As Stars Above, so Crystals Below: And the Depths that Hide Them.

She couldn’t remember when she first fell in love with the sea. It was more a feeling that she’d always loved it. That there wasn’t a time where that salty flowing expanse didn’t wholly capture her heart. Maybe it’d be easier to say why she loved the sea. From towering tsunamic giants to the peaceful lapping at the shore, the contrast of powerful majesty and enchanting calm stirred the emotion within her. The sea was everything. The entire compendium of the lived experience in a single vast body. And in life, nothing was guaranteed. Even this very moment was subject to radical, inexplicable change. A heart attack was ever only one less apple away. A torrential gale only one foul wind between easy sailing and a fight for your life. Or a secret fishing spot that was suddenly not so secret anymore. The sea was a force, a mistress of opportunity and chaos. There is no appeasing her, only preparing for her. Even then, she will take all that you readied for yourself as hers with no warning, no remorse. None can withstand the sea. All are made equal before her who seek to challenge her waves.

And so, it was to the sea she went when in greatest desperation, hoping beyond hope for a favor from an old friend. Nothing else could mend this vicious heartache, this deplorable soreness of soul. Maybe she could find the right tide to wash it away. On a night much like the one when she first saw the ocean as a filly, she tread again the sandy shore where her life’s course was forever altered. The stars twinkled gaily at her arrival. A cool breeze drifted in from the deep ocean, tousling her mane. She filled her lungs with that air, relishing it, letting it pass slowly, the saltiness of it dancing on her tongue. There were few other places of which she knew where nature dressed her fine world with such excellent calm, such marvelous beauty. Best of all, none else knew of its existence. A prime little paradise settled beyond the woods in a secluded corner of the vast shore encircled by towering pines. Where her heart longed to remain, but would never tarry for fear of spoiling it. During winters, it was unmatched: Soft snow drifts buried the shore from the trees to the waterline and no sound was heard save for the tide and winds. In summers, it teemed with quaint creatures, children of land and sea alike. Charmingly colored avians who sang sweetly, small scuttling crabs, bright floating butterflies, a fox here, an otter there, and rarely anything else larger or louder. There was a time when the dreadful squaws of a seagull had once threatened the shore’s tranquility. Since then, none had dared try. It was his promise that ensured that. It made her shudder, what happened, but no lingering sickness of regret plagued her.

It was toward the end of summer she’d come, the leaves touched with their first gradients, the air dipping into the beginning tinges of cold. Festival preparations would be in full swing all across Equestria. Everyone would be celebrating Princess Luna assuming the Winter crown at the arrival of the equinox. She imagined it, all the excitement, the inexhaustible joy rivalling Hearth’s Warming, and burned with irascible jealousy that she could not be at even the smallest one. But soon she would have all she needed. These awful emotions would not harass her poor heart for much longer. It took only a moment to find the old log which had always marked her favorite spot. Sun-bleached by years unshielded from the sun, its whitened bark reflected the moonlight brilliantly, calling her to lay her burdens in the sand among its few branches. She scanned the area as she walked toward it, looking for someone or something that may have been bold enough to ruin the sanctity of her haven. There were no intruders, as every time before, but still she felt compelled to check. With an ignition of her horn, she levitated her saddlebags off her back onto the beach. Then laying herself among the branches, she removed a strange treasure from one of her bags: a copper compass in which bobbed slightly a malachite needle. Its points were marked in strange runes instead of the typical cardinal directions. Held in her magic, she examined it closely, turning the trinket in all manner of ways until she had satisfied herself the needle refused to alter its heading. She took hold of some stray driftwood, drawing a scaled-up likeness of the compass – this one’s points ending in a different set of runes - in the sand before setting down the true one in the middle of it. Her work was meticulous, a practiced action born of years of study and experience that, had some knowledgeable pony been there to appraise it, would have marked her worthy of an Archmagus.

It was time to see him again. A moment she took to meditate, steadying her breaths, weaving a concentrated peace over her mind. Then, her lips parted and she sang in melancholy tune the familiar incantation,

“Cor meum ab Cupidine confoditur.

Aurum micantem dedignor omne.

Nihil me consolari potest,

nisi iocosa nauta audax.”

Her eyes remained closed, allowing no distractions while the magic stirred within her, focused through her horn and into the compass, which glowed brightly in response. Starlight opened her eyes and standing watched as the treasure crackled with magical energy. Here comes my favorite part, she thought excitedly. The crackling steadied into a musical hum, then slowly crescendoed as the magic poured from the compass into the sand-drawing. The hum grew into a harmonious chorus of deep resonance and with each new note struck, the malachite needle ticked to a compass point, shooting a beam between compass and sand rune. The beams cast themselves beyond the borders of Starlight’s drawing, travelling far out of view with each illuminated set. Tick after tick, the needle tread the steps of its magical world, until finally it’s revolution was complete. The compass rose, beset with rhythmic vibrations. The needle snapped free, pointing rigidly to the sky. Both compass and needle spun. Lightning bolts arced all around the copper way-finder, increasing in number, striking out at each point, then all coalesced their charge into a chosen beam, igniting it in an exquisite blue fire far across the sea to the distant horizon. And then, where Starlight could see farthest, the flame exploded into a pillar high into the sky, then another pillar, and another all the way down the line in blazing succession until it consumed the malachite needle and copper compass, but she did not fear the fire. She only felt its warmth, pleasant and comforting.

Towering above her, the pillars descended, story by story down to the water. Each collapsed on itself into nothing, save for the one on the compass. A soft, shapeless glow took its place, and Starlight felt such longing in her heart as she hadn’t in some time. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she lunged to embrace the light just as it took form. A foreleg birthed from the light wrapped around her neck and a gilded chuckle graced her ears.

“I’ve missed you too, Starlight.”

Light, cold and low met her eyes. Some of the rays refracted through the barrier in strangely hued rainbows. For a moment, her world was a blurry painting of various pinks and a piercing fluorescent. She blinked the sleep away and all was normal once again. As normal it could be, she thought. There was no one here save herself since Twilight left with the nurse. What kept her company now was that unpleasant hospital silence and apparently a newly admitted patient right across from her who remained sleeping. It wasn’t someone she recognized. Their cutiemark was hidden by their dinner suit, but the broad shoulders and bulky haunches indicative of a working stallion were not so. They could be a retired soldier. The scar that cut his nostril suggested it. Highly decorated and here as a guest of someone else. Or they made their way into politics after an illustrious career. Maybe he was one of the labor guild heads. The physique would match: blacksmith, farmer, woodspony, or what-have-you. Something else about him though drew her scrutinizing eye: a bandage. Around his neck. Blood seeping through. Now soaking the bandage entirely.

“Oh no…” she said aloud, then cried, “Help! Someone! Nurse! NURSE! DOCTOR! HELP, PLEASE! AAH, TWILIGHT! HEEEELP!” No one came. Starlight watched horrified when the stallion started twitching. Then grunting, struggling to stand. Then retching as his back arched in response to a violently contracting diaphragm. Everything came forcefully tumbling out. It was the same nightmare in the restroom all over again. This time the Fates would grant her the privilege of seeing it all in full view, from the first gruesome moment to the last. “Hells, Starlight you idiot. You can do something too,” she said to herself. But instead of the usual tingle of magic, a raging headache split her skull. She let out an agonized cry as blurry visions of those jade lights flashed before her eyes, stirring her stomach, weaking her legs. Between the pain and sickness she watched and listened to the stallion aggressively expunging everything, just like that poor mare. It all brought her to her knees, her diaphragm echoing the same actions of her hospital mate. “Oh Celestia, not again. Please…” Twilight’s face took its place amongst the screaming images.

There was nothing critical in it this time. Only a warm, loving smile. So strangely motherly, similar in how she looked at Spike. That look spurred in her a newfound will, and with it she resisted the urge to give up her ghost. None of these terrible ailments would cripple her. She knew there was far too much to fight for. Something far more worthy than the negative emotional feedback loop that so desperately struggled to drag her into Tartarus. “No… more. I- I’m done… failing.” Swallowing back her pain, she won against the gravity of her own guilt and rose to face the demon before her. Even though the headache lingered, the visions now vanished. And so did the dying stallion.

“Starlight!”

Her ears perked up at the sound of her name. The hospital was the same as it was before, nobody else across from her, except for the nurse and Twilight who’d finally returned. It was the alicorn’s voice that she’d heard.

“Twilight,” her own voice came shakily, yet clear, “Was I…?”

Concern deeply creasing her face, Twilight affirmed her fears, “I’m not sure, but I think so. It was so strange. When I found you doing that earlier, you were sitting on your haunches looking straight ahead, mouth wide open and pupils extremely dilated. Like an overdose without the lethal symptoms. This time, we found you standing rigid. Stiff as a statue, and you were mouthing something. It was nearly inaudible, but Nurse Genesi and I agree it was something like ‘No more’ and ‘I’m done.’ But that wasn’t the weirdest part.

Oh no, worried Starlight.

“Your sclera…”

Starlight groaned inwardly. She’d read enough horror novels where authors used the whites of someone’s eyes turning color as a story hook. It was almost comedic how it was now a reality for her.

“…was like a moonless night. And your eyes…”

Two tropes with one stone, but it wasn’t funny anymore.

“…were glowing. Very green. Very bright. Neither of us could look in them for long without a trance-like wooziness coming over us.”

Always some new horror, Starlight thought. “How long were you trying to snap me out of it?”

“Not too long after we came back,” responded Nurse Genesi. “Like Princess Twilight said, we lost ourselves for a moment when we saw your eyes, but she quickly got a hold of herself and started banging on the barrier and calling out to you.”

“It was about the fifth or sixth time I shouted that you came too.” She paused, looking down, seemingly dumbfounded. Rarely did she ever deal with a problem so incomprehensible. Her eyes rose to find Starlight staring unblinkingly at the unoccupied space across from her. “What is it?” she asked, a fearful curiosity painting her tone.

“Twilight…,” she searched for a way to begin, “I saw a stallion there. He looked like one of the party guests. He vanished when the hallucination stopped.”

Twilights pupils flared, gaze fixing on that empty spot on the floor. “Describe him!” Her words were flooded with urgency.

“Uh, earth pony. Strong build. Soldier or laborer. Possibly one of the guild heads. I couldn’t see his cutie mark, but he did have a scar through his left nostr – AUGH!” The headache returned with fury, her mind rejecting the memory like some foreign pathogen.

“Starlight!” But her friend would have to wait a moment more for aid, so she begged her, “Starlight, what else did you see. You need to tell me.”

“Uhhnn, Twilight, I’m trying. Please, this is really killing me!”

“Just a little more info, Starlight. Just a little.”

She could manage that. “He – oh, sweet Celestia – he was infected. Ugh, he was turning.”

That was all she could do. It was all Twilight needed. “Nurse, when does Doctor Orion get here?”

Starlight suddenly recovered. “Orion? You said Orion, right?”

“Ah, no.” Nurse Genesi replied confusedly, “she said Doctor Aran. He’ll be here shortly, Princess.”

“Oh,” and Starlight failed to keep her disappointment from dripping into her sigh.

Twilight wondered what she could mean. Starlight hadn’t been too open about her past save for a few times. It was probably best not to pry. Maybe some reassurance would do her good. “Starlight-” she began, but something interrupted her. “-your neck!”

Terror gripped the poor unicorn. “What! What is it?!”

With impeccable timing, Doctor Aran appeared, fully haz-suited and immediately spotting what shook Twilight. "Oh no. Princess Twilight, if you please, I need to get in there now.”

“Of course,” Twilight replied softly, a faint crack in her voice. Opening the barrier enough for him to enter, she turned back toward the empty spot, unable to meet Starlight’s eyes.

“Miss Glimmer, if you would turn your head away for a moment. I need to remove your bandage,” came the monotone voice of the doctor.

She did as asked without word, too scared to speak.

“This may sting.” And sting it did, a dozen mad wasps attacking her wound. The big girl in her took the reigns and rode the pain with grunts here and there while the doctor worked as quickly as he could. He muttered when finished, “There’s already scarring… mostly healed. No puss. No blood.” Then to where all could hear, “Miss Glimmer, the news I have isn’t good. But…”

“Yes?” came the simultaneous reply from Starlight, Twilight and the nurse.

“But,” Doctor Aran continued, “…it won’t make sense unless you allow to me explain properly.” He was met with three-voiced groan. “Hmph. This infection is unusual. Unnatural. Wrong, if you will. In the past four hours, I’ve seen ponies keel over, freeze stiff, essentially melt apart, and explode before my eyes. Devasting. The stuff of nightmares.”

“Doctor,” came Nurse Genisi.

“Yes, I’m getting there. Anywho, it is a horrifying senseless thing in comparison to all other known diseases. We know the results of infection, we know you don’t want it touching you, but what happens in the beginning, what terminates a pony in the end, what sends them into a frenzy… and now this! A new symptom entirely. Nurse Genesi, would you cast a mirror for me?”

“Yes, Doctor.” Her horn ignited. Twin sparkling mirrors in green aura manifested, positioned to reflect Starlight’s neck back to her. Starlight stood silent. Mouth shut tightly. Wide-eyed. Doctor Aran resumed his explanation,

“These spinal veins,” he pointed with his hoof, tracing their path from the infection point, “appear to be engorged with a fluid similar to what has erupted from other infected individuals. This, however, is different. More vibrant. Pulsing with life. Not dead, if you will. If we follow this one up the back of your skull,” he gently pulled her mane out of the way, “this vein connects to the base of your horn. Have you tried to use any magic since you came into contact with a feeler?”

All she could give was a feeble “yes.”

“Hmmm….” He let go of her mane. “Well, Miss Glimmer, I must inform you that you must not use any more magic. Indefintely.”

“Why?!” sounded a three-fold shock.

“Because, if I were to guess correctly, your magic acts a catalyst for the infection. Every time you try to use it, it feeds off your cardiac leylines.”

“Doc… I only tried once.”

“And that was more than enough, I’m afraid.” A man of detached professionalism.

I guess he can’t help it, thought Starlight. There was only one question to ask now. The doctor intuited well enough what everyone hoped wasn’t true.

“Miss Glimmer…” he took an excruciating moment to gather his thoughts. “Your infection has indeed progressed, but in a way not yet seen. Nor has it done to you what it has to the others. Hmmm…” He put a hoof to his chin, mumbling pensively. “I can’t clear you. It’s far too risky and the variables too unknown. But I think that as long as you refrain from using magic and we watch you 24/7, there is a chance that whatever is happening to you may help us find a cure.”

That was his final word. He looked fairly pleased with his diagnosis. Hopeful, even. Dismay crept across the faces of the two friends. Indefinite prison for one, indefinite loss for another. Nurse Genesi only nodded in agreement. She could see the sense in Doctor Aran’s words. It was the best lead they had since all hell broke loose. To lose that would be potentially devastating. Few risks could be taken when they still knew so little.

“Doctor Aran,” Twilight spoke through a simmering anger. “Is there a possibility she could be released at all? Say under the care of a trusted party?”

“I presume you mean yourself, Princess. I’m afraid not. Not at this time, at least. We can’t lose the first real lead we have. We must attack this before it gets any worse.”

A scream came from somewhere else in the tent, followed by more and someone shouting, “DOCTOR ARAN! WHERE’S DOCTOR ARAN?!”

The stuff of nightmares. Endless nightmares.

“Hells! Princess, would you mind letting me out? Thank you. Damn it, where is that pony. I’m over here! OVER HERE!”

One of the guardsponies came charging in, jittery, frightened out of his wits. “Doctor Aran! We’ve had a breach. I don’t know how, but a patient got out as soon as they started turning. The staff and other guards are doing what they can, but it’s not working. We have three casualties already. We need the fla-“ His tongue caught mid-sentence as his eyes grew wide.

“What, sir!? What in Celestia’s name do we-… Oh, Hells.” It was too late. Doctor Aran hadn’t noticed the tear in the guardspony’s haz-suit, where an uninvited hitchhiker had been busily digging into his flesh. “30 seconds. Princess, take Starlight and Genesi. Find the source of the infection. Save us all.” Those were the last words of Doctor Aran Isles as he reared round to buck the doomed stallion. It would be of little use. Twilight dropped the barrier and the three mares went racing toward the exit, spreading word of the breach as they went. They could only hope the staff would react quickly. Behind them came a haunted chorus of gurgling roars growing steadily louder. The way out came into view. Twilight called ahead to the guards:

“We’re evacuating! Don’t quarantine this tent until everyone’s out!” The mares jumped through in succession. Twilight about-faced to look for other evacuees, but to her horror she watched as the guard unicorn sealed the entrance shut.

“NO! STOP!” She lit her horn in a fearful fire, hoping to break the seal herself.

“Hold on there, Princess,” came the voice of the podium stallion. “That’s, uh, that’s a cardian lock. I wouldn’t go breaking it if I, uh, were you.”

Twilight was stunned. Such serious measures taken at the peril of everyone inside and the unicorn who’d trapped them in there.

“Why?!” she interrogated the stallion, her horn still burning fiercely.

“Aha, well, orders are, uh, orders. And you, uh, you can’t be too careful, you know.” He replied cowering slightly behind his beloved perch. The Princess debated within herself: Should she risk murder or a mass breach? She didn’t know. And for all the magic within her, she felt utterly powerless. Stricken with indecision, she sat square on her haunches and wept, watching through the opaque golden seal ponies who for a moment had hope now being hopelessly massacred. Starlight sat beside her, as unable as she, helpless to keep death unfolding in true brutality. Nurse Genesi had no stomach for it having wandered off to fetch a few of the fire teams. She understood what that guardspony had tried to say perfectly. The operation must change. There was only one cure for this now. The pair of friends sat for some time, silently wondering how things could have gone so terribly wrong.

“Twilight.”

“Yes?”

“What are we going to do?”

She had been working through the answer to that question since this started. “I… Hells, Starlight, I don’t know. AUGH, I DON’T KNOW!” In her frustration, she let loose a bolt straight into the ceiling, blasting the crystal clear away, letting the winter cold slip into the hall.

All looked up at the new skylight, but the haz-suited creatures soon returned their eyes to their watch. Starlight’s glimmered in the twinkling of the stars in the exposed night sky. “It’d be a beautiful night if it weren’t for everything else.”

“Yes… it would be.” Snowflakes crept slowly down toward them until one rested on the nose of the unicorn.

A feeling came over her, irrationally hopeful, but she clung to the newborn feeling like a foal all her own. “Twilight, we can fix this. Find a cure. And nights like these will be beautiful again.”

Twilight, sniffling, said, “You think so?”

“I do. Come on, we need to grab Genesi.”

The princess let her friend lead her away from the tent. Neither could stand to be around it any longer. They ran into the nurse not long after at the head of many suited creatures.

“Nurse Genesi!” called Starlight. “Twilight and I were about to-,” but the nurse held up a hoof to interrupt her. “Princess, Miss Glimmer. I regret to say that neither of you will be doing anything until I say so. Fire teams, you have your orders,” and she waved them on. About six squads of creatures marched toward the tent. One squad lead passed words with the podium stallion, who nodded to the guard dragon, while the guard unicorn started screaming obscenities, clearly distressed. They did catch one thing from him when he tried calming the unicorn down, “I’m sorry, Mr. Latchkey. Can’t be too careful, you know?” The unicorn lunged at the podium stallion, but before he could do anything, someone shouted “FIRE” and a blaze of extraordinary magnitude consumed the medical tent in seconds. The wails of the roasting unicorn were drowned out in the ensuing roar. Starlight swore in midst of it all, she heard hundreds of voices, crying out in agony, but one by one they trailed off, consumed by the raging flames.

“Starlight…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re crying…”

“Huh?” She hadn’t noticed the salty drops trailing down her face. “Oh, I suppose I am.” She wiped them away with her hoof.

“We’re not going to have anyone left to save by the end of this,” Twilight lamented.

Starlight ruminated on her words, and prayed they weren’t true. Then, addressing the medical mare said, “Nurse Genesi, what in the Hells are you doing?”

The nurse had been observing the flames with cold stoicism, no emotions molding a mite of her visage. She saw no need to answer immediately. It would change nothing. Before Starlight could interrogate her further, she answered with a question, “Do you know what a backfire is, Miss Glimmer?”

Silence was her answer. “Then I assume you understand.”
Starlight was unsure of what to say, but knew above all else it was time for them to go. “Twilight and I are leaving,” she spat through gritted teeth.

With an eerie evenness, she replied, “No, you are not. Guards!” A pair of crystal ponies, a pegasus and unicorn in dark jumpsuits materialized from thin air, each with thaumic repression cuffs.

“Twilight!”

“On it!” A pink flash briefly blinded guards and nurse alike, leaving a sizzling spot on the floor, but nothing else. Genesi regarded it with an icy stare, and nothing else. “Gather the rest of your team. Capture the Princess and Miss Glimmer. Bring them to the palace when you do. Dismissed.” Orders received, they gave an “aye” and left the same way they appeared. Now alone, she returned her eyes to the inferno. Muttering to herself, saying, “There is no end to these nightmares. Not for me.”

*POOF* “Haha! Finally, I did it! I teleported myself a whole ten paces! Isn’t that just grand, Opal?”

Surely, there was excitement somewhere in the middle of all that feline apathy. “Oh, Opal darling, can’t you be excited for Mommy just a little? I’ve been working so hard on this spell. It hasn’t been easy while simultaneously making all those gowns for the Commemoration Ball. Goodness gracious, can you imagine the stress I’ve been under to design an appropriate dress for not one but four princesses and their attachés? It’s been absolutely exhausting.” She gave a dramatic flourish of her hoof before bringing it to rest on her forehead. “I just can’t believe I didn’t even have time to attend it. Part of me wishes I hadn’t promised Sweetie Belle I’d take her to the Crusader’s annual meeting in Manehattan.” A sudden wind struck her from the side. Wrapping her coat tighter, she exclaimed, shivering, “Brrrrrr! It certainly is rather chilly up on this platform. Would it have killed them to install a windbreaker or two?” There were none to hear her gripe. She was a lone pony out here, save for the station manager holed up in his office. Peering down the line, she tried in vain to catch sight of the train. “Goodness, it’s far too dark to see anything out there. The papers did say a storm would be blowing in tonight. Fates willing, the train will arrive soon. It’s nearly fifteen minutes late!” Down by her hooves came a “mrow” from her beloved cat, now huddling close to keep warm. “Opal, you must be freezing! Come here.” She caught the shaking thing in her magic and stuffed her gently into her hood. “There, get all snuggly wuggly, baby Opal. Mommy’ll keep you warm.”

It dawned on her that her doting might have seemed rather silly to another pony, but then again there were none here to hear, save for the station manager… holed up in his office. A true gentlestallion would have invited me inside instead of leaving me to freeze to death with my cat out here, she complained silently. “Argh, how much longer is this train going to take!” she growled. The platform clock ticked on, reading 1817, undisturbed by her winging. “Blast it, I’m going to figure what’s going on.” Baggage in tow, she made for the office door. With a less than courteous knock, she cried “Excuse me! Mister Station Manager? The train is quite late and I’ve been out here for much longer than a lady would like to be. Would you mind letting me in so you’re not responsible for two innocent creatures dying of exposure?” A moment passed with no response. “Ignore me, will you?! I think not!” She fervently whacked the door with her hoof, hoping to waken or annoy the stallion until he relented. Still, after much banging, there was no answer. Now Rarity was somewhat unsure of how to proceed. Surely, he must be in there. Was he that sound of a sleeper? At this point, it didn’t matter. The train hadn’t yet come, it was dark out and a storm was coming. Any carriages that could have taken her back to the city had already gone and all other shelters she might make use of were filthy, abandoned residences. Desperate as she was, she wasn’t that desperate. That settled it.

She spun the door handle, which gave with a click. Strange, other stations leave the door locked, she thought. No one to refuse her, she hauled herself, her bags, and her cat into the station, shutting the cold out behind her. “Thank goodness, it’s so much warmer in here. My, isn’t that better, Opal?” Her feline friend gracefully bounded out of her hood and onto a chair by the fireplace where she curled up to sleep. Rarity smiled. “Hmm, sometimes you’re just so adorable.” It really was quite strange how no one was in here. No one in the ticket booth, no one at the table, no one by the storage shelves. Maybe he’s in his bunk room. But, when she opened the door, she found no one in there either. She made to close it when a dripping noise she hadn’t heard before reached her ears, now twitching to find the source. The bathroom! Of course. Poor fellow may have been caught up in some bad bodily business. How rude of her to intrude. She’d wait for him until he was done, but she didn’t have to wait long. The bathroom door creaked open, releasing a noxious fume that nearly made her retch. “Oh,” she said when the door had swung wide. “There you are.”