truly care about them, then you’ll let me help."

Her eyes blazed with fury, but I could see the hesitation beneath it. The room remained deathly quiet, every eye on us. Even Celestia, so often composed, looked tense with her hooves pressed tightly on the table. Luna’s presence beside me was reassuring, her silence as much a message of support as anything she could have said given the situation.

"You presume much, Consort," Chrysalis hissed, but her voice lacked its usual edge. She seemed to hesitate, her gaze flashing between me and Luna. "If I do this, it will not be out of trust. Do not mistake this for anything other than necessity."

"That’s all I’m asking," I replied, my tone carefully neutral. "Necessity."

She didn’t move at first, her stillness stretching the moment tight. Then, in one sharp, almost defiant motion, she rose and stalked toward me. There was elegance in her steps, but it was a pale imitation of the authority that lived in my memories. The specter of command lingered around her, but it was thin and frayed at the edges. She had always looked down upon those before her, and perhaps she expected to do the same now. But when she reached me and I rose to my full height, something flickered in her eyes — she hesitated.

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought she might refuse with some venomous insult. But then, something shifted in her posture. Her wings twitched again — what remained of them — and she regarded me with a calculating gaze, her mask of arrogance slipping further.

"You want a memory, Sebastian?" she spat, her voice dark with something between fury and resignation. "Then take it."

The bitterness of her words pressed against me like a challenge, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I lifted my left hand, steady and unshaken, and extended it toward her. "Unfortunately, this requires physical contact."

Her lips twisted into a snarl, but she extended a hoof, placing it in the palm of my hand. Her touch was cold, her carapace smooth. I closed my eye, my mind focusing as I murmured the incantation under my breath. My silversheen fingers moved through the air in precise patterns, the spell’s energy weaving like threads of silk.

A moment later, the magic took hold.

Images flooded my mind, sharp and vivid. I saw the hive through Chrysalis’s eyes: dark, twisting tunnels carved into the earth, illuminated by faintly glowing green resin. The walls were cracked and crumbling, sections of the hive collapsed or dangerously unstable. Changeling drones shuffled weakly through the passages, their movements lethargic, their bodies gaunt.

The memory shifted, showing the heart of the hive — a vast, hollowed-out chamber where Chrysalis’s throne once stood. Now, it was cracked and broken, the resinous structure barely holding itself together. The air was heavy with the oppressive scent of despair and death.

But what surprised me the most was the emotions that bled through the memory — Chrysalis’ emotions: desperation mixed with sorrow.

The memory took only a fraction of a second to reach my mind, but it felt like an eternity. When the spell ended, I pulled my hand away, my jaw tight as I processed what the spell had shown me.

The memory had to have been a lie somehow. It must have been some sort of fabrication to lead me astray. Chrysalis wouldn’t allow her hive to reach that point willingly. She must have shown me an older memory. Yes, that must’ve been what that was — some memory from the past used to trick me.

I remained silent, and so did Chrysalis. Her gaze was inscrutable. Whatever she was thinking remained locked behind that unreadable stare.

I turned to Luna. She was already on her hooves, her eyes carrying a cold sort of resolve.

"I'm going to the hive," I said. "I need to see it in person."

"Then I will accompany you," Luna answered, her decision made in an instant.

I gave a brief nod and wrapped my fingers around her hoof. No matter what awaited us, I knew one thing: there was no one I trusted more to have at my side.

Without another word, I focused on the memory Chrysalis had shared, letting the image of the hive’s heart fill my mind. The incantation for Greater Teleport slipped from my lips, and the spell’s power surged around us. I heard Chrysalis speak one last time, her voice low and tinged with something that almost sounded like hope.

"You truly are insufferable. Don’t blame me if you regret what you find."

No. It was just more manipulation. It must be.

The world shifted, the familiar pull of teleportation took hold. And then, in an instant, Luna and I were gone.

We arrived in darkness.

The heat was immediate, oppressive, and clung to my skin like a second layer. The air reeked of decay — thick and sickly, the kind that settled into the lungs and refused to leave. My remaining eye adjusted to the dim glow of green resin pulsing faintly from the walls, its light warping the jagged tunnels into almost alive. The pathways stretched and twisted in every direction, barely holding together, just as the spell had revealed.

Luna stood close, a steady presence against the unease creeping into my mind. Her gaze swept across the crumbling passage, sharp and unreadable, though the slight flare of her nostrils betrayed her distaste for the stench.

"Perhaps Chrysalis wasn’t exaggerating," she murmured, her voice tinged with something akin to disappointment.

I didn’t reply. My attention was pulled toward movement in the shadows — a changeling drone emerging from a side tunnel. Its chitin was dull and cracked, its limbs moving sluggishly as though the air itself weighed it down. The moment it saw us, it froze, its glowing blue eyes widening, caught between fear and suspicion.

Instinct took over. My fingers curled around the hilt of Promise as I prepared to unsheath the blade. Luna noticed. A silent shift of her wing brushed my hand in a silent gesture of restraint.

The drone hesitated before stepping forward. When it spoke, its voice was hoarse and fragile. "Are you... here to kill us?"

I stilled. The question landed like a blow. My grip on Promise tightened before I forced my hand to relax, my fingers easing away from Promise’s hilt. I glanced toward Luna — her stance remained firm, but something in her eyes had softened.

"No," I said, my voice firm as my words echoed faintly in the hollow tunnel. "We’re here to assess the situation. Nothing more."

The drone didn’t look convinced. Its wings trembled. It took a step back, like it had just realized how close it stood to something that could end its life.

"Mother said you might come," it whispered. "She said... she said you hate us."

A sharp pang shot through me, something cold curling in my gut.

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to say the words weren’t true. But even in my own mind, the words felt fragile and cracked under the weight of too many contradictions. Hatred wasn’t what brought me here, not exactly, but neither was forgiveness. What did they expect of me? To act as though everything had been wiped clean? To ignore the scars that still ached, the shame festering in the silence, the grief that still bled from my heart? Could I say, with any real certainty, that I wasn’t here to settle something within myself?

Luna stepped in before the silence could stretch too far. "We are not your enemies," she stated, her voice as steady as steel. “Your queen permitted our presence. If we meant you harm, you would already know."

The drone shuddered, its gaze darting between us before it slowly nodded. "If... if you want to see... follow me."

It turned, each step down the tunnel hesitant, as though the ground beneath it might give way.

We walked in silence, the oppressive atmosphere growing thicker with each step. More changelings appeared as we moved deeper into the hive. They watched us from the shadows, their gaunt faces and emaciated frames painting a grim picture. Some whispered to one another, their voices tinged with fear and suspicion. Others simply stared, their expressions unreadable.

When we reached the heart of the hive, I realized that Chrysalis’s memory hadn’t done it justice. The vast chamber was worse than the memory. The throne was indeed broken, the resinous structure visibly sagging under its own weight. The walls were cracked, large sections were crumbled to the floor. Pools of stagnant water collected in the uneven ground, and the air buzzed faintly with the weak, sporadic movement of insectile wings.

Luna stepped forward, her gaze sweeping across the chamber. Her expression was unreadable, but I could practically feel her judgment — her pity. I stayed close, my hand resting lightly on Promise’s pommel, though I doubted I would need to draw it. The changelings here weren’t a threat. Not in this state.

"Sebastian," Luna whispered softly, her voice laced with something close to sorrow. "This is... grim."

Before I could respond, my eye caught movement near the far end of the chamber. A group of changelings were huddled together, their bodies pressed close as if trying to share what little warmth they had. One of them — a youngling, barely larger than Mira — lifted its head to look at us. Its eyes were dull, its frame skeletal.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, my pulse pounded in my ears. Memories of chaos and bloodshed surged to the forefront of my mind — the screams, the faces of those I couldn’t save. And yet, as I stood here, confronted by the raw reality of their suffering...

They are victims too.

Like Citrine Dream. Like Meridin. Like Aldin.

The thought turned my stomach. I wanted to harden myself against pity, to keep pretending I could dismiss them all as monsters. Pity felt dangerous, pity was a weakness I couldn’t afford. Pity led to hesitation, and it was hesitation that allowed the changeling that wore Luna’s visage to steal half of the world’s light from me. If I had not been injured before my battle against Chrysalis, perhaps I would still have my arm.

Aldin would still be here.

If Aldin were here he’d probably hop over to the youngling and ask me if he could keep it. If Aldin were here… If Aldin were here he’d be ashamed of me. Ashamed that I’m even hesitating to help those in need. Ashamed that I had even considered killing the scared changeling that had led us here.

Then my thoughts turned to Thorax — brokenness was etched into every part of his hive, his family, his home. The weight of their suffering pressed down on me. The truth, no matter how much I wanted to suppress it, stared back at me: they didn’t deserve this.

Luna turned to me, her eyes searching my face. "What do you think?"

"I think..." I began, but my voice faltered. I took a deep breath, and forced myself to focus. "I think Chrysalis wasn’t lying."

Luna nodded, her expression grim. "We have seen enough. Let us return to the summit."

I hesitated, my gaze lingering on the youngling. Its eyes met mine, and for a moment I saw something there — hope, maybe? Fear? I wasn’t sure. But it further fueled my shame, and urged me to action.

I reached out to Luna, taking her hoof in my hand. I pictured the meeting room in my mind as I spoke Greater Teleport’s incantation. Even as I finished the incantation, I was unable to look away from the youngling.

That face would be burned into my mind, at least until I fixed all this.

The world shifted again, the oppressive heat of the hive was replaced by the cooler air of the summit meeting room. We stood exactly where we had left, the summit’s attendees attention turning to us as we spontaneously reappeared.

Chrysalis watched me in silence, her expression blank and devoid of the mockery I’d come to expect from her. She neither smirked nor sneered but rather sat still at the massive round table, her gaze distant and unfocused. When her eyes met mine, it wasn’t with recognition but with a detached awareness, as though she were looking through me.

"We will talk," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, though every word felt like a step toward my own doom. “After the summit. We will talk.”

With those words spoken, Luna and I returned to our seats beside Celestia and Twilight. And to my surprise, no one asked what had happened during our absence, instead they went about their discussions as though nothing of importance had occurred. It didn’t take me long to realize why: none of them wanted to know. None of them cared to know.

Deep down, they would prefer if the changelings simply ceased to exist entirely.

To these rulers, changelings were nothing more than pests — leeches on the body of the world. Monsters that fed on love and left scars on the soul. They weren’t individuals to be reasoned with; they were a blight to be eradicated or forgotten. A problem better left to starve in silence than be addressed outright.

And somewhere in the darkest depths of my heart, a part of me still agreed. Despite everything I’d learned and experienced, a part of me was still that terrified man about to die.

I smiled then, a grim expression that seemed to fit perfectly on my mutilated face.

I remembered how brave I’d been back then, how I’d clung to hope that someone — anyone — would come to save me. But reality had crushed that fantasy, and Promise had come down to show me the harsh truth of this world — of every world: when you need a hero, when you cry for salvation, there will only be yourself.

No one came for Citrine Dream.

No one came for Meridin.

No one came for Aldin.

No one came for me.

I am a fool. An immensely stubborn and reckless fool with a bleeding heart.

Because I wanted to prove that truth wrong.

I want that youngling to grow up and say that a hero came to their hive one day, and saved them all.

And so, foolish as it may be, I will try.

I will try to save them all.

The meeting had devolved into predictable rhetoric by the time I tuned back in. Words flew around the room like arrows with no targets — each aimed at scoring points, none meant to land anywhere that mattered.

Torch rumbled something about strength dictating survival, his gravelly voice accompanied by the occasional plume of smoke that curled into the vaulted ceiling before escaping out a vent. The Griffon Kings nodded approvingly at the lord of dragons. Prince Rutherford banged a hoof on the table, shouting something about yak honor and the yak way of life, his bluster almost drowning out Abraxas’ attempts to steer the discussion back toward something half-resembling diplomacy.

Celestia remained poised and impassive, her practiced smile giving nothing away. She was the perfect image of composure, but I’d known her long enough to catch the faintest edge of weariness in her eyes. Luna, seated beside me, was less subtle than her sister. Her ears twitched at every dismissive comment, and her wings shifted restlessly against her sides. She didn’t look at me, but I could feel her attention turning to me. She was waiting for the moment I’d crumble under the weight of it all, just in case I needed her.

If I was being honest, I was holding myself together by a thread.

I couldn't ignore her now. Every time Chrysalis moved, even a little, a spike of adrenaline coursed through me. My stump itched against the Wizard’s Arm, phantom pain twisting through scars that could never truly heal. My eye kept darting toward her, unbidden, as though she might pounce the moment I looked away.

But she didn’t.

A part of me wondered if she even could.

Now, she sat in silence, her earlier interjections replaced by an eerie stillness. Her posture was slouched, her shoulders sagging in a way that felt alien for someone so usually proud. The jagged stump of her severed right wing twitched once in a brief involuntary spasm, before stilling again.

The changelings' plight had been laid bare, and the mask she wore — the cruel smirks and biting words — had crumbled under the despair of it all.

"Sebastian," Luna’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, soft yet firm. She leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against me. "Are you all right?"

I blinked, startled by the question. I wasn’t all right. I hadn’t been all right since the moment Chrysalis reappeared in my life. But lying to Luna felt impossible, wrong even. "No," I admitted, my voice quiet. "But I’ll manage."

She didn’t push further, though her frown remained. Instead, she pressed against me, her wing unfolding to wrap around me. The warmth of her closeness offered me a fleeting, invaluable sense of peace. This defied every lesson Blueblood had drilled into me about maintaining composure among rulers, but I found I couldn’t bring myself to care. None of them would call attention to it, because doing so would mean facing the reality they so comfortably ignored: that they had already condemned the changelings to a slow death of starvation.

Luna had stood by me, even when I had been too lost in my own agony to see it. I didn’t deserve her.

The meeting dragged on.

A tentative ceasefire was officially brokered among the three griffon kings, and they even managed to establish a neutral zone for their negotiations. How long such peace would hold, I couldn’t say. Even here, thousands of miles removed from their contested borders, their murderous glares promised that bloodshed was merely delayed, and not averted. The brewing trade dispute between Prince Rutherford and Cadance remained shelved, most likely to be duly nipped in the bud in the near future thanks to Blueblood’s intervention in smoothing over such trivial matters. Prince Abraxas gained some measure of assistance for his zebras, who suffered after repeated rogue dragon raids. Surprisingly, Twilight took the lead in those negotiations. Whether Dragon Lord Torch’s oath to punish the rogue dragons would hold remained to be seen, though the fire in his eyes suggested a reckoning was imminent.

Despite the tangible progress in some areas, it all felt hollow to me — this ‘progress’ was likely to be easily undone by the whims of time or circumstance. The relief efforts for Abraxas and the minor trade dispute between Yakyakistan and the Crystal Empire seemed to be the only agreements with a chance of enduring. Of all the topics discussed, none ventured near the plight of the changelings. Not a whisper of their struggles, not even a glance in Chrysalis’s direction since our return from her hive.

At last, the summit adjourned.

The delegates left in their respective clusters. Torch lumbered out first, shaking the room with each step. The griffon kings exited together, their silence charged with unspoken threats pointed towards each other. Prince Rutherford stormed off, huffing and muttering something about the choice in lighting. Cadance flashed a genuine smile before promising to catch up with us all, then she too departed.

Luna stayed close, her serene demeanor grounding me in the wake of the tension-filled meeting. She spoke to Celestia and Twilight in a tone equal parts calm and deliberate, the epitome of composure. Yet, when her gaze turned to me, her concern was laid bare.

"Come," she murmured gently once Celestia and Twilight had vacated the room. "You’ve endured enough for today, my love. Let us leave this place."

I opened my mouth to agree, but movement at the edge of the room caught my eye. Chrysalis hadn’t left. She sat alone now, her stillness unnerving, her eyes staring through the far wall as though seeing something no one else could.

Luna noticed too. Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might use the Geas to order Chrysalis to leave, or perhaps to order her to bash her face into the round table. But then her expression softened, and she turned to me. "Do what you must," she murmured. "I will wait for you outside."

She didn’t wait for a response, her hoofsteps silent as she left the room.

I hesitated, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Part of me wanted to walk away, to leave Chrysalis to her silence. She wasn’t my responsibility. She wasn’t my problem.

And yet… she was. She had become my problem the day of my ascension — when Meridin placed the Geas that subjugated her to Equestria, subjugated her to me.

Besides, I couldn’t ignore her. Not after what I’d seen in her hive.

I approached her slowly, my boots scuffing against the marble floor. She didn’t react, not even when I stopped beside her. Her gaze remained unfocused, her expression entirely unreadable.

"Chrysalis," I said, low but firm.

She blinked, her eyes slowly turning to meet mine. For a moment, she said nothing, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, finally, she spoke.

"What do you want, Consort?"

I sighed, lowering myself into the seat beside her. The cool wood pressed against my back as I leaned against it, staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

"I don’t know," I admitted.

Chrysalis let out a bitter laugh, a sharp and hollow sound that cut through the silence of the now empty chamber.

"You don’t know?" Her voice carried its usual edge, but there was a distinct lack of venom behind it, only exhaustion was there.

I didn’t snap back. I didn’t have the energy for it. Instead, I glanced at her, watching the faint tremble in her frame, the way her tattered mane hung limp over her face. She looked like a husk — barely an echo of the proud and ruthless queen who had brought Equestria to the brink and killed me.

She wasn’t that queen anymore.

From the looks of it, that queen had died shortly after I did. When the Geas was placed and her children had begun to starve and die at her hooves.

“I think…” I started, my words slow and deliberate. “I think I can create something that might help your hive.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, sharp and incredulous. "Help my hive?" she repeated, her tone laced with suspicion. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I don’t expect you to believe anything," I replied. "But in the past I’ve created an item that used the Share Memory spell to allow the user to relive past memories. And when I used the same spell on you earlier I felt your emotions through the memory." I hesitated, unsure how much detail to give her. “It would be a combination of the spells Share Memory and Intensify Psyche. If it works, it could give your changelings the sustenance they need without—”

“Without stealing it,” she interrupted, her voice tight. Her eyes narrowed, though there was no malice in her expression. “You think you can replace love with magic?”

“Not replace,” I corrected. “But substitute. It wouldn’t be perfect, and I don’t expect the results to be half as good as true love, but it should be enough to keep them from starving or needing to resort to stealing it.” My gaze dropped to the table, my fingers tracing the grain of the wood. “It’s not for you. It’s for them.”

Her silence stretched between us like a chasm. I didn’t look at her, didn’t dare meet her eyes. The sensation of her gaze was more than enough.

I suddenly wished that Luna was here.

“And why,” she said finally, her voice softer now, almost at a whisper, “would you do that? After everything I’ve done to you, to your friends, to your city — why would you help me?”

I let out a long, slow breath. “Because it’s what Aldin would have wanted.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Her eyes widened, just for a moment, before her expression shuttered again. I didn’t give her time to respond. I didn’t want to see whatever reaction she might have. Instead, I stood, the chair scraping against the floor as I pushed it back.

“You can hate me,” I said, my voice steady. “You can doubt my intentions. But if this works, your hive will have a chance. And that’s more than you or I could have hoped for when this all started.”

She didn’t respond. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her expression unreadable once more. I waited a beat longer, then turned and walked away.

The cool night air greeted me as I stepped into the hall. Luna’s moon hung high in the sky now, casting its silver light through the windows of the castle’s newest wing. Luna stood a short distance away, her silhouette framed by the glow of her moon. She turned at the sound of my approach, her eyes searching mine.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly before she took a single step closer, her voice hardening. “Do I need to have a word with her?”

I pursed my lips, and for a moment considered siccing Luna on the queen, but instead I shook my head. “No need for that. I did what I needed to do.”

Her expression was unreadable for a moment, then she nodded. “Come, my moonlight,” she spoke, her tone turning gentle. “Let us find our nephew.”

The summit was still in full swing, with those who followed the rulers partaking in various diplomatic activities, but the rulers themselves had mostly retreated to their chambers for the night. The corridors of the castle stretched before us, quiet except for the occasional pair of Lunar Guards who snapped into salutes as we passed.

"Do you think he’ll have survived?” I asked, glancing at Luna.

Her lips curved into a sly smile. “Blueblood? Oh, I suspect he’ll have endured. Though I imagine his patience has been tested to its limits.”

I chuckled softly as we rounded a corner, and the faint sound of muffled whining reached my ears. I slowed, exchanging a glance with Luna. She tilted her head, her ears swiveling forward.

The whining grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable high-pitched voice of Mira.

“...but, Uncle Blueblood, you said you’d tell me a story! A real story, not just some boring thing about trade routes!”

We entered the lounge to find Blueblood sitting on an overstuffed armchair, his mane slightly disheveled and his usual immaculate appearance marred by a frazzled expression. Mira stood before him, her tiny bat-like wings flapping for emphasis as she glared up at him with the unrelenting determination of a child denied dessert. She was still wearing the Teashades of Night, the oversized, tinted glasses perched slightly askew on her snout, giving her an air of rebellious charm as her golden eyes burned with indignation.

“I told you a story,” Blueblood retorted, his voice dangerously close to a whine of its own. “It was educational!”

Mira stomped her hoof. “It was boring! I want a story with monsters and heroes and—” She gasped, her golden eyes lighting up as she spotted Luna and me. “Uncle Sebastian! Auntie Luna!” She darted toward us, her little legs a blur as she practically tackled Luna’s foreleg.

Luna’s expression softened instantly as she bent down to nuzzle Mira. “Hello, my little star,” she said, her voice warm. “Have you been behaving?”

Mira hesitated, glancing at Blueblood before she mumbled, “Mostly…”

Blueblood let out a loud, exaggerated groan, throwing his head back against the chair. “She’s been a terror!” he declared. “Do you know how many questions one small creature can ask in an hour? Because I do now.”

Luna chuckled, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I stepped closer. “Come on, Nephew,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder with my flesh hand. “She couldn’t have been that bad.”

Blueblood leveled a glare at me that could have curdled milk. “She wanted to know why the moon doesn’t fall out of the sky. In detail. Do you know how much astronomy I remember from school? None. None at all.”

Mira peeked up at me, her expression the perfect picture of innocence behind those shades. “It’s not my fault Uncle Blue-Bored doesn’t know anything,” she said matter-of-factly.

I stifled a laugh, but Luna didn’t bother hiding hers. Blueblood shot us both a look of pure betrayal.

“Well,” Luna said, her tone one of mock seriousness, “perhaps we’ve been too harsh on you, Nephew. Mira can be quite… inquisitive.”

“She’s a menace,” Blueblood muttered under his breath. “A tiny, adorable menace.”

Mira beamed at the word ‘adorable’ and flapped her wings, the shades slipping slightly down her snout. “See, I’m not a menace!”

Blueblood opened his mouth to retort, but I cut him off with a grin. “Mira, why don’t you go grab your things? We’ll take you back to your mother.”

“Okay!” she chirped, darting off toward a corner where a small pile of toys and a stuffed bat plushie that I’d never seen before sat.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Blueblood slumped in his chair, looking as though he’d aged ten years. “Never again,” he exclaimed. “I’ll negotiate with dragons, I’ll endure another Zebratian rhyme party — but foalsitting? Never again.”

“Speaking of negotiations…” I began, my grin widening as Blueblood’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Yakyakistan and the Crystal Empire are having a bit of a… misunderstanding. And since you’ve proven yourself so adept at handling difficult situations…”

Blueblood stared at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” I said cheerfully. “Congratulations, Nephew. You’ve been chosen by Celestia to broker the trade dispute between the two.”

The look of sheer horror on his face was almost enough to make me feel guilty.

Almost.

Synthetic

After three days the summit finally concluded.

Those three days had been nothing but lip service. Each ruler tried to squeeze just a little bit more out of deals prior made, and very little was actually done to improve much of anything really. There was very little for me to do during the proceedings besides sit next to Luna and look confident. Which was an easy thing to do, given my scarred face. I just had to sit, scowl occasionally, and sneak a squeeze of Luna’s hoof when no one was looking.

Chrysalis had vanished into her chambers after our last conversation in the summit meeting room and hadn’t emerged since. She claimed it was to remain nearby in case I required assistance with my efforts to feed her hive, but we both knew that was nothing more than a weak excuse. Accessibility was never an issue, I could reach her at her hive in seconds with a casting of Greater Teleport.

So why stay here with those she despised?

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. A part of me itched to ask, but an even larger part hoped she’d keep her distance forever. If she wanted to shut herself away, I had no reason to stop her. That was fine by me. The less I had to acknowledge her existence, the better.

At her command, her honor guard had left Canterlot, and returned to the hive without her.

Now, with the summit over, and Chrysalis’ honor guard long gone, only two outsiders remained — Chrysalis and Thorax.

A single candle gave light through the castle library, casting long shadows against the towering bookshelves. The scent of old parchment and ink hung in the air, welcoming me like an old friend as I flipped through yet another alchemical tome from Farasi — a parting gift from Prince Abraxas himself. Since the summit’s conclusion, I had scoured these texts relentlessly, chasing the faintest whisper of an answer. Something. Anything. A foundation upon which synthetic love could stand.

At the far side of the room, Thorax sat cross-legged on the floor as he watched Mira bounce around him like an overexcited puppy. She still wore the Teashades of Night, the oversized lenses slipping down her snout as she giggled. Thorax, to his credit, endured her antics with a good-natured patience, though I could see the occasional twitch of his wings — a clear indicator that his instincts were telling him to flee.

“Again, again!” Mira chirped, hopping onto his back and holding onto his neck like a tiny, bat-winged barnacle.

Thorax sighed but complied, standing up and giving a slow, exaggerated spin in-place. Mira squealed in delight. “One more time, Mira, then I really have to help Sebastian.”

I smirked, barely glancing up from the text in front of me. “Don’t let me stop you. I’m sure your input on changeling biology is far less important than entertaining my little apprentice.”

Thorax shot me a flat look but said nothing as he completed another lazy spin before gently setting Mira down. She huffed, clearly unsatisfied, but plopped down beside him with a pout.

Turning my attention back to the tome before me, I frowned. The idea of a potion seemed like a viable one at first. If love was an energy that could be harvested, perhaps it could also be distilled, concentrated into a form that changelings could consume like a tonic.

But the more I thought about it, the more problems I saw.

First, the ingredients — what would I even use? Any components that carried emotional resonance would need to be carefully monitored to ensure purity, and where would I even find such a steady supply? Love wasn’t something that could simply be plucked off a shelf after all.

Second, someone would have to brew the potions. It would require precision and consistency — something I could not entrust to just anyone. Not to mention the logistics of distribution. Who would oversee it? Who would ensure the potions weren’t tampered with? The potential for sabotage was simply too high.

Third, cost. Equestria was not in need of funds by any stretch of the imagination, but to supply the changelings with synthetic love via potions would dwarf any price tag that any nation on Equis has paid in recent memory by multiple factors. That price would be to start the mass production of synthetic love potions, to keep said production going indefinitely would likely bankrupt Equestria in a few decades, likely sooner.

I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose with my silversheen fingers. No, this simply wasn’t sustainable.

“Hit a wall?” Thorax asked, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

I nodded. “Potions won’t work. Too many variables, too much room for error, too expensive. We need something self-sustaining that won’t bankrupt Equestria.”

Thorax drummed a hoof against his chin. “Love isn’t something you can just easily bottle up, you know. It’s not a material thing — it’s felt, shared. That’s why Chrysalis does more than just collect it. A queen circulates it, feeding the hive through herself..”

That fact hadn’t changed. The hive still needed love to survive, and Chrysalis played a key role in it. Thorax had explained when we first started on this search for synthetic love that changeling queens are biologically attuned for the distribution of love. I clenched my jaw. I wanted to circumvent her entirely, to render her obsolete in this regard, but without her, it would take me far longer to figure out an alternative solution.

That was a problem.

The hive’s survival still depended on love, and Chrysalis was central to its flow. When we began this endeavor, Thorax had explained that changeling queens were biologically tuned for this process — natural conduits for the emotion that sustained their kind. I ground my teeth. My desire had been to cut her out entirely, to make her unnecessary. But as the hours dragged on, the truth pressed down on me — I might not be able to do this alone. If time weren’t an issue, I knew I could uncover a solution without her. But time was an issue, and I was running out of it.

Time was not a luxury that we have. The hive’s existence hung upon whether or not I could provide them with food. Without it they would continue to starve, they would continue to die.

My gaze turned to Mira, who was now sprawled across the floor, drawing nonsense shapes in the air with Prestidigitation. Then, an idea began to form — something that didn’t require constant brewing, monitoring, the risk of outside interference, the inevitability of an economic collapse, or Chrysalis.

The Crystal Heart.

Not the real thing, of course. But something similar — something that could radiate synthetic love, drawing from memories and magic instead of true love.

I leaned back in my chair, my mind already piecing together the spellwork. The Share Memory spell could provide the initial emotional imprint, and Intensify Psyche would amplify the imprint, making it something tangible. Originally I was planning to incorporate the spells into the potion making process, but if I could weave those spells together into an artifact instead…

Thorax tilted his head. “You’re thinking about something.”

I met his gaze and smirked. “I think I just figured it out.”

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

That was a lie. I had figured out absolutely nothing.

As it turned out, distilling memories into a single pure emotion, and trying to implant said emotion into a vessel to be food for an entire species was far more complicated than I had anticipated.

The process started with modifying Share Memory to isolate only the emotional imprint, severing it from context and detail. That alone took me a few days of tinkering and spellcraft. Then, with Intensify Psyche, I could amplify the extracted emotion, ensuring it was strong enough to be used. That part, at least, was easy.

Then came the real challenge: containment. The vessel needed to be resilient, something that could endure the passing of time and sustain the strain of an entire hive feeding from it. But no matter what I crafted, each attempt failed. The first shattered under the weight of the spellwork itself, unable to handle the strain. The next two failed upon activation, and unraveled into useless fragments.

It was frustrating.

No other magical item had ever resisted me like this. Complex? Certainly. My Belt of Physical Perfection and Laurel of Vision had taken many weeks of meticulous labor to reach the point that they’re at now, but I had never once doubted that I could complete them. This? This had me questioning myself.

When the third vessel crumbled to useless fragments of silver and gold, my patience was nearing the breaking point.

I exhaled sharply, scraping the ruined remains of my latest failure off the table. Fine motes of silver and gold dust caught in the candlelight as it formed into a loose pile on the floor, evidence of another wasted attempt. Mira watched from the floor, her ears twitching in silent understanding, but she remained focused on Thorax, keeping him entertained as best she could. She knew what was happening to him, and his siblings. She never once asked, but I could tell she knew.

Thorax was laughing — an exhausted, thin kind of laughter — while Mira animated little floating lights in the shape of tiny creatures. They danced in the air, mimicking his movements as he flicked a hoof through one. He looked tired.

No. Not just tired.

Hollow. Hungry.

His chitin was far duller than it had been when he first arrived, and his ribs were beginning to show beneath the plates of his chitin. The hunger was eating him, same as it was eating his hive. I had told him to feed on me when he needed to, but he refused. He was adamant to never feed on another living being again. To be honest, I was glad that he refused. The thought of being fed upon again was unthinkable, but the thought of losing another friend was worse.

Time was running out.

We needed this to work.

But it wasn’t working.

My mind cycled through every possible alternative, trying to find an answer that didn’t lead back to Chrysalis. A different spell maybe? A different material perhaps? If I could replicate the exact properties of the Crystal Heart—

No.

The Crystal Heart functioned as it does because of Cadance’s bloodline. It had been created with magic that directly tied it to her very being. That was why no one else could use it the way she could. That was why it worked.

And that was why my Synthetic Heart wasn’t working.

It needed an anchor. A connection to the changelings strong enough to make it more than just an average magical item. More than just a simple repository of emotions.

It needed to be attuned to a queen.

My silversheen fingers curled against the table’s edge, while my flesh hand tightened until my knuckles ached. I had spent all this time trying to circumvent Chrysalis, trying to craft a solution that didn’t involve her. But in the end, all roads led back to her.

If I wanted this to work — if I wanted Thorax and his hive to survive, if I wanted the face of the youngling to leave my mind's eye — then I would have to face the one creature I never wanted to see again.

I would have to speak with Chrysalis.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from my shoulders as I turned away from the wreckage pile of another failed experiment. The remains of silver and gold glinted under the candlelight, mocking me.

Another wasted effort. Another dead end. Another physical manifestation of time squandered.

Thorax and Mira were still occupied, her little floating lights weaving in playful loops around his hooves. He wasn’t laughing anymore, though. He was watching me, his tired, sunken eyes filled with a quiet understanding that made my stomach twist.

He knew where I needed to go. He knew what would happen if I didn’t. He looked ready to accept either choice.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

Thorax’s ears flicked, his gaze shifting toward the door. “I’ll take Mira back to her room,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “She’s had a long night.”

Mira huffed and pushed the teashades further up her snoot. “But I’m not tired, and it’s still early in the night!”

Thorax gave her a look.

“…Fine,” she muttered, her wings drooping slightly as she extinguished her floating lights. She glanced at me, her fangs pressing into her lower lip. “Are you gonna be okay?”

I flexed my silver fingers, and flashed her a smile filled with a level of confidence that I did not feel. “I’ll be fine, Mira.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Thorax nudged her toward the door, leading her out of the room. The door shut behind them with a quiet click, leaving me alone with candlelight and my failure.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, then exhaled sharply and left the castle library.

The castle was quiet.

Most of the guests had left after the summit, leaving only the guards and staff to inhabit the empty halls. The vast corridors stretched before me, their emptiness made more pronounced by the flickering glow of wall-mounted sconces. My footsteps were quiet against the polished stone, but even that slight noise seemed to intrude upon the stillness.

I took my time.

I didn’t want to do this. Every step felt heavier than the last, my instincts urging me to turn back, to walk away. My skin felt tight, stretched over too much tension. My pulse thrummed, too loud, too fast. Being near Chrysalis had always been unpleasant, but now? Now, it was unbearable.

But there was no other choice.

What would become of Thorax, his hive, and the youngling haunted me, leaving me with no alternative.

As I neared her guest quarters, I slowed. The hallway was empty now. The blackened wood of her door stood alone against the pale marble walls, an unwelcome landmark at the end of my path. The changeling guards who should have stood vigil here were gone, sent away with the rest of her honor guard.

She was alone.

Good.

I didn’t want an audience for this.

I took another step — then stopped.

A sound drifted through the heavy wood door.

Faint. Muffled. Unmistakable.

Crying.

I stood there, listening.

It wasn’t the guttural, rage-filled kind of someone furious at the world. It wasn’t the exaggerated, performative wailing of a manipulator seeking pity.

It was quiet. Raw. Fractured.

The kind of crying one does when they believe no one is listening.

I lingered, caught in hesitation, simply listening. I should leave, give her time, return later when she had composed herself. But would she? And how many more changelings would die while I waited for her to pull herself together? How many lives would be lost because I hesitated again?

A shuddering sob slipped past the door, and my frown deepened.

Gods, I hated when people cried.

Slowly, I moved forward.

I raised my left hand and rapped my knuckles against the door.

No response.

I knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing.

I exhaled through my nose, forcing down the unease curling in my stomach. My heart was already hammering from just being here, my pulse quickening with every second I lingered in this hallway. Every instinct screamed at me to leave, to put as much distance as possible between myself and whatever had shattered Chrysalis’ carefully cultivated mask.

But I stayed. They needed me to stay.

Gritting my teeth, I called out, “Chrysalis.”

Nothing.

The crying didn’t even hitch. No sharp intake of breath, no sudden silence. Either she hadn’t heard me, or she was too far gone to care.

My silver fingers twitched at my side, instincts urging me to turn away. This wasn’t my problem. This wasn’t my concern. I had done what I came to do — I had offered her the chance to engage, and she had ignored it. That should be enough.

But it wasn’t.

Because I knew the truth now.

I had seen the hollow faces of her hive, the illusion of strength she clung to like a lifeline, the way she had gone nearly catatonic the moment the status of her children had been laid bare before me. She wasn’t ignoring me out of spite. She wasn’t ignoring me out of arrogance.

She was breaking.

But, I needed her whole. They needed her whole.

I exhaled sharply through my nose and reached for the doorknob.

It turned easily.

Unlocked.

I frowned. I had expected it to be locked. For all her arrogance, Chrysalis wasn’t careless. She wasn’t the kind of creature who left herself vulnerable — not willingly. So why…?

The door swung inward without a sound.

The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains. The air was thick, stale, like she hadn’t moved since she initially locked herself away.

Then I saw her.

She was on the bed, curled in on herself, her form barely more than a shadow against the silk sheets. Her long, tattered mane spilled over the pillows in a tangled mess, its usual gleaming green dulled in the dim light. Her singular wing trembled with each breath, the thin membrane shuddering as another sob wracked her.

She didn’t notice me.

Didn’t hear me.

Didn’t care.

Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, terror of Canterlot, was crumbling.

And for the first time in my life, I could not see her as a monster, but as something far more dangerous.

A mother on the verge of losing everything.

I stood in the doorway, watching the one I hated most in this world as she wept.

I didn’t know what to do.

I had come here expecting resistance — barbed words, bitter laughter, the same venomous mockery she always used. But this? This was something else entirely. There was no fire left in her, no sharp-edged arrogance. Just a broken thing drowning in silence.

The sight unsettled me far more than her spite ever had.

I should leave. That thought pressed against the back of my mind, persistent, logical. I had done my part. I had come here, I had knocked, I had spoken. I had no obligation to stay.

And yet… I stayed. The Geas subjugated her to me, and Thorax, the youngling, and the rest of her hive needed us to find a means to feed them. Leaving would mean more would die.

I took a slow step forward, then another, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut behind me. The room felt too still, too suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. Chrysalis’ sobs had quieted, but she hadn’t noticed me. Not yet.

I approached the bed cautiously, stopping just short of where she lay curled in on herself. Up close, I could see the way her body shook, the way her hooves clutched at the silk sheets as though holding herself together by force alone.

Her mane spilled over her face, obscuring most of her expression, but I didn’t need to see it. I had seen it before, in Luna’s lowest moments.

Pain like this wasn’t foreign to me.

It was different, yes. Luna’s sorrow had been weighed down by guilt, by a millennia of isolation and regret. Chrysalis’ was something else entirely.

Desperation.

Shame.

Fear.

A mother about to lose her children.

I let out a slow breath, my flesh fingers curling at my side. I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing here, what I was supposed to say. But I had made my choice the moment I stepped through that door.

I moved closer, sitting down beside her on the bed.

She didn’t react.

For a moment, I hesitated. My flesh hand hovered just above her, uncertain. This was a mistake. It had to be. I wasn’t the kind of person who did this. I wasn’t built for comfort, for warmth.

But I had done it before.

For Luna.

For Meridin.

For Citrine Dream.

And, begrudgingly, I forced myself to do it again.

I laid my hand on her shoulder.

Her chitin was smooth beneath my fingers, trembling ever so slightly beneath my touch. She still didn’t react.

She just kept crying.

I sat there for a long, weighted moment, my left hand still resting on her trembling shoulder. The silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the soft, shuddering sounds of her grief. My mind raced — memories of Aldin’s final moments, flashes of that cruel, twisted day, and the cold, unyielding reality of my own death. Each memory was a shard of glass, jagged and painful, slicing through the thin veneer of resolve I had clung to since that fateful day.

It was almost laughable — me, the one who had once clung so desperately to strength, now sitting here, struggling to offer comfort to the one who had caused so much destruction in my life. Chrysalis lay there, wordless, and despite everything, I felt the familiar pull of guilt. I had reached for Luna when her shadows threatened to consume her — offered her the comfort she hadn’t dared to ask for. But now, with Chrysalis before me, I hesitated.

Could I offer that again? Did I have the right?

But the hunger of her children, and the silent stare of the youngling had bound me to her in this tangled web of magic and sorrow that left me no choice. I could not simply walk away, not when there was so much at stake — lives, memories, and the fragile hope that something, however synthetic, could replace the love that was so desperately needed to stave off their starvation.

I cleared my throat softly, an awkward sound that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. I tried to recall the words I might say — something that might bridge the gulf between her despair and the possibility of hope. But every thought was quickly consumed by a paralyzing hesitation. I was no stranger to brokenness, but comforting someone like Chrysalis was something new, something I could never have prepared for.

Slowly, I leaned forward a fraction, my remaining eye fixed on the delicate, unguarded contours of her face. I could see the glistening trails of tears, the way her once-proud posture had crumbled into a paragon of utter surrender.

“What—” I began, my voice wavering with uncertainty. I hesitated, then let my left hand rest there a moment longer, feeling the cold hardness beneath my palm. I was acutely aware of every sensation — of the chill that came from her isolation, of the tender, almost fragile warmth beneath her sorrow. My mind reeled back to the nights I had spent with Luna, offering little more than my presence and my love, hoping it might somehow be enough.

A part of me rebelled against the intimacy of this moment. Every instinct screamed for me to retreat, to bury myself in the familiar armor of indifference and disdain. Yet something deeper, something that connected me to the ideals of redemption, urged me to stay.

I cleared my throat again and finally spoke, my voice quiet even in the silence. “Chrysalis… I—” My words trailed off, swallowed by the weight of our history.

For several long seconds, I said nothing, letting the silence wrap around us. I could practically feel the tension in the air, a storm of emotions I wasn’t sure I could weather. I thought about the lives hanging in the balance, the starving hive that depended on something I couldn’t provide without her. I thought about Aldin and how his death still echoed painfully in my damaged soul. I thought about Luna, whose memory was both my anchor and my wound. And through it all, I realized that my own suffering — my fears, my regrets, my paranoia — had brought me here, to this precarious intersection of hope and despair.

I took another deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs, trying to steady myself. “I know you’re hurting,” I said softly, unsure if my words could ever be enough. “I know… I know you’re hurting.” I repeated the words like a mantra, hoping that they might somehow begin to fill the void of desolation that lay between us.

Still, she lay motionless, lost in her own grief, her breathing ragged. I shifted closer, and reminded myself of the harsh reality that we couldn’t simply wish such darkness away. I placed my hand a bit lower, in a tentative gesture of comfort, recalling all those times I had offered solace to those who had no one.

I wasn’t sure if she would ever understand that I was here not as an enemy, not as the one who had cut off her wing and subjected her to the Geas, but as someone who had seen the depths of despair and still clung to a spark of hope. A part of me trembled at the thought that she might never forgive or even understand my presence here, that all of this might be for nothing and I might one day have to kill her.

And then, Chrysalis stirred.

Her sobs subsided, and her head lifted slightly, eyes red-rimmed and unfocused as they took in the figure sitting beside her. Her gaze finally met mine, and for a moment, I saw the tumult of emotions reflected there — pain, confusion, and the faint glimmer of something else.

“Why… why are you here?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and guarded curiosity.

I swallowed hard, the weight of the question pressing against the stillness. I hesitated, unsure of how to answer, caught between the compulsion to flee and the desire to save those who have no one.

I inhaled slowly, gathering my thoughts, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Because I need your help.”

Chrysalis blinked at me. She looked as if I had struck her, as if the very idea of those words coming from my mouth was impossible.

A bitter laugh forced its way past her lips. “My help?” she echoed, voice hoarse. “You—” She sucked in a sharp breath, as though trying to hold herself together. “You, of all creatures, need my help?”

My silversheen hand curled into a fist, but I didn’t let the reaction show beyond that. “Yes.”

She turned her face away, her tangled mane obscuring a portion of her face. “Then you really must be desperate.”

“I am.” I let the admission settle between us. There was no use pretending otherwise.

Chrysalis let out a slow, shuddering exhale, but she didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between us, thick with everything unspoken — hatred, regret, necessity.

I shifted my position, letting my left hand fall from her shoulder to rest on my knee as I leaned forward. “The Synthetic Heart isn’t working,” I continued, knowing very well that she had no idea what a ‘Synthetic Heart’ even is. “It has everything it needs — magic, stability, love — but it isn’t connected to the hive. It’s nothing more than a vessel for emotions. It needs something real to attune to. It needs…” My throat tightened around the words. “It needs you.”

Her shoulders trembled, but she didn’t move. “You want me to help you craft a mockery?” she whispered, her voice barely holding together. “A soulless imitation of what we need to survive?”

I clenched my jaw. “It’s the only way to stop them from starving.”

She let out another bitter laugh, though there was little humor in it. “And what if I refuse?”

I studied her carefully, watching the way she curled into herself, how her hooves clutched at the blankets around her. The cracks in the mask she wore were a mile wide now — the fear, the exhaustion, the self-loathing — were all easily visible to me. And now that I had seen those cracks, the mask would never fool me again.

“I don’t think you will.”

Chrysalis tensed.

I let my words settle before I continued. “Because I saw them. I saw what’s happening to them.” My breath was steady, but my heartbeat wasn’t. “And I know you did, too.”

Her breathing hitched.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” I pressed. “Pretend that this is about pride. Pretend that you’re still the same queen who tried to conquer Canterlot and Equestria, who convinced herself she was invincible. But I know what I saw.”

Finally, she turned to face me, her slit-pupiled eyes filled with something raw.

“I know what it’s like to lose family, Chrysalis,” I murmured. “And I know what it’s like to live with that. You don’t want to lose them. You don’t want this.”

She inhaled sharply, the sound almost wounded. “You—” Her voice wavered. “You think I don’t know that? That I haven’t thought about it every waking second?” Her hooves shook. “Do you think I want to watch my children wither away? Do you think I want them to look at me like I’m the reason they’re dying?”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

I didn’t move. I just watched her, letting the storm inside her rage.

Her breathing was uneven, ragged, but she didn’t lash out. She just sat there, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven motions, caught between fury and despair.

And then, in the quiet that followed, I asked, “Why did you leave your door unlocked?”

The moment the words left my lips, I saw something flicker in her expression.

Something I didn’t understand.

Chrysalis froze. Whatever storm had been raging behind her eyes went deathly still, like the moment before a structure collapses in on itself. She turned away, staring at nothing, her hooves gripping the blankets with a strength that belied the exhaustion weighing her down.

Seconds passed. Too many.

Then, in a voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear it, she said, “Because I thought you would come to kill me.”

The words sank into my mind like a dagger. I blinked, unsure if I had misheard. “What?”

Chrysalis exhaled, a bitter, fractured sound. “That’s what you and the moon princess want, isn’t it?” The bitterness in her tone did nothing to mask the hollow certainty beneath it. “I knew the moment you found a way to sustain my hive without me, you’d have no reason to let me live. No reason to suffer my existence.” A mirthless chuckle scraped from her throat. “And you’d be right.”

A slow dread settled in my chest, but I kept my silence.

She shifted, pulling the blankets closer as if they could shield her from the truth. “I failed them,” she whispered. “I let them starve. So many are already... I—” Her voice faltered, something fragile breaking beneath it. “If I had been stronger… if I had been wiser… if I hadn’t been so stupid—” She cut herself off, her words catching in her throat.

Still, I said nothing.

Her remaining wing trembled against her sides, something previously unthinkable from someone that had once carried herself like a queen above all others. “You’ve seen them,” she forced out, each word scraping out like a confession torn from her soul. “You know what I’ve done to them. How I let them suffer because I was too proud, too blind—” Her voice cracked. “They shouldn’t have to look at me anymore. They shouldn’t have to see the thing that failed them.”

Her jaw clenched, fangs pressing together hard enough that I could hear it. “I left my door unlocked,” she admitted, voice void of anything but quiet resignation. “Because I wanted you to do what I cannot.”

The confession pressed down like a stone in my chest. I studied her — the way she curled inward, the way the once-imposing figure before me had shrunk into something that barely resembled the creature I had fought, hated, feared.

She wasn’t lying.

She had wanted me to end this, to kill her.

The realization curdled something in my stomach. It wasn’t just that she thought I would do it. It was that she had wanted me to. That she had expected me to.

I thought of Luna, of the nights she sat with me beneath her moon, when the world felt smaller and safer. The whispered truths we shared, so fragile yet so unbreakable. That the past was not a cage. That even those who saw themselves as monsters could choose another path.

I thought of Aldin. His snark. His unwavering loyalty. His final moments, stolen by the same creature curled before me now. Would he forgive her? Could he? I recalled our final moment together in Pharasma’s court — he had already moved on.

I thought of Thorax and his siblings, starving and desperate for a future that teetered on the edge of a blade.

I thought of Nocticula, a being once consumed by evil, now walking the long road of redemption. If even she could claw her way out of the Abyss, defy her succubine nature, and seek redemption…

I thought of myself. The scars I carried. The pieces of me that would never grow back, that would never heal. The ghosts that followed my every step.

And then, finally, I thought of Chrysalis.

Of the choices that had brought her to this moment, each one a wound, each one a bleeding consequence. Of the pain she had suffered, the pain she had inflicted. Of the weight of ruling she carried, a jagged crown of her own making, pressing ever deeper into flesh and chitin.

I inhaled slowly.

“No.”

Chrysalis flinched as if struck, her head snapping toward me. Her expression twisted — shock, anger, disbelief. As if she hadn’t once considered the possibility that I might refuse.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I said.

Her lips curled, her voice a sharp, bitter thing. “Why not?”

I met her gaze, steady and unwavering. “Because, after everything that’s happened, I understand why you did it.”

She tensed, but I saw it — the flicker of something behind her eyes, something uncertain

“You’ve left wounds on me that will never truly heal,” I continued, my voice steady despite the rawness of the truth. “You took things I can never get back. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate you for it.”

Chrysalis remained still, but the tremor in her hooves betrayed her. A silent readiness, as if she expected the worst — that I would extend my Wizard’s Arm, let Decay take hold, and let Decay consume her without a word. Not long ago, she would have been right to assume that. Before the summit, I wouldn’t have stopped myself.

“But,” I continued, my tone softening, “you didn’t do it for yourself. You did it for them. And maybe… maybe that means there’s still something left in you worth saving.”

Her expression was unreadable, but she didn’t look away.

I didn’t either.

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. Chrysalis didn’t move, didn’t breathe — not in any way I could see. Her slit-pupiled eyes searched mine, looking for the lie, the trick, the hidden dagger waiting to strike. But I gave her nothing. Only the truth.

I had meant every word.

I wasn’t here to kill her.

Her lips curled, but the usual bite was missing. “You’re a fool.”

I let out a breath as I nodded. “Yeah. Turns out dying isn’t much of a cure for that.”

Another beat of silence. Then, finally, I repeated my earlier request, “Will you help me complete the Synthetic Heart?”

She stared at me as if I’d spoken in a language she didn’t understand. Her shoulders rose, her exhale slow and drawn out. “You’re asking me to help you make something that renders me irrelevant.”

“No. I’m asking you to help me create something that will ensure that your children never go hungry again.” I lifted a silver finger, pointing at her. “And you won’t be irrelevant, Chrysalis. The Synthetic Heart isn’t a replacement for you — it needs you. Without you, it won’t even work. I can’t even make the damned thing work without your help.”

Something shifted in her expression, too fast and too subtle for me to name. She inhaled sharply through her fangs, and turned her head away. The blankets pulled tighter around her, her remaining wing pressing tight against her side. I didn’t rush her.

Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but clear. “Fine. I’ll help you.”

I should have felt relief. Maybe even satisfaction. But all I felt was a quiet sort of exhaustion settling deep into my bones.

Chrysalis exhaled, straightening slightly. “Give me a few minutes,” she muttered, her voice scraping at the edges of something I couldn’t quite name. “I need to make myself ready.”

I nodded once and stood. She didn’t watch me go. I stepped toward the door, my footfalls steady against the cold stone, and let myself out without another word.

As the door shut behind me, the dim hallway stretched before me, empty and quiet at this hour. My body felt too tight, too restless, my pulse a steady hum of tension beneath my skin.

I started walking.

Back to the library. Back to the work that would change everything.

Heart

The castle’s halls swallowed the sound of my steps, my boots meeting stone in a rhythm that should have been steady but felt just a little too quick. My pulse beat beneath my skin, a quiet hum of tension that refused to truly settle.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected from Chrysalis, but what she expected from me, and the way she agreed to help with the Heart sat uncomfortably in my thoughts. There was something in the way she spoke, something fragile and jagged all at once. I wasn’t sure if I had given her hope or just taken something else from her.

What surprised me was that I hoped for the former, rather than the latter.

The library door came into view, and I took a moment to exhale slowly before making my way inside.

The library’s familiarity was a necessity after my interaction with Chrysalis. The flickering glow of the singular candle cast long shadows across the shelves and illuminated the wooden table in the center of the room.

Luna sat there, her posture composed but unmistakably alert as she examined a fragment of one of the failed vessels retrieved from the pile of silver and gold resting on the floor beside the table. Her regalia caught the dim light, glinting with each slow breath she took. The moment I entered the room she lifted her head, and her eyes locked onto me with a quiet sort of intensity. She must have ended Night Court early to be here. I could see it in the slight crease around her eyes, in the way her wings twitched with concealed tension.

She had been waiting for me.

Across from her, Thorax sat hunched over, looking more exhausted than I had ever seen him to be. His insectile wings drooped slightly at his sides, and the faint glow of his eyes were dimmed with weariness and hunger.

I closed the door behind me, and Thorax lifted his head at the sound, barely able to force a tired smile onto his face. “Sebastian. You’re back.”

Luna’s gaze never left me. “You took longer than expected, my moonlight.”

I exhaled, stepping closer. “Yeah.”

Something flickered in her expression. Concern. Maybe frustration. But she said nothing.

Thorax shifted in his seat, his ears folding back. “I, um… ran into Luna and Noctra when I was bringing Mira back to her room. I told her where you went.” He hesitated before glancing between the two of us. “I — uh — I should probably get going.”

Luna inclined her head slightly. “Yes. Rest well, Thorax.”

He hesitated. For just a moment he looked as though he were debating with himself whether or not to say something more. But in the end, he nodded and pushed himself upright from his chair. “Good night,” he murmured as he made his way toward the door.

I stepped aside to let him pass, watching as he trudged out into the hall. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

The library held its breath in the wake of Thorax’s exit, the only movement coming from the candle’s flickering glow. Shadows danced, shifting over Luna’s face, but her eyes never wavered. They remained on me — watchful, expectant.

She said nothing at first, but I could feel the intensity of her gaze, the silent scrutiny as she took me in. I knew what she was looking for — signs of strain, anything that might confirm the unspoken worry pressing behind her eyes. I wasn’t sure what she saw, but whatever it was, her lips pressed together slightly, and her wings gave another small twitch.

I pulled out a chair beside her and sat down. The old wood creaked under my weight. My left hand found the edge of the table, fingers pressing into the grain. I didn’t want to talk about it — not yet, maybe not ever — but I owed her something.

No. I owed Luna everything and more.

“She agreed,” I said, my voice low. “Chrysalis agreed to help with the creation of the Synthetic Heart.”

Luna exhaled, slow and measured, but her ears flicked back. “Did she try anything?”

“No.” I hesitated. “Not like that.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Then how?”

I ran my flesh hand down my face, my palm rasping against my scarred face, before letting it drop onto the table. “She looked at me like she didn’t understand why I was asking her. Like she wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that I wasn’t trying to get back at her, that I wasn’t there to kill her.” My fingers curled slightly against the wood. “And I think that scared her far more than if I had.”

Luna was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she set the fragment of one of the failed vessels she’d been inspecting back onto the pile on the floor. The metal clinked softly against the others. “Good,” she said at last. “Let her be afraid.”

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. “That’s not…” I trailed off, biting down the rest of the words before they could leave my mouth. Luna knew. She knew what I meant, just as she knew how much I despised the way my own feelings kept shifting, refusing to stay in a neat, defined shape. Hatred should have been easy, should have been second nature after all that Chrysalis had done to me and those I loved. But then I saw her hive, saw her starving children, saw the way the world was ready to let them all starve to death, and suddenly it wasn’t easy at all.

In my mind’s eye I can still see them. The youngling still looked on from where it sat. Hunger, desperation, and a silent pleading look in its eyes.

Luna’s wings shifted slightly at her sides, but she didn’t push the matter. Instead, she asked, “How long?”

I knew exactly what she meant.

“A few minutes,” I murmured. “She said she needed to… make herself ready.”

A quiet noise escaped Luna’s throat, something between disapproval and grim amusement. “More like gathering herself after her humiliation.”

I huffed a breath, not quite a laugh. “Maybe.”

The silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy. Weighted with things unsaid.

Luna reached out, her silver-clad hoof brushing lightly against my knee. Just a touch. A brief connection. “She will not be alone with you.”

It wasn’t a question.

I glanced at her, finding the steel in her gaze. There was no room for argument there — not that I had any intention of making one. “I know, thank you.”

She gave me a smile as her hoof lingered for a moment longer before she withdrew, sitting back. “Then we wait.”

We waited.

The candle burned lower, its flickering glow casting shifting shapes across the library’s towering shelves. Shadows stretched and twisted with each breath of the flame, but I barely noticed.

I took a slow breath, letting Luna’s presence surround me.

Lavender and the crisp scent of the night. Familiar. Comforting. A quiet warmth curled in my chest. This was home.

A sound intruded.

Hoofsteps. Slow. Deliberate. The sound drifted down the corridor, each step measured, each one drawing closer.

And then the library door creaked open.

Chrysalis entered.

The candlelight caught her form as she stepped forward, weaving between the shifting glow and the darkness beyond the doorway. She carried herself with measured poise, but the dim illumination made her look leaner, more worn. Or maybe she had always looked this way, and it was only now — without the shield of her bedsheets — that I could truly see it.

Her slit-pupiled eyes swept the room, lingering briefly on me before snapping to Luna.

Luna didn’t move. She didn’t need to. The weight of her presence alone was enough to fill the space between them, a silent warning crackling like the charge before a storm. Her wings were tucked neatly at her sides, but I could see the faintest tinge of tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze locked onto Chrysalis with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.

Chrysalis held her ground, but I didn’t miss the way her wing flexed — a ghost of instinct, a reminder of something that wasn’t entirely there.

The silence stretched, heavy and brittle as the two sized each other up.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I realized that blood might actually get spilled tonight instead of the work that needed to be done. “Please don’t kill each other.”

Luna didn’t so much as glance at me. “I make no promises.”

Chrysalis bared her fangs in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Nor do I.”

I dragged my left hand down my face again in exasperation. “Perfect.”

Chrysalis stepped further inside, her gaze shifting to the pile of failed vessels beside me. Her expression flickered, unreadable, before settling into something cool. “And here I thought you had a talent for the creation of magical items.”

I exhaled sharply, brushing a few of the lingering silver and gold dust on the table. “It’s a delicate process.”

She hummed, stepping closer. “I imagine it would be easier if you didn’t insist on using precious metals.”

“Precious metals tend to hold the arcane better,” I replied simply.

Chrysalis scoffed. “They also shatter when not handled correctly.”

I arched a brow. “If you’re already doubting my craftsmanship, feel free to leave.”

Her lips curled, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down, her movements precise, almost too controlled. I noticed the way she settled into the seat, a quiet weariness beneath the sharpness. The hunger had taken more of a toll than I’d realized.

Just like it had taken a toll on her children, on Thorax.

Luna remained silent at my side, her presence solid and unwavering. I could feel her watching, measuring every shift, every breath.

I let out a slow breath. “Chrysalis, I don’t need your help until we reach the final steps of the Synthetic Heart’s creation.”

Chrysalis’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Then why am I here?”

“Because we’ll need you to attune to it as soon as possible once I complete the vessel,” I replied evenly. “Besides, if you’re not involved from the start, there’s a chance the magic won’t take to the vessel or won’t attune to you as well as it should.”

Her gaze flicked to the ruined vessels again. A muscle in her jaw twitched. “And how long until that point?”

I rolled my shoulders. “Depends. If this next vessel is like the last one, then not long. Tonight.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose but said nothing.

I glanced at Luna, half-expecting a cutting remark aimed toward Chrysalis, but she only nodded once, her focus shifting to me.

I could feel the weight of her trust in that look — the love that wrapped around my heart with just a mere glance of her eyes.

It calmed me.

I turned back to the table, pushing aside the remains of my failures.

The next vessel needed to be perfect. No cracks. No weak points. Strong enough to hold the spells, resilient enough to endure the attunement and the demands that would be made of it.

I fished what I needed from my Bag of Holding. My fingers brushed over the raw materials laid out before me. Silver and gold, waiting to be shaped.

I picked up my tools.

And I began.

The rhythmic scrape of metal against metal filled the library, a steady sound that had become very well known to me since my first attempt at crafting the vessel. The scent of melting silver and gold curled in the air, sharp and clean, as my magic willed the material into a more pliable state. My focus narrowed as I worked, my flesh hand along with my silversheen hand deftly guiding the shaping process. Each movement had to be precise. The vessel needed to be seamless, flawless — anything less, and it would fall apart like the last three.

The world beyond my work faded.

The weight of the tools in my grip, the way the metals softened and melded under careful application of heat and magic — it was all-consuming. There was no room for error, no space for distraction.

Which was why I barely registered the rising tension between Luna and Chrysalis.

Their voices were a dull murmur at first, the edges of their words lost to the meticulous rhythm of my craft.

Then Luna scoffed, the sound sharp enough to cut through my concentration for the briefest moment.

"Do not delude yourself, changeling," Luna’s voice carried an edge, the kind that would send any lesser creature cowering. "The only reason you still draw breath is because my consort has decided your miserable existence should serve a higher purpose."

Chrysalis let out a slow, venomous chuckle. "And yet, here we are. Tell me, princess, how does it feel to be reduced to this? Sitting across from your greatest enemy, forced to tolerate her presence while she assists your beloved?"

Luna’s reply was instant, icy. "Do not inflate your ego by assuming that you are my greatest enemy. I do not tolerate you. I endure you — for him."

"You speak as though your approval matters to me." Chrysalis’s tone dripped with mockery. "It doesn’t. I agreed to this arrangement for my hive. Not for you. Not for him."

"Then do it. And keep your mouth shut," Luna snapped. "Or do you insist on proving how insufferable you truly are?"

Chrysalis hummed, unbothered. "I think you’re just angry that you cannot strike me down like you so desperately want to."

“If not for Sebastian, you would be nothing more than a forgotten stain in the pages of history.”

I didn’t stop working, didn’t lift my gaze, but I felt the weight of Luna’s words settle in the room like a storm cloud ready to break. The truth in them was undeniable. If it weren’t for my involvement, for the Synthetic Heart, for my insistence that the changelings were worth saving — Chrysalis would be dead.

She knew it.

They both did.

Chrysalis leaned back in her chair, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows across her gaunt features. "Then it must be frustrating for you, knowing that your precious consort doesn’t share your thirst for vengeance." She paused, her voice dipping into something almost thoughtful. "I wonder — does it ever cross your mind that, perhaps, he sees something in me that you don’t?"

The air in the room turned razor-thin.

Luna’s voice dropped to something lethal. "Tread carefully, insect."

Chrysalis smirked, knowing she’d struck a nerve. "Oh, but you hate that, don’t you? That he sees me as something more than a monster? That he has to force himself to remember that not all changelings are the ones who maimed him?"

My grip on my tools tightened. A flicker of heat pulsed through my chest, though I didn’t let it shake my focus. Do it for Thorax. Do it for the youngling. Do it for those who have no one to save them.

Chrysalis was testing how far she could push.

Luna’s wings twitched, her entire form taut with barely restrained fury. "You will never be anything more than a parasite. No matter what he tells himself."

Chrysalis’s smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming. “And yet, despite that, he still chose to help me. Me.”

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Luna stood. The scrape of her chair against the floor was deliberate, controlled — but her presence swelled, a primal sort of magic curling like an unseen current in the air.

Chrysalis held her ground, but I caught the flicker of something beneath her bravado. Hunger? Fatigue? An awareness that she was playing with fire and was about to be burned for her hubris?

I wasn’t sure.

But I wasn’t about to let this escalate.

I exhaled sharply. "Enough."

The single word cut through the space of the library like a blade.

Silence followed.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

But the tension remained, simmering beneath the surface.

I didn’t lift my head, didn’t give them the satisfaction of acknowledging whatever power struggle they thought they were having. Instead, I kept my focus on the vessel, the delicate work in my hands.

This had to work — for Thorax, for his siblings, for the future of all changelings. Every second wasted was another step closer to death, and time was not on their side.

I set down my tools with deliberate care, the faint clink of metal against wood punctuating the silence that followed. The vessel was complete. The silver and gold heart gleamed in the candlelight, the surface unmarred by any imperfections. A small victory, but the final step was next and I wasn’t entirely sure that it would work as intended.

Only then did I lift my gaze.

Luna and Chrysalis were in each other’s faces, their postures rigid with barely restrained hostility. Luna’s wings flared slightly, a subconscious display of dominance, while Chrysalis remained coiled, her fangs just barely visible between the part of her lips. The air between them crackled with unspoken threats, their glares locked in a silent battle of wills.

I rolled my shoulders, the movement easing some of the lingering tension in my own muscles. "I said enough."

Neither of them looked at me, but the weight of my words settled over them.

Luna was the first to react, though her frustration didn’t lessen. She didn’t look at me — her gaze stayed locked on Chrysalis, her jaw tight. "You should be grateful he holds me back," she murmured, voice lower now, but no less hostile. "If you had any sense, you’d keep your mouth shut before his patience runs out."

Chrysalis chuckled, the sound dry. "Oh, I have no illusions about his patience." She tilted her head just slightly, finally breaking away from the glare she and Luna had been exchanging. Her gaze turned toward me, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "He’s running out of it, isn’t he?"

I exhaled through my nose, keeping my voice steady despite the tension gnawing at me. "You're both wasting time." The last thing I needed was for either of them to notice the way fatigue was pulling at me or the paranoia that had settled beneath my skin. "I don’t care who started it. I care about finishing this."

Luna’s ears twitched in protest. "I was not the one—"

"I don’t care," I interjected, my voice harsher than I meant. Luna shot me a surprised look, her frown deepening, but she didn’t press the issue.

Chrysalis leaned back, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Finally," she said, settling comfortably in her chair. "A little authority."

I shot her a withering glare, and for once, she fell silent. The smirk disappeared, leaving behind an unreadable expression. Luna’s frown shifted into a triumphant smile at the sight.

I ran my fleshy fingers over the vessel, feeling the slight chill of its surface. It wouldn’t last. Without Chrysalis, it would unravel, breaking apart before it ever had the chance to fulfill its purpose. But if she accepted it — if she attuned herself to it — it would hold something extraordinary. Fabricated love, yes, but love strong enough to keep her and her children from starving.

Assuming we could get it to work.

I met her gaze again, this time more measured. "I need you to attune to it."

Her expression flickered — just for a moment — but she schooled it into something unreadable. "Of course," she replied, voice smooth. "That was the deal, wasn’t it?"

Chrysalis’s jagged horn lit with her sickly green aura, the glow casting eerie shadows along the library walls. She reached out, her magic wrapping around the vessel with a slow, deliberate touch, as though testing the weight of the magic within. The silver and gold heart hovered between us, held steady in her grip.

Nothing happened.

For a moment, the vessel remained indifferent, suspended in her aura, its surface reflecting the flickering candlelight. I felt the tension coil in my gut. Had I miscalculated? Had all of this — the work, the arguments, the uneasy truce — been for nothing?

Then, without warning, the vessel warped.

A tremor ran through the heart, the metal rippling as though caught in some unseen current. The gold and silver twisted unnaturally, melting together in a way that defied conventional logic, its shape writhing as if something inside were struggling to break free.

Then came the flames.

Green fire erupted around the vessel, swallowing it whole. The intensity of the blaze forced me to take an instinctive step back, the heat licking at my skin despite the fact that the fire wasn’t truly burning. Chrysalis’s magic flared, her control tightening as she held the heart in place, her expression strained.

The fire didn’t consume — it transformed.

Beneath the flickering green light, the vessel’s metal dissolved into something darker, something organic. The gleaming silver and gold were replaced by black changeling chitin, smooth and hardened like a true exoskeleton. The once-lifeless vessel of silver and gold pulsed, a faint, steady glow emanating from the heart-shaped core now nestled at its center — a vibrant green light, shaped like a flickering flame.

It no longer looked like something I had made. It looked… alive.

The Synthetic Heart.

The room was silent but for the low hum of lingering magic in the air.

Chrysalis lowered the heart onto the table, her gaze fixed on it with something I couldn’t quite name. Her magic remained wrapped around it, hesitant, as if she, too, wasn’t sure what to expect.

Luna’s stance remained guarded, wings partially unfurled. "Is it done?" she asked, her voice cold.

Chrysalis didn’t answer her. Instead, she reached out — not with her magic this time, but physically. Her hoof hesitated just above the Synthetic Heart, barely a breath away.

Then, in one swift motion, she pressed her hoof against it.

The effect was immediate.

It wasn’t a visible change, not at first — but I felt it. A presence, something foreign yet familiar, pressing against my senses. The air thickened, humming with an energy that made the fine hairs on my arm stand on end. Then the green flame at the Synthetic Heart’s core brightened, pulsing outward in a slow, rhythmic wave.

A flood of synthetic love washed over the space.

It wasn’t like real love. Not entirely. It lacked the depth, the raw emotional weight that true love carried, but it was still there — warm, lingering, tangible in a way that should have been impossible. It filled the room like an unseen tide, pressing against my skin, curling around my thoughts. It wasn’t suffocating, but it was undeniable in its intimacy.

Chrysalis inhaled sharply. Her pupils dilated before her eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, her body shuddering as though she had just taken her first breath in weeks. The edges of her frame softened, and tension bled from her posture.

Then, just as quickly as it came, she snapped back. Her eyes opened, locking onto the Synthetic Heart with an expression I couldn’t place. She swallowed, a slow, careful movement, before finally speaking.

"It works."

The words hung in the air, carrying more weight than I expected.

Luna’s expression remained unreadable, but I could see the way her ears twitched, the way her stance stiffened just slightly. She had felt it, too — that flood of artificial warmth, the fabricated love radiating from the Synthetic Heart.

It wasn’t real love, but it was more than enough for the changelings to feed upon.

Chrysalis exhaled, the sharpness in her features smoothing ever so slightly, but I didn’t miss the way she flexed her jaw as though struggling with something she wasn’t willing to say. Her gaze flickered toward me, something unreadable behind her eyes.

I didn’t have the energy to try to decipher it.

Instead, I turned my focus to Luna. "I need to get Thorax," I said, keeping my voice level. "Don’t kill each other while I’m gone."

Luna’s attention snapped to me fully, the tension in her frame shifting. "You shouldn’t go alone," she said immediately.

I held her gaze. "It’s just down the hall."

Her expression didn’t change. "Even so."

I knew what she wasn’t saying. I wasn’t at my best. I hadn’t been at my best in a long time. And after everything that had happened, the last thing she wanted was for me to be alone — even for something as simple as this.

But I needed the space. Even for just a moment. Once this was all over we would have our time together. Soon.

I met her eyes and spoke quietly, meant only for her. "I’ll be fine."

She searched my face, the lines of her expression tight with barely concealed concern, but after a moment, she gave the smallest nod.

Chrysalis made a sound under her breath — something between amusement and exasperation.

Luna’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t speak.

I turned and left the room. I would need to move fast if I were to return with Thorax before Luna put Chrysalis’s head into a long distance relationship with her shoulders.

Since the summit’s conclusion, the hallways had returned to their normal levels of quiet for this time of night. Along the way I passed only a single pair of Lunar Guards, they snapped into their salutes the moment I entered their vision, and I returned it with a small smile and a nod.

With the Synthetic Heart’s creation, the smile didn’t feel forced anymore.

I reached Thorax’s door and knocked.

A faint shuffling came from within before his voice reached me, muffled through the wood of the door. "Come in."

I pushed the door open.

Thorax was still in bed, barely lifting his head at my entrance. His wings twitched slightly, but there was no real energy behind it. His eyes, normally bright with an almost nervous attentiveness, were dimmed with exhaustion. It would appear that I had awoken him from his sleep.

He forced a small, tired smile. "Sebastian." His voice was weak.

I frowned. "You look like shit."

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "Thanks."

I stepped closer. Even from here, I could see the way his body seemed… hollow. His frame, always lanky, looked thinner, his carapace and eyes dulled. His legs, spindly as they were, seemed somehow a bit more fragile than just a few hours ago.

It was the hunger. He needed to feed.

I exhaled, stepping to the side of his bed. "Come on. We’re heading back to the library."

Thorax’s ears flicked back. "I… I don’t think I can get up."

I paused.

Then, without a word, I crouched down and slid my Wizard’s Arm under him.

He barely weighed anything.

It caught me off guard — just how light he was.

For a moment, I didn’t move.

Then, I adjusted my grip and lifted him.

Thorax made a faint, startled sound as I shifted him against my chest, his body light enough that it was almost disconcerting. He was all sharp angles and hollow spaces, his chitin cool beneath my fingers. His legs twitched weakly, but he didn’t protest. If anything, he slumped against me, too drained to argue.

I bit back a curse. He had been running on empty for too long. If we had failed with the heart…

I pushed the thought aside and turned toward the door, carrying him out into the hall. The castle was quiet, the hour late enough only the Lunar Guard remained, but we passed by none on the return trip.

Thorax shifted slightly in my grip. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I… I should be able to walk on my own.”

I snorted. “Don’t be sorry, Thorax. You’re not even strong enough to stand, let alone walk.”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Guess not.”

I glanced down at him, his head resting against my shoulder, his eyes half-lidded. I had seen this kind of exhaustion before amongst his siblings in his hive — deep, gnawing, the kind that settled into a body when it had been deprived of something vital for too long. The hunger of changelings is as similar as it is different with ponies or humans. But for a changeling it wasn’t just about food — it was about love, about an energy that sustained them in a way nothing else could.

Without love… starvation.

And right now, Thorax had not had a drop of love for weeks.

I tightened my grip and picked up my pace. We had only just become friends! I refuse to lose a new friend to something as complicatedly simple as hunger!

When I reached the library, I stepped inside to find Luna and Chrysalis exactly as I had expected them to be — locked in another silent standoff. Luna stood with her wings slightly flared, a subtle but unmistakable show of dominance. Her expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the tension in her frame, the way her magic buzzed just beneath the surface, eager to lash out at a moment’s notice.

Chrysalis, for her part, sat with her head held high, a smirk tugging at her lips, but there was an edge to it — a sharpness that betrayed how aware she was of Luna’s simmering fury. The Synthetic Heart rested between them on the table, still pulsing faintly with its artificial warmth from its center.

Both of them turned their gazes toward me as I entered, their unspoken battle momentarily forgotten.

I ignored them and moved straight to an empty chair, lowering Thorax into it as carefully as possible. He slumped against the backrest, his wings twitching faintly, his breathing shallow.

Luna’s gaze flickered from me to Thorax, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then she turned her attention back to Chrysalis. “Activate it.”

Chrysalis’s smirk widened, but she didn’t argue. She simply reached out, her jagged hoof pressing once more against the Synthetic Heart’s surface.

The pulse of magic that followed was instant.

The air thickened as a fresh wave of synthetic love spread outward, curling through the space in slow, rolling waves. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was undeniably present — a steady, artificial warmth that filled the room.

Thorax inhaled sharply.

I turned to look at him, watching as his body reacted almost instinctively. His wings perked up ever so slightly. He didn’t lunge for it, didn’t devour the energy like a starving animal, but I could see the change happening in real time. The dullness in his eyes lessened, the sluggishness in his limbs easing just a fraction.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. A week or two of feeding upon synthetic love would have him back to normal.

His breath hitched as he exhaled, his gaze flickering toward me. “Sebastian,” he murmured, his voice still weak but a little steadier now.

I nodded. “Just take what you need.”

He hesitated, then closed his eyes, letting the energy settle into him.

Chrysalis watched him carefully, her expression unreadable. If she had any thoughts on the Synthetic Heart’s effect on one of her own, she didn’t voice them. Instead, she simply pulled her hoof away and let the artifact continue its work, its rhythmic pulsing steady and unbroken.

Luna, meanwhile, remained silent, her sharp gaze never straying far from Chrysalis.

I flexed my fingers, both flesh and metallic. We had wasted enough time here. The hive needed to be fed as soon as possible.

“Gather round,” I said, waving everyone close with a silversheen hand. “I’ll teleport us over to the hive. They’ve gone without love for too long as it is.”

I made sure everyone was touching, and the heart was in my hand, before I spoke the incantation for Greater Teleport. The air around us began to hum as the spell’s power surged, the first traces of Greater Teleport coalescing as I focused on our destination — Chrysalis’s hive.

And then, the world blurred.

The sensation of teleportation had become like second nature to me — an instant of weightlessness followed by the sharp pressure of magic as distance collapsed in on itself. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

We arrived in the heart of Chrysalis' hive.

The chamber was as I remembered: massive, cavernous, and crumbling. The throne that once stood as a symbol of her rule was still fractured, its broken resinous form sagging under its own weight. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. But it wasn’t the state of the hive that struck me.

It was the changelings.

Hundreds of them.

They were gathered in clusters across the chamber, their hollow eyes reflecting the sickly glow of luminescent fungi clinging to the walls. Some lay curled together, their bodies weak, their breathing shallow. Others sat rigid, their expressions blank, the movement of their wings a slow, sluggish twitch rather than the rapid, instinctive flutter it should have been.

Many looked up at our arrival. Their gazes, once sharp and wary, held something else now — something dull, resigned.

I had seen this look before.

In the nothingness of Nowhere, when I sat with Meridin around the fire that was fueled by nothing at all. In the eyes of a man who had lost every last piece of himself.

The memory of that moment settled in my mind.

Luna was silent beside me, but I didn’t need to look at her to know she saw the same thing. Felt the same thing.

I stepped forward holding out the Synthetic Heart. “Chrysalis.”

She said nothing as she took it from my hand.

For once, there was no smugness in her movements. No arrogance, no venom. She didn’t look at me, didn’t spare Luna a glance. Her focus was entirely on her hive.

She lifted the Synthetic Heart, her jagged horn igniting in a faint, flickering green glow.

“My children,” she called. Her voice was strong but lacked its usual bite. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a demand.

It was a call.

The changelings stirred.

Some barely reacted. Others turned their heads, their ears turning toward her.

Chrysalis exhaled softly, then pressed her hoof to the Synthetic Heart.

The chamber trembled as the artifact flared to life.

A pulse of synthetic love flooded the space, rolling out in an unseen wave. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was warm. Steady. Something to hold on to.

And the changelings felt it.

A murmur rippled through the gathered crowd. Weak bodies shuddered as the energy settled into them. Some changelings gasped, their eyes widening slightly as strength — however small — returned to their limbs.

Chrysalis stepped forward. “Feed, my children.”

And they did.

Slowly at first. Hesitant. As if they feared the moment would be ripped away. But as the seconds passed and the love remained, they fed in earnest.

The chamber filled with the soft hum of wings, the quiet murmurs of relief.

Luna and I exchanged a glance. I could see the tension in her jaw, the way her stance suggested that she was ready should an attack be sprung. But no attack came.

Instead, we watched as Chrysalis moved among her changelings. She spoke in hushed tones, encouraging them to feed, reassuring those too weak to rise. There was no grand speech, no declaration of power, no backstabbing.

Only quiet words. A mother tending to her starving children.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I turned my head, scanning the crowd, watching the way the Synthetic Heart’s energy moved through the hive.

Then, I saw them.

The ones who didn’t stir.

Bodies lay among the living, their forms indistinguishable at first glance. But then I noticed the way some changelings — those strong enough to stand — moved toward them, shaking them, whispering to them.

No response.

The living began to realize it. Some let out faint, keening sounds. Others simply stopped moving altogether, their gazes locked on the still, motionless forms beside them.

I counted.

Half.

A little under half of the changelings in this chamber had starved to death.

My left hand gripped at Promise’s pommel.

Chrysalis didn’t react.

She knew. She had known long before we arrived.

Half of them. Gone.

The Synthetic Heart continued to pulse, sending slow, incorporeal waves of synthetic love across the space, but it would do nothing for the dead. It was too late for so many.

Chrysalis didn’t stop moving. She barely looked at the unmoving bodies. She knew. She had known long before I even came seeking her help with the heart’s creation. She had known long before she even arrived to Canterlot for the summit.

I wanted to hate her for the absence of grief, for not even trying to pretend to mourn those she had lost. But the thought lingered, uncomfortably close — if I had been in her place, if I had watched helplessly as those under my command wasted away, month after month, drained by something I couldn’t prevent… would I have had any grief left in me? Or would it have been spent long before now, burned away by desperation and exhaustion?

More of the changelings who could still move were realizing it too. They nudged their fallen kin, called to them, whispered their names. Some cried out in quiet, wavering voices.

But there was no response.

My fingers curled tighter around Promise’s pommel. My mind was loud — so loud — but I couldn’t let myself fall into that place again. I forced my focus forward, pushed my breath out slow and steady, let my eye scan the chamber.

Then I saw it.

The youngling.

It was there, among the huddled bodies I had seen it with before, still nestled against the older drones. The same dull blue eyes. The same tiny, skeletal frame. The same silent gaze.

It was still breathing.

I moved without thinking, my boots scuffing against the floor. The changelings around me tensed, their eyes darting between me and Chrysalis. I ignored them. My focus was locked on the small figure before me.

I reached down, my silversheen fingers closing carefully around its frail body as I lifted it. It fit perfectly into the crook of my left arm, but it was light. It weighed almost nothing. A breath, a whisper. It settled against me in the same way Aldin once had, but wrong. Too light. Too cold.

But it was alive.

I’d seen it move before. A slow lift of its head when Luna and I first stepped into this very room. Just a few days ago. It had looked at me. It had moved.

It had to be alive.

I adjusted my grip, cradling the youngling closer. "Hey," I murmured, my voice low and coaxing. "Come on, little one. You're safe now. I promise."

No reaction.

Not a blink. Not a breath. Not a tremble.

Something cold and creeping, coiled in my gut.

“Sebastian.”

Luna’s voice broke the silence — soft, careful.

I turned, finding her watching me, her gaze moving between me and still figure in my arm.

She hesitated. Just for a heartbeat.

"Sebastian… it’s dead."

The words didn’t make sense. They didn’t fit.

"No," I said far too quickly. "No, I— I saw it move."

Luna’s ears flicked back as she took a slow step closer. "That was a week ago."

I looked down.

And the illusion shattered.

The unnatural stillness. The hollow, empty stare. The way its tiny body sagged against my arm, too light, too cold.

I hadn’t saved it.

I had only picked up what remained.

The chamber felt smaller, tighter. The sounds around me — soft murmurs, weak buzzing, the hum of the Synthetic Heart — blurred into a single, suffocating pressure against my skull.

I stared at the youngling, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat. It didn’t move. It would never move again.

My fingers twitched against its chitin. Cold. Too cold. How had I not noticed that?

Because I didn’t want to.

The realization struck me like a hammer to the ribs, knocking something loose in my chest. My pulse pounded behind my eye, my body felt too hot, then too cold, then nothing at all.

I had done everything I could, I knew that. I had built the Synthetic Heart, had worked until my hands ached and my mind blurred, had pushed through exhaustion, through every screaming instinct that told me I shouldn’t care.

And I was still too late.

My arms locked, holding the youngling closer, as if somehow that could change reality.

"Sebastian." Luna’s voice was steady, but I could hear the thread of worry in it. "You need to put it down."

I couldn't.

Not yet.

Luna stepped closer, her presence a steadying weight against the storm raging in my head. Her wing brushed against my shoulder, hesitant but firm all the same. "We should leave. You’ve done enough."

The words barely reached me, drowned beneath the weight of what surrounded me. Done enough? The youngling was dead. Hundreds lay lifeless in this room alone. Thousands more were scattered throughout the hive, their bodies silent, their futures forever erased. I had been so consumed with fixing what I could that I hadn't stopped to consider just how many had already been lost.

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. "I can still help."

Luna exhaled slowly. "You already have. The Synthetic Heart will keep the rest of them alive. There is nothing more you can do here."

I forced myself to look away from the youngling, scanning the chamber again.

The changelings that could move were still feeding, still weak, but stronger than before. They weren’t collapsing. They weren’t starving. The Synthetic Heart was working well.

But that didn’t make this any easier to accept.

Chrysalis had been silent this entire time. I turned to her, expecting some sneer, some sharp remark meant to kick me while I was down.

But she wasn’t looking at me.

She was looking at the youngling nestled in my arm.

For the first time, I saw something shift in her expression. It wasn’t anger, or malice, or amusement. It was something deeper, something that looked so foreign on her.

Regret.

Then, her eyes lifted to mine, sharp and unreadable once more. "There is nothing more to be done, Sebastian," she said, quiet but firm. "You have given us the Synthetic Heart. You have ensured that no more of my children will die from starvation."

She paused, glancing around the chamber, her gaze lingering on the bodies that would never rise again. "The rest…" she inhaled, slow and measured. "The rest is beyond us now."

I wanted to argue, to demand why she hadn’t done more — why she had let them wither away, starving until death took them. But the words caught in my throat because I already knew the answer.

She hadn’t had a choice.

Or, rather, she had done everything she could. Even going so far as to humble herself before the rulers at the summit, swallowing her pride to plead for aid that they never would have given even if they could.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my fingers to unclench, forcing my mind to accept what was in front of me.

I couldn’t change what had already happened. The past is set in stone.

Slowly, carefully, I lowered the youngling back to the ground. My hands lingered for a moment before I finally let go, stepping back. The chamber felt colder somehow without its little weight against me.

Luna was at my side in an instant, her presence solid, unwavering. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

I turned back to Chrysalis, her gaze met mine. There was no arrogance in her expression, no hidden sneer beneath her words. Only something raw, something unguarded. “You saved my children from death.”

A pause, her voice dipping lower, almost uncertain.

“Thank you.”

The words were so quiet, so unexpected, that I almost thought I had imagined them.

But no — Chrysalis had spoken them.

Luna stiffened beside me. Her eyes widened, shock easily visible in them before she schooled her expression back into neutrality.

Even Chrysalis herself looked as though she hadn’t expected to say it at all. Her ears flicked back, her wing twitching once before settling against her side.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving me to stare after her as she left the throne room to feed more of her children with the Synthetic Heart. I blinked, my mind trying to make sense of something that made no sense at all.

A choked sound drew my attention away from Chrysalis’s retreating form.

Thorax.

He was standing now, albeit unsteadily, his legs still trembling under his own weight. But his eyes — his eyes were alive once again, their dull haze gone, replaced with something fragile but very much real. He swayed slightly before catching himself, his gaze locking onto mine.

Then, before I could react, he stumbled forward and threw his hooves around me.

I stiffened.

His chitin was cool against my skin, his frame still too thin, too fragile. But he clung to me with a strength I hadn't expected, as if he was afraid that if he let go, I would vanish like smoke.

"Thank you." His voice was thick, shaking. "Sebastian, thank you. You saved them. You saved my family."

I felt my throat tighten.

I had arrived too late. The youngling had been proof of that. I had fooled myself into believing that completing the Synthetic Heart would somehow fix everything, that the heart would solve every problem. But half of the hive was already gone.

And yet…

Thorax was alive. The others who had survived — who were now feeding, slowly regaining their strength — they were alive because of what I had done. Because of what we had done.

I exhaled sharply, my left hand hesitantly coming up to press against Thorax’s back. He was shaking, whether from exhaustion or relief, I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both.

Luna shifted beside me, watching in silence. She wouldn’t rush me. She knew better than anyone what this moment meant.

I squeezed my eye shut for a moment to steady myself. Then, I exhaled slowly and stepped back.

Thorax let go, his ears flicking as he wiped at his face. He looked exhausted, but there was something lighter in his posture now. He was no longer weighed down by the crushing inevitability of starvation.

It still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

But it was something. Better than nothing.

Luna’s voice cut through the moment, low and firm. “Sebastian.”

I turned to her.

She was watching me with a knowing intensity, but there was no command in her tone — just understanding.

“We should go.”

My gut twisted. It felt wrong to leave, even knowing there was nothing more I could do. The Synthetic Heart was with Chrysalis. The changelings who remained would live. I had done everything I possibly could for them. The rest was up to them.

But the youngling...

Luna stepped closer, her wing brushing against my arm again, taking me out of the spiral before it could sink its hooks into me, anchoring me to the here and now. “Sebastian, we should head back.”

I swallowed hard then nodded.

Then, I gave one last look to Thorax, committing the sight of him standing, breathing, alive, to memory. I had managed to save my friend, at least I had managed to save him.

And with an incantation, and a squeeze of Luna’s hoof, I once again cast Greater Teleport.

The world shifted—

The hive was gone, and in its place was the familiar sight of our bedchambers.

The moment we arrived, the silence pressed down on me.

The air here was colder, softer, carrying the lingering scent of Luna — lavender and something soothing and rich, like the night itself. The fireplace was empty, save for the logs that sat in its andiron, awaiting to be lit should we so choose. But that would not be now. No, this was a time to let the cold seep into our room. The windows stretched high, revealing the endless sprawl of the night sky over Canterlot, but the stars felt distant, like a painted illusion.

I barely noticed any of it.

My limbs felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish, my body carrying an exhaustion that ran deeper than mere fatigue.

I shrugged off my clothes, not caring where they landed, my hands moving on instinct, barely guided by thought. The moment I was free of them, I sent the Wizard’s Arm to its storage in the Ethereal Plane as I moved toward the bed — stumbling, almost, as if the floor had shifted beneath me.

The mattress gave way under my weight as I collapsed onto it. The softness swallowed me whole, but it didn’t bring relief. I felt like I was sinking — no, unraveling.

A week ago, the youngling had been alive.

A week ago, who knows how many of the hive had been breathing, starving, but breathing.

Now—

The Synthetic Heart pulsed in my mind’s eye, that flickering green flame burning with the essence of a memory, a love I had poured into it, a love that would never be enough to bring any of them back from death’s embrace.

I squeezed my eye shut, my breath coming too fast, too shallow.

Movement.

Luna.

I felt the faint whisper of her magic, the familiar hum as she lowered the moon, letting the first traces of dawn creep over the horizon. Another whisper, softer, as she removed her regalia, setting each piece aside with a care I couldn’t bring myself to muster for my own discarded clothes.

Then, the mattress dipped beside me.

And a moment later, blessed warmth.

Luna curled against me, her wing draping over me, her foreleg slipping over my torso, pulling me close. Her presence was solid, real — an anchor in a storm I couldn’t see the end of.

Neither of us spoke.

She didn’t tell me it would be alright. She didn’t whisper empty reassurances. She simply held me, letting her warmth seep into the places where the cold had begun to take root.

Minutes passed. Or maybe an eternity. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

But eventually, her voice broke the quiet.

“Sebastian…”

There was something careful in her tone, something edged with thought.

I shifted, just enough to acknowledge her. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

“The memory inside the Synthetic Heart,” she murmured, her breath warm against my skin. “You never said what it was.”

I opened my eye.

The ceiling stretched above us, dark and endless, so unlike the dawn breaking beyond the curtain covered windows.

Ah, the memory.

The one I had chosen. The one I had let the Synthetic Heart copy, to fuel the changelings with something that wasn’t true love, but was close enough to keep them alive. Synthetic love for the Synthetic Heart.

My throat felt tight again.

I swallowed.

And then, in a voice that barely sounded like my own, I answered.

"The first time." I said, the words slipping past my lips before I could hesitate. My voice was hoarse, cracked at the edges, as if speaking it aloud solidified something I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Luna was quiet. Not the peaceful silence from before, but a stillness laced with thought.

Then, softly, “Our first kiss?”

I almost let her believe it.

It would’ve been easier.

But I had never been good at lying to her, she could see right through me.

“No,” I murmured, turning my head just enough to look at her. “Not our first kiss. The first time we had sex.”

The reaction was immediate. Her breath hitched — quiet, almost imperceptible, but I felt it where our bodies touched. She lifted her head, just enough to peer down at me, her ethereal mane shifting like the night sky itself.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t recoil. But the weight of her gaze was tangible.

I forced myself to keep speaking, because stopping now meant I’d never get the words out. “Specifically, the conversation we had after. That night… when I told you I had lied about wanting to be your apprentice to save my own skin. When you told me you knew right away.”

Understanding flickered in her eyes. “That night,” she echoed, and there was something in her tone — something deep, reflective.

I exhaled slowly. “I… I held on to that memory when I died… it was everything in that moment. It was all that I had left.”

Luna’s brows drew together, her lips parting slightly before she closed them again. She studied me, searching for something in my expression, something in the way I lay beneath her, barely held together.

I didn’t know what she found.

But whatever it was made her sigh, her wing tightening around me.

A moment passed before she spoke. “No one can see it?”

I shook my head, my throat thick. “No one. The Synthetic Heart only carries the emotion from the memory. No images, no words. Just… the love.”

In this moment the word felt foreign in my mouth. Love.

Love that wasn’t enough to save me from death.

Love that couldn’t bring back the youngling, or those that I was too late to save.

Love that had pulled those that survived back from starvation’s grasp.

The same love that had failed to save me had, instead, spared those responsible for my death all those months ago. The thought should have crushed me.

And yet, rather than despair, the ridiculousness of it all struck like a hammer.

A sound clawed its way from my throat — somewhere between a gasp and a broken exhale — before it twisted, reshaped itself, and spilled free.

Laughter.

It started small, barely more than an exhale.

Then it grew.

I tried to stop it. I really did.

But I couldn’t.

Laughter tore out of me, shaking my chest, my lungs, my ribs.

It wasn’t joyful.

It wasn’t pleasant.

It was raw, jagged, like something clawing its way free from the pit of my stomach, something twisted and hysterical and utterly uncontrollable.

Luna didn’t even try to stop me.

She just watched.

And when my laughter finally began to wane, when it left me breathless and aching, when the last echoes of it still clung to the air between us—

She smiled.

Not the careful, tempered smile of a ruler.

Not the smirk of a warrior who had found a weakness in their opponent’s defenses.

A true, quiet smile, equal parts warm and cool as the night she ruled.

“You have a wonderful laugh, my moonlight,” she murmured.

Then she kissed me.