Unquenchable Fire

Manusar

I lean back in my seat, already overwhelmed by what I’ve read. There is much I still cannot comprehend, and perhaps never will. Twilight Sparkle sits across from me, having just finished telling me all she could of the daring actions of Corporal Mecha. It’s shaken her too, I can tell, and while I want to know more, I can see that these memories are hurting her.

“Perhaps we can return here tomorrow?” I ask, setting down Twilight’s copy of Corporal Mecha’s orders. “I think both of us need a rest before we can continue.”

Twilight nods solemnly, staring off into space. “Forgive me for seeming so distant,” she finally whispers, “it’s just that this is a lot to relive. I’d be happy to meet you here tomorrow.”

Using her magic, she begins sorting her papers, carefully placing them back in her saddlebag. She is about to close the bag when she pauses, and pulls out two items: a government document, most likely a report, and a small scrap of what appears to be a flag- the Equestrian flag.

“Before you retire for the night,” she says, placing the scrap and the report in front of me, “I’d ask you to consider reading these. First the scrap, then the report. It’s not related to the general war effort, but there’s a story behind that scrap of our flag that needs to be told.”

I turn the scrap over and immediately recoil. There is a word written on the scrap in what can only be dried blood. I almost drop the scrap in surprise, but I stop myself, focusing on the word scrawled there.

Manusar

“I’m unfamiliar with this language,” I say, “where did this come from?”

Twilight smiles. “I wouldn’t expect you to be familiar with the language. It’s written in Alicorn, an old and largely forgotten tongue. A ‘dead language,’ as many have been fond of saying. Its meaning is simple- roughly translated, it means ‘dawn.’ It’s hard to understand now, but when you read the report, I think things will clear up somewhat.”

I nod. “Thank you. Tomorrow morning, then? The same booth?”

“Yes,” Twilight agrees, “I look forward to seeing you then.”

I pay for the dinner and escort Twilight out. In the street, we bid each other a good night, and go our separate ways. I return to my rented room, sloshing through the soggy streets. When I finally close my door to the outside world, I’m tired, muddy, and cold. I grab my saddlebag and sit down at my small desk, flipping the switch to turn on my lamp. Nothing happens. The power is still out. Sighing, I light a few small candles and bend over the report, squinting in the dim light at the small print. I must know the story behind “Manusar.”

I must.

…

It was just past two in the afternoon when the first of them arrived over the hills of Phillydelphia’s fertile farmland. There were only a few at first- dark specks in the distance like ants on an anthill. Then more came. Soon the hills were swarming with droves of them. Refugees. Every last one. From her bakery near the main road into Phillydelphia, an Earth Pony named Cinnamon Twist watched with concern. There were so many… Last night she’d dreamed of the very sight before her, and her dream had quickly turned into a nightmare as faceless shadows pursued her while her city burned. She was not ignorant. Like most of her friends, Cinnamon Twist was well aware of what had happened to Manehatten. She turned to her husband, Baker’s Dozen. The Earth Pony was busy laying out loaves of bread for display.

“So this is it. It’s really begun.”

Dozen poked his head up from behind the display counter. “Sorry dear, what was that?”

Cinnamon Twist shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I was just saying that this war- it’s finally knocking on our doorstep.”

Baker’s Dozen noticed his wife glancing intently out the door and decided to investigate. Peering outside at the stream of exhausted ponies walking towards them, he whistled.

“By Celestia, that is quite a sight,” he said, not sounding overly worried. His wife turned to him.

“You don’t sound upset about this in any way,” she said, “I wish I could share your optimism.”

“Oh come on,” Dozen said, smiling as he returned to his work, “it’s not like they’re scum or anything. They just need a place to live for a while.” Lowering his voice, he added “and besides, those ponies out there have been through hell and back. We should consider ourselves lucky we aren’t among them right now.”

Baker’s Dozen wasn’t far from the truth, Twist realized. She remembered when she'd met him in Phillydelphia six years ago as if it had been yesterday. He’d been preparing to leave for Manehatten to continue his studies in archaeology and ancient languages when they’d first begun to date. It wasn’t long before Baker’s Dozen proposed, and Cinnamon Twist gladly accepted. They’d been preparing to start anew in Manehatten when life, as it often does, threw a wrench in the works. Cinnamon Twist’s father, who owned a bakery in town, had fallen ill, and was not expected to recover. Death came for him shortly thereafter. As next of kin, it was Twist’s responsibility to keep the business alive, which would require that she stay in Phillydelphia. Suddenly a dreadful choice was thrust upon Dozen: he could continue to pursue his career or give it up to stay with his beloved. Cinnamon Twist had told him again and again that she would understand whatever his choice might be, and despite what she’d predicted, Dozen stayed, helping her to run her shop. Both of them had never regretted their decision, but now, seeing the refugees pouring in, Cinnamon Twist couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if things had turned out differently, and they’d both moved on to Manehatten.

Cinnamon Twist finally closed the front door and turned the store sign from “closed” to “open.” She then returned to her husband’s side, ready to greet the day’s incoming customers.

“You know,” she whispered to Dozen, “there are other things to consider here. Manehatten was a hub for violent crime. You can’t believe that all of these refugees are just going to stay and leave us be.”

Baker’s Dozen turned to his wife. “I know, but it’s a risk we have to take. Besides, we’re adaptable. You know that more than most.”

Twist smiled and kissed her husband on the cheek. “I know. I guess it’s just the stress talking.” She pulled a small bottle of wine out from under the cash register and uncorked it, filling two small glasses. “Here’s to a prosperous day,” she said, and the couple toasted each other, downing their drinks as the first customer opened the door.

…

EM Form A-25 After-Action Report

Reporting Officer: Capt. Snow Breeze, Equestrian Army, 35th Platoon.

Subject: Phillydelphia.

Report: At approximately 1443 hours, the first refugees from Manehatten entered the city of Phillydelphia, accompanied by a small Army detachment. Overwatch for the journey was provided by the Equestrian Air Force and select Army Scouts. No enemy action was witnessed en route. In compliance with the Mayor’s emergency policy, families from Manehatten were either sent to unfilled lodging or assigned “sponsor families” to live with until they could be relocated…

…

“Time to close up,” Baker’s Dozen called out, emerging from the storage room and tossing the door keys to Cinnamon Twist, “would you like to have the honor?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Twist replied, catching the keys and trotting to the front door. Sales had been good today, and she had to admit guiltily that war, as the saying went, was good for business. She stuck the key in the lock and was about to turn it when a stallion in an Army uniform trotted up to the front door. Behind him were two Earth ponies- a husband and wife, by the looks of it. Cinnamon Twist opened the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked the Army pony. In reply, he nodded.

“Phillydelphia’s Mayor has enacted a new refugee sponsor program to provide shelter to families who are unable to find room in the city’s lodging areas. With your consent, we wish to assign these kind folks to you for a few days.”

Twist opened her mouth to speak. “Well, I-“

“Of course,” Baker’s Dozen finished for her, coming to the door, “we’d be happy to sponsor them.” He turned to the family. “May I ask your names?”

The mare spoke first. “I’m Crystal Shine and this is my husband, Fair Trade.” Her voice was soft but unwavering, as if she’d been touched by tragedy but refused to give in. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“Please,” Cinnamon Twist said, sounding somewhat defeated now, “come in and make yourselves comfortable.” The two strangers looked at each other in relief as Baker’s Dozen ushered them inside. Cinnamon Twist, meanwhile, was handed a clipboard by the Army stallion.

“I just need a signature,” he said, offering her a pen. Cinnamon Twist signed the form. Then, hoping a gesture of goodwill might set her back on course, rushed inside and offered a loaf of freshly-baked rye to the soldier.

“For me, ma’am?” the soldier said, confused.

“Yes,” Cinnamon replied, “for all you’ve done today. It was nice meeting you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, ma’am,” the soldier said, then paused before turning away. “I can see you’re a bit hesitant about this. It won’t be for long, you have my word. The refugees will be moved farther inland.”

“Inland?”

The soldier nodded. “That’s right. The farther away from the enemy they are, the better. You might want to start thinking about packing up yourself. War might come this way.”

“Thank you,” Cinnamon Twist said as a chill ran down her spine, “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight.”

She heard the soldier’s “goodnight” as she closed the door. Once inside, Cinnamon sank to the ground in shock. First, two complete strangers had just invaded her house, and now she was told that the war was heading this way. It wasn’t fair at all. She rubbed her eyes and stood as Baker’s Dozen trotted down into the shop from the upstairs bedroom loft.

“Those folks were pretty tired, so I set them up in our bed,” he explained.

“You did what?!” Cinnamon hissed. Baker’s Dozen was completely taken aback by the severity of his wife’s response.

“Honey?” he stammered. “What’s wrong? I- I didn’t think-“

“That’s right, you didn’t think!” Cinnamon Twist sputtered with rage, advancing on her husband, “You didn’t think at all! You let two complete strangers into our house without my consent, and now they’re sharing our damn bedroom! So you’re right! You didn’t think!”

“Twist, what’s the matter?” Dozen said, standing his ground, “we’re supposed to help these ponies, not keep them out on the streets! You’ve always been generous before. What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me? They’re from Manehatten! Nothing good comes out of there! They could be thieves, or murderers, or-“

“Or ordinary citizens like us,” Dozen said, cutting her off. “Just scared, ordinary citizens trying to make sense of this whole mess. I refuse to believe that’s all that’s troubling you. Just speak your mind and-“ Baker’s Dozen was interrupted by hoofsteps on the loft stairs. He looked back just in time to see Crystal Shine and Fair Trade paused on the steps, frozen.

“I’m sorry,” Crystal Shine said, “we didn’t mean to intrude.”

“We heard yelling,” Fair Trade explained, “and we just- we just wanted to know if everything’s alright.”

“It’s fine,” Cinnamon Twist said, waving them off, “just fine. You can go back to bed.”

“Please, Mrs. Cinnamon Twist,” Fair Trade persisted, “we don’t want to be any trouble. If our presence here disturbs you, we can leave. We can find another home.”

Cinnamon Twist said nothing, just stared at the ponies on the staircase. They looked tired and sad, and they most certainly did not look like scum. She realized the gravity of what she’d said to Baker’s Dozen and how rash her actions had been. She took one look at her husband and broke down, sobbing into his neck.

“I’m sorry about this,” Baker’s Dozen said, running a hoof down his wife’s mane in a comforting gesture and speaking simultaneously to the new guests, “we’re just a little stressed. Please, come down and join us. I’ll draw up some chairs and a table and get some coffee going. I believe there is much we need to discuss.”

“I’ll get the coffee,” Cinnamon Twist said, lifting her head back up and sniffing. She dried her eyes and said with a smile, “you and I both know you never get it quite right.”

Baker’s Dozen smiled. “Now that’s more like the Cinnamon Twist I know.”

…

After a few minutes, the four ponies were seated around a small table, with fresh, hot coffee for all. Fair Trade grabbed his mug and had a quick sip.

“I believe introductions are in order,” he said quietly. “I’m Fair Trade. I worked as a sales representative in Manehatten.”

“And as you already know, I’m Crystal Shine,” his wife added, “I work jewelry.”

“I’m Baker’s Dozen,” Dozen said, waiting for his wife to introduce herself. When she didn’t, he spoke for her. “This is my wife, Cinnamon Twist. We own this bakery.”

“I see,” Crystal Shine said, “does this bakery run in the family?”

“It does,” Cinnamon Twist said, speaking for the first time. “My father passed it down to me, and now it’s co-owned by my husband.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Baker’s Dozen said hesitantly, “how did you come to escape from Manehatten? I’ll understand if it’s too early for you to speak about it.”

Fair Trade glanced at his wife anxiously. She nodded and he took a swig of coffee before speaking. “We evacuated our apartment as soon as the attacks started,” he explained. “We pushed our way through the crowds and fled to safety. That was about it.”

He glanced to the side nervously, and Baker’s Dozen could tell that there was more to the story. Still, he didn’t bother pressing the issue.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “it must be hard to think about your time in that city.” He glanced over at his wife. She was clutching her coffee mug with a death grip and was paling. “Cinnamon Twist?” he said, “are you alright?”

Twist looked down at her hooves and released the mug, almost recoiling. Baker’s Dozen persisted. “Twist, it’ll do you good to say what’s on your mind.”

“You’re among friends here,” Fair Trade added, trying to be helpful.

Cinnamon Twist picked up her coffee mug with a shaking hoof and downed the rest of the warm beverage. “It’s this war,” she said finally. “If it moves here, I just don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“That’s what was bothering you?” Baker’s Dozen asked with concern. “Oh Twist, if you’d just told me… Listen, remember what I said earlier? We’re adaptable. We can survive if we have to leave. We’ll-“

“It’s not about us!” Twist sniffed, blinking back tears and trying to hide the turmoil she felt, “it’s everything. We’d lose the shop! We’d lose our old lives! I couldn’t face it!”

“We’d still have us,” Dozen said, running his hoof down her mane. Across the table, he saw the family from Manehatten shift uncomfortably.

“It’s not important,” Cinnamon Twist said, wiping her eyes. “Let me- let me grab something sweet for us.” She glanced up at Fair Trade and Crystal Shine. “You two must be hungry.”

As his wife exited the table, Baker’s Dozen turned his attention back to the two ponies opposite. Both appeared to be fighting back emotion. Finally Crystal Shine spoke up.

“There’s something else you should know. It doesn’t feel right keeping secrets from you… Maybe now’s not the best time, though. I don’t know.”

“Don’t feel forced to say anything,” Baker’s Dozen said. “Especially not something you don’t want to.”

Cinnamon Twist returned with a plate of warm cinnamon crumb cakes. Perhaps it was the smell, perhaps it was the sight. Whatever the case, when Cinnamon entered with the cakes, a single tear rolled down Crystal Shine’s face. It was the first drop of the deluge. After that, the tears streamed down without end. Baker’s Dozen and Cinnamon Twist didn’t know what to make of it.

“These were her favorites,” Crystal Shine choked.

Baker’s Dozen was confused. “Her favorites? I don’t underst-“ his eyes suddenly widened with realization. “Oh.”

Cinnamon Twist was equally stunned. She’d never expected this. Suddenly her own problems and worries seemed pitifully insignificant. “There was another in your family, wasn’t there?” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please,” Fair Trade said, “don’t worry about us. It’s not worth troubling yourselves over.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Cinnamon Twist said, simultaneously cursing herself for her earlier reluctance to let these poor ponies in and trying her best to help. “If you feel up to it, tell us whatever you think you need to. Put your minds at ease.”

Nopony spoke for a few moments; the only sound breaking the silence was the occasional sobbing of Crystal Shine. Finally, she composed herself and spoke.

“We had a daughter in Manehatten. I can’t- I can’t even bring myself to say her name. I’ll just lose myself again if I do. We were attacked in the street when we were trying to evacuate. Our daughter…” Crystal Shine broke off, looking down at the table.

“Our daughter was lost in the crowds,” Fair Trade finished for her. “Nopony’s been back in the city for days now. If she was alive after the attack, her chances aren’t good now.”

“Like we said, both of us-“ Baker’s Dozen gestured to his wife and himself, “-will do anything we can to help you.”

“Taking us in was enough,” Crystal Shine whispered. “We’re grateful beyond gratitude for what you’ve done. We just ask that you allow us the chance to embrace the one thing we have left.”

“Of course,” Dozen said, “anything. What is it?”

Crystal Shine looked up, her face wet with the streams of her tears. “Revenge,” she said, trembling. “There is nothing left to live for now.”

Baker’s Dozen and Cinnamon Twist looked at each other with concern. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Cinnamon said. “You know we can’t let you run away to Manehatten. That won’t do anypony any good.”

Fair Trade shook his head. “That was never the plan. What we had in mind is much simpler… for the both of us.”

“It’s no secret that the Changeling advance is pointed this way,” Crystal Shine said. “Phillydelphia is the next major city in their path.”

“So it’s true, then,” Cinnamon Twist sighed. She should have felt scared, she knew. It had been her response earlier. Now, though, all she could feel was rage. These two newcomers had put a face on the war. She couldn’t just sit in the corner and cower anymore. Not with a lost filly struggling to survive without her parents only a little more than a hundred miles away- assuming she was still alive.

“When they arrive,” Crystal Shine continued, “we’ll be waiting for them. Even if it’s just the two of us. We’ll wipe out as many as we can.”

“That’s suicide!” Dozen said, nearly choking on his crumb cake.

“It was never meant to be a survivable plan,” Fair Trade countered quietly. “All I ask is that you two refrain from trying to stop us in any way. This is our fight, not yours. You must escape.”

Cinnamon Twist was completely stunned, as was her husband. Here were two ponies who had experienced more than their share of hardship, and now they wanted nothing less than to give their lives fighting the enemy. It was a bolt from the blue- completely unexpected. When Cinnamon Twist spoke next, her voice was unwavering and clear with determination.

“You want to fight? So do I. This bakery’s been in my family for generations. I won’t see it crumble with the rest of my city.”

“I feel the same way,” said Baker’s Dozen, “but I don’t think it’ll have to come to death. We Phillydelphians are nothing if not loyal to our city. We can organize a resistance, acquire weapons, build barricades-“

“You would do this for us?” Fair Trade said, eyes wide with surprise. “You would do this for our cause?”

Baker’s Dozen downed his food and narrowed his eyes. “We would. And besides- I think I could do with a break from baking for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Cinnamon said, cocking an eyebrow. “Trying to get out of the daily duties?”

“Not at all,” Baker’s Dozen winked, trotting over to a bookshelf and pulling down an old, large volume which he set down on the table, “but every resistance needs a slogan- something to stand for.” He cracked the book open, flipping through a few pages of a language nopony at the table but him had seen before and finally settling on one page in particular. “And I think I know where to begin.”

…

…surveillance reports indicated that Changelings were massing forces for a simultaneous Southern and Western expansion from Manehatten. Phillydelphia, therefore, could not be a permanent home for the refugees, as it was predicted to be in the path of the Changeling advance. Military plans called for a preemptive evacuation of all refugees and citizens. Prince Shining Armor and Princess Cadance arrived five days after the refugees, to speak with the citizens about the impending evacuation. It was at this time that a small group of citizens declared its intention to resist the Changeling advance…

…

Baker’s Dozen set down his newspaper and trotted over to the bakery’s storage room, where Cinnamon Twist was busily working away on an Equestrian Flag with her sewing machine. They’d found the old flag in storage the day after they’d first spoken with Crystal Shine and Fair Trade, and Cinnamon had been working all week to repair it. It was close to completion now, if not there already, and Dozen was impressed- there wasn’t a hole or any indication of wear in sight. Cinnamon Twist looked up as he entered.

“Newspaper,” Dozen said simply, “you should give the front page a read if you have the time.”

Cinnamon Twist stood and headed over to the bakery counter, where the newspaper had been set down, and started reading the front page. Her eyes pored busily over the paper for a few moments, gradually widening. Finally she looked up at her husband.

“No mistake?” she said, in awe, “they’re really coming here?”

“That’s what the paper said,” Baker’s Dozen replied. “Prince Shining Armor and Princess Cadance… I can scarcely believe it myself.”

Fair Trade trotted down from the upstairs loft, his wife following just behind him. “What’s going on?” he asked, yawning.

“Prince Shining Armor and Princess Cadance will address the citizens of Phillydelphia today!” Baker’s Dozen said, waving the newspaper excitedly.

“May I see that?” Fair Trade said, rushing down the stairs and accepting the paper from Baker’s Dozen. He and his wife glanced over it anxiously.

“This is perfect!” Fair Trade said, pumping a hoof in the air. “This is how we get our message across!”

“How?” Cinnamon Twist asked.

“The Prince and Princess will be giving their speech at the train station,” Fair Trade explained, “most of Phillydelphia will either be there or listening in on the radio.”

“I get it!” Cinnamon Twist said, “that will be our best chance for exposure.”

“Then I think it’s time for our cry to be heard,” Baker’s Dozen said, and everypony thought back to the night when the decision had been made. Deep within Dozen’s book, they’d found what they wanted- a word from times of old.

“Manusar,” Baker’s Dozen said, “we will bring the dawn to Equestria.”

“Manusar,” the others echoed. “For the dawn.”

…

The train ride to Phillydelphia had been long and difficult for Shining Armor and Cadance. They’d traveled from the Crystal Empire, which was now safely protected by the mysterious power of the Crystal Heart, to Phillydelphia in two days. In that time they’d been able to see fully the effects that the opening days of the war were having on the population. The train plowed on past groups of ponies heading West, away from the enemy. Stores closed down right in front of them in almost every town they passed through. In one particular case, a mare had tried to climb the train in a station and pass her two year old filly to Shining Armor through the window. All he could do was stare. Sorrow was not a deep enough emotion to describe what he was going through now. Equestria had been rocked to its core by the Changelings’ surprise invasion, and both Shining Armor and his wife, Cadance, were relieved when the Phillydelphia station came into view. Both were also, however, somewhat apprehensive. There was no telling what they might find in the city. The place was now the home of thousands of refugees, who would either look on the two royal figures with kindness or with loathing. It was too early to say which. As the train slowed to a stop, Shining Armor stood, offering his hoof to Cadance and helping her up.

“I’ve never been more nervous,” Shining Armor confessed as they prepared to leave the train.

“I know,” Cadance replied, “neither have I.”

The two prepared to make their entrance, but stopped when they noticed a pony standing on their podium. Standard procedure would have been to escort the mare away, but something in her words intrigued Shining Armor, and he held off his security detail.

“-this menace we face today is evil incarnate! They have no feelings. They massacred thousands! Can we leave the memories of our fallen brothers and sisters unavenged? The military has shed more than their share of blood. It is time for the citizens of Equestria to do their part! This great shadow that threatens to overtake this mighty city will not have its prize so easily! The Changelings will look upon us, the defenders of Phillydelphia, but they will not see fear in our eyes! They will see the flame of vengeance- the flame that kindles a thousand fires! They will see the light of a new dawn, and on that day, they will understand what it means to fear. They will fear us, and under our cries of ‘Manusar!’ they will cower…”

“Manusar?” Shining Armor said, puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘dawn,’ I believe,” Cadance said, “though I’m not as fluent in Ancient Alicorn as either Celestia or Luna is.”

“-a new day is dawning, my friends,” the mare continued, “and it is our responsibility to ensure it dawns on an Equestria without fear. Who will have the courage to stand with me in the face of adversity when that day comes?”

Cries of “Manusar” answered her. The mare looked back towards the train station and noticed Shining Armor and Cadance standing and watching her in awe.

“Forgive me,” the mare said, “I did not mean to take up your time.”

“No, not at all,” Cadance replied. “Please- tell us your name.”

“Cinnamon Twist,” the mare replied.

“Well, Miss Cinnamon Twist,” Shining Armor said, offering her his hoof, which she shook firmly, “it seems you’ve done our job for us.”

“Only if that job is riling up the citizens,” Cinnamon Twist said sheepishly. Shining Armor shook his head.

“You’ve inspired them,” he said. “You’ve given them a reason to fight. I could never have done that. I simply bring news from Canterlot- orders, actually.”

“Please take the podium,” Cinnamon twist said, stepping out of the way, “they need to see you at a time like this.”

Shining Armor and Cadance stepped forward into full view. Immediately the roars of the crowd faded to a whisper. Cinnamon Twist was impressed with the stallion’s presence. He had, in one glance, silenced the population of Phillydelphia. It then occurred to her that during her speech, she too had done the same.

“Citizens of Phillydelphia,” Shining Armor began, “you are all aware of the darkness that has enshrouded this land. The Changeling invaders are here, and they have no intention of leaving on their own. We do not know their motives, but we do know that they are an evil- and an evil to be reckoned with. As you already know, thanks to the brave Cinnamon Twist whom I had the pleasure of speaking to a few moments ago, the Changelings will come here next. My official instructions-“ he paused, taking out a note card with the details of Phillydelphia’s evacuation on it. He stared hard at the paper, steeling himself for what he was going to do next. He ripped the card in two, then scattered the paper to the wind. “My official instructions are no longer important. I know better than to convince you not to fight for this beautiful and wondrous city. Some of you still wish to leave. Perhaps many of you do, in fact, and it is to those ponies that I wish to speak now. The evacuation of Phillydelphia begins today. Those who do not wish to fight, and those with children are free to leave now. I am assigning all of you to the care of 35th platoon and its subsequent reinforcements. The first wave of evacuation will begin at dusk. To the officers and enlisted of 35th platoon, I also have special instructions. You are to turn over your weapons to the defenders of Phillydelphia. I suspect they will be quite grateful for them. No Changeling threat has been able to reach the roads south of here, so there will be no need for weapons.” He turned back to Cinnamon Twist and Cadance as the crowd began to murmur. “Will you two please come forward?” he asked. Cadance stepped up to his side, but Cinnamon Twist was caught completely off guard. Prince Shining Armor had asked for her? Hesitantly she took her place on Cadance’s left as Shining Armor addressed the crowd once more.

“Soldiers, bring your weapons forward to the podium, then proceed to Sunset Stadium. Evacuees, you will follow them to the stadium and begin leaving the city at dusk. Any items you cannot carry should be brought to the train station and tagged. They will be sent to Canterlot. Once all personal items are clear, we will start using the train to evacuate those remaining to Canterlot. You may now go to your homes and begin collecting your belongings. Soldiers, I trust that you will do what is right. Now, I wish to finally address those who have proclaimed themselves defenders of this city. I ask that you remain here after the others have gone. I would speak with you.”

“May the Sun and Moon watch over your journey,” Cadance said to the departing evacuees. Cinnamon Twist looked up in awe at Shining Armor.

“Your Highness,” she said, nearly speechless, “you had orders, and you just- you just…”

“They were my orders,” Shining Armor said. “They were mine to do with as I pleased. When I saw how different things were in Phillydelphia, so completely opposite from what I’d expected, I couldn’t leave them as they were.” He turned to Cadance. “Shall we?” he asked, nodding towards the group of ponies congregating near the soldiers’ discarded weapons.

“Of course,” Cadance replied. Shining Armor turned to Cinnamon Twist.

“And will you join me as well?”

Cinnamon Twist bowed her head. “Sir, I am a civilian, no different than those who wait for you. I didn’t even want Manehatten’s refugees in this city a week ago.”

Cadance shook her head with a smile. “You’ve done much more than the average citizen, Cinnamon Twist. You discredit yourself without cause. Your followers have established you as a leader. Come with us and take the last few steps to becoming one.”

Cinnamon Twist’s knees went weak, and her stomach seemed to plummet. Leader? She’d never intended to be a leader, nor did she trust herself to care for all of the ponies now looking upon her with anxious eyes. She was about to shake her head in refusal when she caught two faces in the crowd- Fair Trade and Crystal Shine. Without so much as a word, Crystal Shine nodded, and in that nod, Cinnamon accepted what she had to do next.

“Alright,” she said to Shining Armor, “I’ll accompany you.”

The three ponies descended into the small crowd below, and Cinnamon Twist was instantly swarmed by her friends and neighbors, shouting words of appreciation with cries of “Manusar!” interspersed. Cinnamon Twist stuck by Cadance’s side, and was amazed by the Princess’s grace and caring. She whispered words of encouragement to all she met, and at one point even agreed to marry two citizens who wished to be wed before the fighting started. Their ceremony was planned, executed, and confirmed within the course of just ten minutes, with a little magical assistance, of course. They made their way to the pile of weapons where they finally stopped. Cadance turned to Cinnamon Twist.

“I think it’s time for you to address those who would follow you now,” she whispered with a smile. Cinnamon Twist gulped nervously, but stood tall.

“Everypony? Everypony, may I have your attention?” she shouted. The crowd fell silent. Cinnamon Twist was amazed. She’d never expected to be here, and to be here as a leader… that was unprecedented.

“I am not a leader, nor am I a warrior,” Cinnamon continued. “I wish I could tell you that you’ll all be able to come out of this safely, but I think you know that I cannot. Each and every one of us must be prepared to die in the defense of this country. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but someday our country will look back on our actions, and see just what Phillydelphians and Manehattenites are made of. This is our chance to show everypony that this country’s citizens have the will to resist. We will not falter, and we will not fall back.” Cinnamon reached into the weapons pile and removed a white crossbow from it, lifting it high. “With the taking of this weapon,” she said, steadily raising her voice to a shout, “our fight begins!”

Princess Cadance looked on at the display of pure bravery before her, and a tear came to her eye. Nothing could have prepared her for such a demonstration of heart as this. To know that somepony such as this was about to put her very life on the line was almost too much. She turned to Shining Armor, and in her eyes, he could see exactly what she felt. He simply nodded. He felt the same.

“Cinnamon!”

Cinnamon Twist looked through the crowd just in time to see Baker’s Dozen leap towards her and catch her in his embrace. Behind him, Fair Trade and Crystal Shine followed. “Cinnamon, I’m so proud of you,” Baker’s Dozen said as they released each other. “We’ve done it. We have enough ponies to defend the city now.”

A small smile played about Cinnamon Twist’s mouth and she turned to Fair Trade and Crystal Shine. “You were the ones who kindled this flame,” she said simply, “and you should be the first of the defenders to choose a weapon.”

Without a word, but with faces displaying pure gratitude, the couple hurried past her to the weapons pile. The rest followed, forming several lines around the pile.

“Equestria will know of this,” Shining Armor said to Cinnamon Twist, “Princess Cadance and I will ensure it. I wish we could remain with you longer, but we must be back in Canterlot tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Cinnamon Twist said. “You are needed elsewhere. I’m just so glad you could be here today. Seeing you… it’s beyond inspiration.”

“Thank you,” Shining Armor said.

“If there’s anything else we can do-“ Cadance added.

Cinnamon Twist shook her head. “You’re both doing your part right now. Coming out to speak to those who look up to you shows Equestria that you care,” she looked out over the crowd of ponies now arming themselves, “I just hope we’re enough to make a difference.”

“You already have,” Cadance said. “Numbers alone do not win a battle. You have heart. In the days ahead, I think we’ll all be able to take example from your actions here.”

Cinnamon Twist saw the sun descending. The evacuation would begin soon. Within a few hours, the city would belong to the defenders, and they would be the only ones standing between the Changelings and Manehatten.

…

… the defenders took up the term “Manusar” as their war cry, which roughly translates to “dawn” in the Alicorn tongue. They armed themselves following the Prince’s speech, and evacuations began shortly thereafter. The evacuations continued throughout the night, and through most of the following day. By noon, Phillydelphia was deserted. The rest of this report is based on the accounts of observations made outside of the city, as there was no military presence in Phillydelphia during the following two days…

…

“Thicker, higher! That barricade wouldn’t stand up to a snowball fight let alone a magical attack!” Cinnamon Twist yelled as she threw a dinner chair onto a steadily accumulating pile of debris in the middle of the street near her bakery. She turned at the sound of hoofsteps in time to see Baker’s Dozen approaching.

“Hey Cinnamon,” he said, eyeing the barricade. He whistled. “Not bad so far.”

“Well, it’s going to have to get better fast,” Cinnamon Twist said, watching as the sun began to dip below the horizon, “the Changelings aren’t going to wait for us to prepare.”

“That’s actually what I meant to talk to you about- preparations,” Baker’s Dozen said, “would you mind following me inside for a moment?”

“Of course,” Cinnamon Twist agreed, turning and walking beside her husband towards the bakery. They stepped inside and were immediately engulfed in a sea of ponies rushing about, all tending to important, time-critical tasks. The bakery had been chosen as the resistance’s base of operations, and Baker’s Dozen had been chosen as a military planner, along with an Army Unicorn who’d volunteered to stay behind. Dozen led Cinnamon upstairs and into the loft bedroom, where a massive map of the city had been laid out on top of a board on the bed.

“We’ve got a plan, I think,” Baker’s Dozen said, nodding to his assistant planner. The Unicorn took over, directing Cinnamon’s attention to the map.

“The Changelings have a significant advantage in numbers,” he explained, “so we had to devise a method of ensuring that we don’t fight their whole force at once. We can accomplish that,” he said, moving his hoof in a circle around the city, “by placing skilled Unicorns capable of generating magical shields at all of the city’s entrances save for this one,” he pointed at the location where the barricade outside was being set up. “This is where we’ll conduct our defense. The Changelings will want to take the path of least resistance, and since this will be the only opening into the city, they’ll be forced to try and fight through this location. Now obviously we have the barricade. That’s where we’ll concentrate the majority of our force. We can also hide sharpshooters in the buildings beside the barricade as well.”

Cinnamon Twist studied the map carefully, nodding. “It’s a well-thought plan. Good job. How soon can we have this set up?”

“Just say the word and we’ll have the Unicorns at their posts within the hour,” the Unicorn answered. Cinnamon rose and looked him in the eye.

“Excellent, then let’s get it done.”

Cinnamon Twist turned on her hooves and headed back downstairs with Baker’s Dozen right behind her. Together they walked back out into the street as the last light of day disappeared. It was strange, Cinnamon marveled, to stand out here in the empty street. Normally this part of town was filled with the smell of fresh food. Most of the ponies who made the food, however, were long gone by now. Cinnamon Twist and Baker’s Dozen were the only two who remained. Cinnamon Twist shook her head, clearing her thoughts. It was time to focus on the task at hoof: defending the city. Behind her she heard the telltale wingwash of a Pegasus landing. She turned around and saw a white Pegasus with a blue mane standing behind her. The tip of one of her wings was singed, and she was panting hard.

“The Changelings are approaching, and they’re much closer than we anticipated. They took a few shots at me when I approached. Funny thing, though- none of them could fly. They’re only about ten hours away from the city at a marching pace, so they’ll be here tomorrow. Early.”

“Thank you,” Cinnamon Twist said, patting the Pegasus on the shoulder, “get inside and have that wing looked at. Then get some rest. I think tomorrow’s going to be a rough day for all of us.”

As the Pegasus left, Cinnamon turned to Baker’s Dozen, concerned. “They’re early,” she said, “we weren’t expecting them tomorrow. Maybe in two or three days, but-“

“Don’t worry,” Baker’s Dozen reassured his wife. “From the looks of things, we’ll be done fortifying the city by morning. Sounds like we’ll only be facing a land force, too. Grounded Changelings… never heard of that before, but it puts a load off my mind.”

“If you say so,” Cinnamon Twist said as Crystal Shine and Fair Trade approached from the barricade. They’d been put in charge of overseeing the construction of the massive fortification, and they’d leapt to the task like timberwolves to a kill.

“We’re nearly there,” Fair Trade said excitedly, “I don’t think something even as strong as a cannon could penetrate that barricade.”

“That’s good to hear,” Cinnamon Twist said, “get yourself something to eat when that barricade’s finished.”

“Will do!” Crystal Shine said as she and her husband raced back to the heap of discarded objects and appliances. Watching everypony at work, Cinnamon Twist felt a sense of pride. She’d always known how hard-working and resourceful her fellow citizens were, but to see them in action was purely inspiring. Cinnamon Twist turned as she heard a low humming noise, and was just in time to see waves of blue magic engulfing the city, covering it in a protective layer with the exception of the barricade. It wouldn’t be long now.

…

Reports indicate that first contact with the Changeling forces occurred around 0730 hours the morning following the evacuation…

…

Cinnamon Twist cracked her eyes open slowly. The first rays of dawn were spilling through the windows of her shop. She stood slowly, still waking up. Her husband was still asleep on the bedroll they’d been using for the past week. Outside, Cinnamon could see the bleary-eyed ponies who had accepted the night watch staring intently outside the city. She pushed the front door open and trotted out to check on them, trying her best to look alert. Clambering over rubble, she slowly worked her way to the top of the barricade and tapped one of the lookouts on the shoulder.

“Anything?” she whispered. The lookout nodded.

“North, about six or so miles away. Give your eyes some time to adjust.”

Cinnamon stared ahead, in the direction the lookout indicated. Her eyes were still slow to focus, but she squinted, forcing them to do so regardless. There was certainly something out on the horizon, but it was too far to… Cinnamon Twist drew in a sharp intake of breath. There they were- the enemy- in force. Getting a numerical estimate was out of the question. A mass of black was spreading over the hills like a shadow. Just as the scout had said, none of them were airborne, but that didn’t make them any less intimidating.

Cinnamon Twist stood. “All of you get some rest,” she said to the lookouts, “go wake everypony else up. We’ll need replacements, and lots of them.”

The lookouts nodded appreciatively and scrambled down the barricade, heading for the bakery and the surrounding buildings. Cinnamon Twist, meanwhile, returned to her observations. She hadn’t expected so many Changelings. Then again, perhaps she had. She just hadn’t prepared herself for how massive such a force would actually be. The sound of hoofsteps signaled the arrival of reinforcements. Cinnamon Twist turned as a brown stallion arrived behind her. She recognized him as one of the occupants of the pizzeria just down the road- the resistance’s sole fletcher’s current residence.

“You there,” she said to the stallion, “I need you to go back to our fletcher. See if he can double his efforts with some help. We don’t have enough arrows to supply those of us without magic as a weapon.”

The stallion nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” He turned and ran back to the pizzeria, disappearing inside. Cinnamon turned her attention back to the approaching aggressors. They were clearly closer now. She shook her head and hopped down from her spot on the barricade. When she reached the street, she turned and headed for the bakery. She wasn’t sure why, but at least it gave her something to do. Anything beat just sitting around here.

…

Cinnamon Twist and Baker’s Dozen were both huddled over their flag. They’d found a pole for it and were prepared to finally show the colors over the barricade, but something didn’t seem right. Cinnamon wasn’t sure what it was, but she had no intention of displaying the flag until whatever mystery problem she had was corrected. They’d been puzzling over it for the past two hours when Cinnamon finally had it.

“Ha,” she said, “I’ve got it!”

Baker’s Dozen sighed with relief. “Good to hear, honey. What’s wrong?”

“Here’s what’s wrong,” Cinnamon said, mentally kicking herself for not seeing it all along, “we’re bearing the standard of Equestria- the same flag the military uses.”

Dozen stared blankly at her. “Yes… and what does that have to do with anything?”

“We’re not the military!” Cinnamon said, “we’re doing this to show the citizens of Ponyville that they have an obligation to rise against the Changelings, too! We need our own personal touch, something like-“ Cinnamon’s eyes drifted over to a knife lying next to the flag. It was Dozen’s sidearm. Dozen followed her gaze.

“A knife?” he asked.

“Not quite,” Cinnamon said, grabbing the blade. Before Dozen could react, she made a small cut across her left front leg. Baker’s Dozen was too shocked to speak. Cinnamon dabbed her right hoof in the blood and began writing, using the blood as ink to write letters on the flag. When she was finished, she stood back and looked on with pride at the flag. “Manusar” was written just under the top border of the flag, right above the figures of Celestia and Luna.

“It’s our flag now,” Cinnamon said, wiping her leg off on Dozen, “glad to have your support.”

Dozen looked at his now bloody side. “Always happy to help, Twist,” he replied, heading to the bathroom to wash himself off. Cinnamon repressed a chuckle as he left and grabbed a towel, wrapping it over her cut. As she tied off the towel, a pony burst inside.

“They’re coming!” he yelled. Cinnamon felt adrenaline surge through her body like a tidal wave.

“Everypony, to your weapons! The fight begins now! Follow me!” Cinnamon Twist grabbed her crossbow and bolts and ran to the barricade, scrambling up it and peering over. The Changelings were on the verge of entering the city. She could hear them marching in perfect cadence, their hoofsteps echoing through the buildings like thunder.

“Halt!” the lead Changeling called. The army halted and the Changeling stepped forward. To Cinnamon’s amazement, he bore no wings, but was covered in a black and green shell-like armor. “Who goes there?” he yelled to the ponies on the barricade.

“The defenders of Phillydelphia!” Cinnamon Twist yelled back.

The Changeling blinked once, with a look of incredulous surprise on his face. He hadn’t expected this in the least.

“Are you the leader of this resistance?” he asked finally.

“Yes!”

“Then I would speak with you regarding your terms of surrender.”

Cinnamon Twist growled to herself. The Changelings were proving to be quite full of themselves. She ran her hoof down the length of her crossbow. She wanted nothing more right now than to take out the leader, but it wouldn’t be right. She cursed quietly and replied.

“Surrender? Mister, I think you have the wrong city. We don’t surrender here.”

The Changeling looked back at his forces, then back to Cinnamon before speaking again. “Does it really have to come to this? If you fight, you will all die for nothing. If you surrender, we take you alive! Look at us! We have an advantage in strength!”

“Yes,” Cinnamon said, looking over as three ponies took their places by her side- Baker’s Dozen, Fair Trade, and Crystal Shine- “but what we lose in strength we more than make up for with heart.” Cinnamon Twist rose to her hooves and planted the resistance’s flag in the center of the barricade. “Manusar!” she yelled, “we will bring dawn to Equestria!”

“Manusar!” the cry issued from the mouth of everypony on or near the barricade, “dawn to Equestria!”

The Changeling commander shook his head and frowned in disgust, turning back to his forces. “Cut them down,” he said with venom in his tone, “fire!”

The Changelings in the front of the formation pointed their glowing horns towards the figures on the barricade. “Everypony down!” Cinnamon cried out, dropping behind cover just as the magical bolts cut through the air above her head. “Fire!” Cinnamon called once she had her bearings. She poked her head over the barricade after she was sure the first volley was done, raised her crossbow, selected a target, and fired. A Changeling dropped from the ranks, a bolt protruding from its forehead. He was the first, as more bolts and arrows rained down on the Changelings from all sides. The leader was nowhere to be seen, but Cinnamon could hear him.

“Return fire!” he yelled as more of his soldiers were cut down. Cinnamon Twist squinted as chunks of a wooden table supporting the barricade flew up towards her face. It was utter chaos. The air was thick with debris of all sorts. As she let off another shot, she glanced up at the city skyline. The magical shields were still in place. Good. Thus far, there were no casualties either. Another magical bolt impacted in front of her, throwing up sawdust into Cinnamon’s face. She coughed and spat, looking for the one who had fired at her. It was impossible, of course. All of the Changelings looked the same. Cursing, she selected an enemy targeting one of the archers on the barricade’s left side. One pull of the trigger later, the Changeling was down. A few daring Changelings attempted to climb the barricade, but they were cut down by the sharpshooters in the buildings on either side of the street.  Scanning the enemy’s ranks down the length of her crossbow, Cinnamon searched for the leader who’d proposed surrender. After a few minutes of ducking and scanning, she found him in the middle of the formation- safe, or so he believed.

Cinnamon raised her weapon and took aim. She slowed her breath, and began putting pressure on the trigger. Slowly she squeezed, and without keeping her sights off the leader, fired. The recoil upset her aim, but the bolt flew true, striking the Changeling leader in the shoulder. He immediately sank to the ground, obviously still alive. “Fall back!” he yelled, “fall back!”

The Changelings pulled back from the streets, leaving dead and dying comrades where they were. “Cease fire!” Cinnamon Twist ordered. When she was absolutely sure that the Changelings were retreating and out of range, she relaxed her hold on her crossbow.

“Stand down,” she said, “take care of yourselves. We need to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.”

As Cinnamon Twist hit the ground, she realized why she’d never seen a casualty on the barricade. All of the injured were here, at street level. They’d been hustled off the barricade as soon as they’d been hit. Cinnamon stepped gingerly between the wounded fighters, congratulating those who were conscious. There were a variety of wounds, ranging from small scrapes to large, gaping magical impact wounds. Cinnamon passed a young stallion who had suffered a hit from a magical bolt to his side. The wound was fatal, but he was fighting for consciousness regardless. When Cinnamon saw him, a sinking feeling rushed over her; she knew this one had no chance of making it. She knelt by his side as makeshift medics began issuing him painkillers. The stallion gritted his teeth and groaned, lifting his head to stare Cinnamon in the eyes.

“Have they retreated?” he asked.

Cinnamon dipped her head. The stallion’s gaze was hard to bear. Finally her tearful eyes met his determined ones. “Yes, we’ve beaten them back.”

The stallion let out a long sigh and stopped his struggles, leaning his head back. “I knew we could do it,” he whispered, “it’s all thanks to… thanks to you.”

As the stallion closed his eyes, Cinnamon clasped one of his hooves in hers. She felt his pulse grow fainter and fainter until it was gone completely. Still, Cinnamon held on, hoping there was some chance he might return.

“He’s gone,” the stallion’s healer whispered, “there’s nothing more we can do.”

Cinnamon Twist drew back slowly, finally releasing the stallion’s hoof. Had she done this? Had she caused the death of this pony? She knew he’d volunteered to fight, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was responsible. She remained there, staring at the lifeless pony until a hoof tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around. It was Baker’s Dozen. He was dirty, but apart from a small cut above his left eye, he was unharmed. Cinnamon said nothing- just hugged him.

“We did it, Cinnamon,” Dozen whispered, “we beat them back.”

“For now, maybe,” Cinnamon replied, “but they’ll return.”

When the two released each other, Dozen spoke. “Cinnamon, there are a few ponies who wish to speak with you. I don’t know what it’s about, but they said it was urgent.”

“Alright,” Cinnamon said, following her husband to a group of about twenty ponies. All looked severely shell-shocked.

“Miss Cinnamon Twist?” one of the ponies said, looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact, “we wish to speak with you.”

“I’m here,” Cinnamon said hesitantly, realizing with a sinking feeling where this conversation was probably headed, “speak away.”

The pony cleared his throat. “After experiencing battle with the Changelings, we wish to leave. None of us expected this. We simply ask that you consider our statement. We lack the courage you have.”

Cinnamon Twist had heard exactly what she’d expected, but the statement still hit her like a punch to the gut. The resistance was spread thin as it was. To lose some soldiers could be disastrous. “You want to leave? After a ten minute engagement, you just want to desert us? If you had any sense of-“ Cinnamon stopped herself, looking back at the dead and wounded lying in the street. She shook her head. She had no right to retain these ponies.

“Very well,” she said, “you may go. Speak to one of the Unicorns on the far side of the city. Say that you have my permission to leave.”

The pony who had spoken nodded silently, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” Cinnamon said. The pony turned around hesitantly. “Thank you for your service here. Spread the news of this resistance. Consider this your final order from me.”

“Of course,” the pony said, and his companions nodded agreement. Then they began walking. To Cinnamon, it felt like betrayal, but there was nothing she could do.

“We’ll make up for their loss,” Baker’s Dozen said quietly. “We can still fight, and we will until not one of us remains alive.”

“I know you will,” Cinnamon said, “and so will I…” she paused for a moment, then turned fully to Dozen. “Do you think- do you really think- that we can survive this?”

Baker’s Dozen looked at his wife with an expression of the utmost seriousness. “I don’t know,” he said, “I really don’t know. But I’m going to stay here until the end.”

…

…after the first major engagement, no shots were fired from either side for the rest of the day. The Changelings, according to other reports, were regrouping and preparing for another attack. The next major offensive action occurred that night, during which Equestria was finally introduced to the Changelings’ newest weapon. The attack was visible from as far inland as Canterlot…

…

Night had fallen. Cinnamon Twist’s muscles ached from lying prone upon the barricade throughout the day. She’d felt sure that the Changelings were planning a second attack, but she had no idea when such an attack might come. To that end, she’d spent the entire day looking out towards the Changelings. They barely moved. Without much else to do, Cinnamon had then begun thinking about things. Chief among her thoughts was the fact that she could very well die soon- a humbling thought, but not entirely frightening. If things came to death, Cinnamon felt she could accept letting go of her grasp on this world. She’d also considered how the whole resistance had begun, with Crystal Shine’s and Fair Trade’s story about their daughter. They’d said they weren’t positive if she was alive. Why, then, were they up here, ready to sacrifice their lives? They had something to live for, as long as a chance remained that their daughter was still out there. Cinnamon groaned as the thought once again began to circulate through her mind. Realizing that it wasn’t going to go away any time soon, and that the Changelings weren’t going anywhere either, she decided to confront Fair Trade and Crystal Shine. They weren’t hard to find. Both were near the bottom of the barricade, checking and cleaning their weapons. As soon as Cinnamon approached, they both looked up.

“Are the Changelings making another attack?” Fair Trade asked.

Cinnamon sighed. “No, and I don’t think they intend to. I actually came down here to ask you a question.”

“Well ask away,” Crystal Shine said. “We owe you answers.”

“Very well,” Cinnamon said, “now this may sound simple, but I want you to answer honestly: why are you here?”

The couple simply stared at Cinnamon Twist, then looked to each other, confused. Both believed they’d already adequately answered Cinnamon’s question before. Finally, Fair Trade spoke.

“Revenge,” he said, “I thought we’d already made that clear.”

“You did,” Cinnamon answered, “because of your daughter. But I still don’t get it- why do you insist on putting yourselves in this position when there’s a chance your daughter’s still alive?”

“That’s impossible,” Crystal said, “the chances are so slim… Manehatten’s crawling with Changelings.”

“Yes,” Cinnamon said, “yes, that may be. But even if the chances of her survival were one in a million, I think you owe it to your daughter to carry on.”

“What are you saying?” Fair Trade asked.

Cinnamon dipped her head. She’d already dismissed several fighters today, and losing some of the cause’s most dedicated warriors would be difficult. Still, it had to be done. “I’m saying that I give you permission- and my recommendation- to leave this place now, before the fighting gets any worse. There will be no shame in it.” Cinnamon struggled to find something else to say, but she could not. Fair Trade and Crystal Shine were awestruck.

“But this is our fight,” Crystal Shine said, “we can’t just leave you.”

“Yes you can,” Cinnamon said, “because this was your fight once. Now the battle has fallen to us-“ Cinnamon gestured with her hoof to the ponies around her, “-the citizens of Phillydelphia. Everything I have to live for is here in this city. You have something to live for elsewhere. Your fight has only begun.”

“And what is our fight, then, if not against the Changelings?” Fair Trade asked.

“Your fight,” Cinnamon replied, “is to stay alive, confident that your daughter will see you again when this all ends. I fear that, for the rest of us, our time left in this fight is short. It’s up to you two to keep the hope of a free Equestria alive. If you die, so does the dream.”

The couple from Manehatten was speechless. They hadn’t expected Cinnamon to willingly dismiss two warriors, but now they understood, and began to realize that she was right.

“I understand,” Fair Trade said, “but you can’t afford to-“ he stopped as a flash of brilliant green light in the distance lit up his face. Cinnamon Twist turned towards the source. Far away, in the direction of Manehatten, a burning green orb trailing magical fire arced up through the night sky. Everypony who gazed upon it was completely overcome by the beauty of the object, which was now reaching its apogee. It looked for all the world like a shooting star, slowly lumbering across the sky. Once the object began its descent, however, Cinnamon began feeling uneasy. It was headed for Phillydelphia. A second orb rose from Manehatten, following the path of the first, and Cinnamon Twist turned to Fair Trade and Crystal Shine.

“You need to leave,” she urged them, glancing anxiously back at the orbs, which were coming closer and closer, “now. Please, just go!”

The first orb smashed into the magical shield around Phillydelphia with a deafening roar and a burst of blinding light. Inside the shield, the defenders were protected from everything but the brightness of the blast; they were secure. As Cinnamon watched, however, the second orb smashed into the same spot as the first, and sparks began to dance across the shield. “It’s failing,” she realized.

“Go!” she said aloud to Fair Trade and Crystal Shine, “I’m not going to tell you twice! Get out of here!”

The ponies got to their feet and started galloping away as more orbs fell onto the shield. They stopped at an intersection, however, and looked back. A falling orb illuminated the barricade in a bright flash, and in that moment they could see Cinnamon Twist and Baker’s Dozen, silhouetted against the light and standing atop the barricade. They were directing the others to cover, but they stopped when they noticed that they were being watched. Slowly, Cinnamon Twist nodded once, and her husband followed suit. Crystal Shine felt a tear run down her cheek as she and her husband nodded back. Then they turned and continued their escape.

And they never once looked back.

…

The magical barrage continued through the night, and Cinnamon Twist, the only pony out on the barricade, was bearing the full brunt of the attack’s visual and audial assault. The shield was flickering, weakening with each successive pounding, making the Changelings’ intent all too clear to Cinnamon now: they fully intended on finding another way into the city. Cinnamon wondered to herself just how long a Unicorn could hold out against this constant bombardment. If the shield Unicorns could just keep this up until morning, they could still have a chance.

Another orb hit the shield and it flickered dramatically, almost faltering completely before it reassembled. Cinnamon gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as the thundering impacts shook her very bones. Her world was nothing now but the crash of magic against magic and flashing lights. She hunkered down and took a deep breath; tomorrow would come regardless of the Changelings’ attacks, and when it did, she was prepared to pour everything she had into showing the invaders just how little she’d been shaken. Blood would be spilled, more than likely her own, but Cinnamon had no fear. “After all,” she thought to herself, watching the city’s shield slowly fading in and out of existence, “everypony’s got to die sometime.”

…

…the shield around Phillydelphia failed at approximately 0600 hours the next morning, and once it did, the few Unicorns that had survived the magical barrage from the Changelings’ new long range weapon were slaughtered by the Changeling army. Over the next four hours, the Changelings divided with the intention of attacking the resistance from all sides…

…

Cinnamon and Dozen stood atop the barricade, looking down at the group of ponies below them. They’d started with nearly four hundred volunteers. Of them, almost a hundred fled the previous night, and two hundred were either dead or in critical condition. There were less than one hundred ponies between the Changelings and full occupation of the city now. Cinnamon knew better than to expect that the shield Unicorns were still alive. She’d watched as the magical shield had been dealt its death blow earlier in the morning. It had flickered once, then faded out forever. The sight confirmed Cinnamon’s realization that the next attack, one way or the other, would be the last. Even now, she knew, they were probably being encircled by the enemy. She had to make her words to her soldiers count.

“Citizens and fellow Equestrians,“ she began, “our shields have fallen, and even now our enemy is among us. They creep through our city like a plague, and they have only one goal: to wipe us out. Will they achieve that goal? I tell you with my most sincere honesty that I cannot say for certain what will happen in the next few hours. We are outnumbered and surrounded; our chances are not good. But even if we die here today, our message will live on. Our cries have not fallen upon deaf ears, I assure you. I want each and every one of you to stare down the foe without fear, as you’ve done since this war began. Bring the dawn!”

“Manusar!” the ponies roared back, and Cinnamon felt a surge of excitement. She turned to Baker’s Dozen and ran her hoof down his face.

“Dozen, I could never have asked for a better husband. You’ve sacrificed your dreams for me, and I can never fully repay you.”

“You won’t have to,” Baker’s Dozen replied, kissing his wife, “and I promise you that I’ll have your back. I will never leave your side.”

“Thank you,” Cinnamon Twist whispered. Down the road, she could see a few Changelings gathering. The attack would begin soon. The others noticed as well, and the quiet, nervous murmurings that had been going on for a while now suddenly stopped.

“You! Earth Pony! Face me!”

Cinnamon Twist turned around to face the voice that had called her. She’d almost forgotten that Changelings were on both sides of the barricade now. Standing below her, in the middle of the street, was the Changeling leader she’d shot the previous day. A patch of discolored armor had grown over the wound she’d inflicted with her crossbow.

“What is it now?” Cinnamon asked, glaring defiantly down at the aggressor.

“This is your final chance for surrender. You are surrounded, and escape is impossible. Why waste your lives preventing the inevitable? The city will be ours regardless of what you do. Spare yourselves and submit!”

“Never,” Cinnamon growled, and she spat down at the Changeling. She raised her crossbow in the leader’s direction as he stormed off to his troops. She wanted to fire with every fiber of her being, but she couldn’t. Even now, when every shred of common sense she had told her otherwise, Cinnamon could not bring herself to take a defenseless life. She lowered the weapon and turned to the citizens.

“To your weapons!” she yelled, “prepare for attack!”

Cinnamon Twist and Baker’s Dozen scrambled back up to the top of the barricade with a few fighters while others turned around to engage the forces from the rear. “Down!” Cinnamon hissed to the others on the barricade. The Changelings were forming up for an attack now, but none had actually fired yet. Something, Cinnamon felt, was going to be different about this particular attack.

“Ravagers forward!” the Changeling commander called. From the midst of the Changelings, two large, black shapes appeared. They looked like large, armored Changelings with two horns, converging at the tips, atop their heads, which appeared more similar to those of beetles than the horse-like faces of their comrades. Their legs, however, looked almost comically weak and unarmored. The two figures stopped in front of the barricade and lowered their heads, charging their horns with magic, and Cinnamon understood their purpose now. They were heavy weaponry, meant to take down the barricade piece by piece.

“Fire!” Cinnamon yelled, getting off the first shot in a volley of arrows, bolts, and magic. The Changelings scattered, but the Ravagers held their ground, still charging their horns. “Aim for the legs!” Cinnamon ordered, pointing to the Ravagers, “and… fire!” The next volley struck the Ravagers in the legs, impacting joints. The creatures went down quickly and were silenced for good with shots to the back of their necks. Cinnamon Twist switched her aim towards a few Changelings farther back, and was about to fire when a magical blast impacted next to her, throwing sparks up towards her eyes. She blinked once and looked back. The shot had come from behind her. Evidently the fighters defending the rear had engaged their Changeling force. She looked back at the enemy ahead, and was startled to find that two more Ravagers were already moving forward to take their fallen comrades’ places. They had to act fast. Cinnamon stood, raising her weapon, and the others did the same…

Then the Changeling commander made his move.

“Fire!” he yelled, and magical projectiles from the Changelings hurtled towards the defenders on the barricade, cutting down those not fast enough to duck and wounding others. Cinnamon saw a green projectile bearing down on her, and ducked, hoping to avoid it. As she pressed herself into the barricade, she felt a white hot pain rip across her left shoulder; the Changeling hadn’t entirely missed her. Hesitantly she glanced back. Her shoulder bore a raw, open wound. Thankfully, the magic had cauterized it, but it felt as if somepony was pressing her shoulder up against a hot baking sheet.

“You okay?” Baker’s Dozen asked as they both got back to their hooves.

“It’s nothing,” Cinnamon said, shaking his concern off, “focus on the battle, not me.”

As Cinnamon turned her eyes back on the Changelings, she ducked back down immediately. The Ravagers were about to fire, and she had no time to get a shot. “Cover!” she yelled. From the other side of the barricade, she heard the commander.

“Ravagers ready… fire!”

The barricade seemed to lift upwards, as if pushed by an unseen force as the magical bombardment tore into its foundations. Entire sections crumbled away, and splinters of debris flew through the air like tiny knives. Then the second round hit the barricade, and Cinnamon was sent flying by the force of its impact. She hit the ground, hard, her ears ringing from the sound of the exploding magic. She stood shakily, getting her bearings; her world was like a nightmare now. As her vision swam in and out of focus, she saw ponies bleeding in the street, dying. More rounds slammed into the barricade, blowing it apart. One mare wandered past, weeping hysterically. A six inch piece of wood was protruding from her eye.

“Cinnamon!”

Cinnamon Twist snapped herself out of her daze and focused on the voice that had called her. She turned around. Baker’s Dozen was there, his skin torn in several places. His right front leg bore a deep gash, and Cinnamon could see the glint of bone, but somehow, he was still standing. He held her crossbow in his left hoof, offering it to her.

“Let’s finish this,” he said, and coughed, forcing a small trickle of blood down his chin. He grimaced with pain, but forced his face into a smile as he looked at his wife. Cinnamon wanted nothing more than to rush him inside and treat his wounds, but she knew it wasn’t possible. Nodding, she took the crossbow back and forced a smile of her own.

“To the end,” she whispered, turning back to the barricade’s remains. Changelings were already swarming over the pile of rubble, slaughtering those who couldn’t resist. Other ponies were fighting back with close-quarters weapons. Cinnamon raised her crossbow and began picking off targets with a speed she’d never displayed before. Aim, fire, reload. Aim, fire, reload… fatigue did not affect her. She’d worked killing down to a pattern now. With every pull of the crossbow’s trigger, another enemy fell, and still they kept coming. Beside her, Baker’s Dozen was on his hind legs. He’d lost his bow, but had picked up another and was now loosing arrows like a madpony. Cinnamon heard a hiss and turned around, raising her crossbow just in time to block an attack from a Changeling behind her. The rear defense line had been broken; now, it was a two-front battle. The attacker’s weapon appeared to be a bladed, black growth from his right hoof. Cinnamon barely registered this as she pushed him back, firing a bolt into the Changeling’s skull. “Dozen!” she groaned, as the pain in her shoulder slowed her movements, “they’re attacking from both sides now!” Cinnamon heard no reply and turned to make sure her husband had acknowledged her words.

Baker’s Dozen lay on the ground, eyes fixated on the clear, blue sky. In the center of his chest, a small, still-smoking hole clearly showed the entry wound of a magical projectile. “Dozen!” Cinnamon Twist screamed, collapsing to the ground and shaking him. This wasn’t how he had been supposed to die. She hadn’t held him in her hooves, there had been no last words. He was simply alive one moment and dead the next. Cinnamon shook with rage at the unfairness of it all, biting her lip until she could taste blood. She forced her eyes shut and buried her face in her husband’s neck. There was nothing more that she could do for him- nothing but…

Cinnamon raised her head and focused on the barricade. Amazingly, the flag was still flying. There was still one thing left for her to live for. She forced herself to her hooves, grabbing a short sword lying within hooves’ reach, and began fighting her way through the Changelings, hacking and stabbing all the way. When the few remaining defenders saw her, they perceived nothing short of a saint, parting the ranks of the attackers as she moved determinedly towards her goal. It was nothing short of inspiring, and those who witnessed Cinnamon Twist’s march were spurred on, to keep fighting just a little longer. Cinnamon dug her hooves into the barricade, forcing herself to keep moving. The pain was almost immobilizing now, but the flag was dead ahead. She bashed a Changeling out of the way, pushing him onto several sharp splinters of wood below, and set her hooves on the flag at the exact same time somepony else did. Cinnamon Twist looked up and found herself face-to-face with the Changeling commander. When their eyes met, Cinnamon saw nothing but fear in her adversary’s gaze. With a cry of rage, she wrenched the flag out of his grip and brought it down on his head, sending him tumbling down amidst his own forces. Then, the forward momentum Cinnamon had seemed to carry failed at once, and she felt herself being pushed rapidly back, using the flag’s pole to deflect some blows, and her body to absorb others. She rejoined the small defensive line, which was now only a few feet away from the bakery, and bore the flag like a polearm, impaling enemies and beating others back until the flag and pole were covered in Changeling blood. Cinnamon’s body was now so racked with pain that she refused to even care anymore. Every ounce of strength in her went towards keeping the enemy at bay. Cinnamon shoved the pole into the midsection of a Changeling who had come too close, then swung him towards another approaching group, scattering them everywhere. Then she saw an all-too-familiar hulking, black shape rise over the barricades.

It was a Ravager, and its horn was glowing and pointing straight at the defenders.

Cinnamon had no time to move, and more than likely would have been unable to move anyway as the magical blast from the Ravager smashed into the ground less than ten feet away, scattering ponies and Changelings alike. Cinnamon was thrown clear through the door of the bakery, forcing herself to hold onto the flag even when she hit a table and stopped. She lay among broken glass, forcing herself to stand and get her bearings through eyes swollen shut with burns. Blood ran down her from wounds which covered her entire body, and she felt pressure on her abdomen. When she looked down, she saw a piece of wood firmly lodged in her stomach. She removed it, covering the wound with a hoof while she stumbled back, catching herself on what she now recognized as the case she and Dozen had so often used to display their prized baked goods. She rubbed her hoof fondly down its smooth surface, letting the memories wash over her. She was finally at peace. Even when Changelings burst through the door and aimed their deadly horns at her, Cinnamon felt no fear. Then the Changelings parted, and the commander walked through the door. The side of his face was a mess of spiderwebbing patterns of drying green blood, and he was panting. He looked at Cinnamon with contempt; she, in turn, stared him down coolly.

“Surrender,” he gasped, “and it ends.”

Slowly, a smile spread across Cinnamon Twist’s burned face.

“No.”

The Changelings with their horns pointed towards Cinnamon opened fire, and Cinnamon Twist hurtled through the air, impacting the wall behind the counter. Every shot had found its mark, and as Cinnamon Twist lay on the floor, breathing in the sweet smell of polished wooden floorboards, she began to feel her senses slipping away.

The commander was about to turn and leave when a hoof appeared on the bakery counter. Cinnamon Twist had dragged herself up from the floor, and was holding the flag high.

“Manusar,” Cinnamon Twist said with a rattling breath.

“Destroy her,” the commander said in disgust. Then he turned and opened the bakery door, stepping out into the street.

Cinnamon Twist watched him leave and stared into the glowing horns of the enemy. The green light seemed to beckon to her. She’d done her part, and it was finally time to rest. When the magical bolts flew towards her, Cinnamon mentally welcomed their embrace. Then she was once again slammed into the wall. Cinnamon held her flag in a death grip as she sank back to the floor. Her head drooped over to her shoulder and saw the flag up close. She didn’t bother turning her head. Instead she focused on the figures of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. There they were, almost dancing around a split sun and moon on a backdrop of blue sky, twinkling with stars. Cinnamon’s gaze never left that flag, even as her vision slowly faded to black, and she knew no more.

…

…the Changelings attacked the rest of the resistance, killing everypony without the intent of keeping prisoners. The final casualty count for the engagement is as follows:

Changelings: 1,230 dead (estimated), almost 2,000 wounded (estimated).

Resistance: 340 dead, no traceable survivors.

While the Changelings’ attack had been predicted, their actions following the battle were completely unexpected by any military planners…

…

Queen Chrysalis gazed at the carnage through the eyes of her field commander. She’d seen everything- including Cinnamon Twist’s final moments- and she burned with rage.

“Stand by for orders,” she thought, transmitting her statement telepathically to the commander. Such was the glory of the hive mind which she controlled. Chrysalis turned to her mate, Chitin, who was standing beside her.

“We’ve created over three hundred martyrs in that city,” she hissed to the male Changeling ruler, “and this severely hampers our plan to crush the spirits of the Equestrians.”

“Burn the city to the ground,” Chitin suggested, “send a message of our own.”

“Destroy a resource?” Chrysalis growled, “are you out of your mind?”

“Phillydelphia holds no strategic value,” Chitin countered, “it does us more good to simply level it.”

Chrysalis nodded as she mulled over her mate’s words. The message that the resistance had sent to Equestria- that anypony could defy her- was strong, and Chitin’s idea, as radical as it was, could very well be the only way to counter it. Chrysalis nodded. “Very well, the city will be destroyed. Let us hope our message carries as strong a tone as the resistance’s.”

“Commander, remove your troops from Phillydelphia and wait for additional reinforcements to arrive before continuing your advance. Any troops remaining in the city will cease to exist in one hour,” Chrysalis thought, projecting her orders to the commander in Phillydelphia. In her mind, her view shifted to that of the commander, and she watched, satisfied, as he carried out her orders, telling the troops to withdraw from the city. Chrysalis smiled.

“Chitin, come with me. I think it’s only fitting we have the honor of activating Sharur for this task.”

“Of course,” Chitin said, smiling grimly, “the pleasure is mine.”

…

Fair Trade watched, speechless, as the Changelings withdrew from Phillydelphia under the watchful eyes of a squadron of reconnaissance Pegasi. He and Crystal Shine had seen the entire battle, and they knew now that any hope that some of the only friends they’d met since the war began were still alive was now gone. They simply stared at the silent city from their perch atop a hill nearly two miles away, hearing nothing but the cold, mournfully howling breeze that indicated winter’s impending arrival. Finally, Crystal Shine approached her husband.

“We should leave now,” she said softly. Fair Trade said nothing, but nodded. As they turned to leave, a glint of green caught Fair Trade’s eye. He turned. It was another orb from Manehatten, though this one was larger than those used in the previous night’s attack. It followed the same path as the barrage that had destroyed Phillydelphia’s shield, arcing towards the city below. Fair Trade was drawn to the sight with a terrible fixation. He didn’t want to see what was coming next, but some small part of him had to know. The orb hit, falling amidst a cluster of skyscrapers, and Fair Trade shielded his eyes as blinding white light filled his vision. Next, a thundering roar sounded as he and his wife were swept off their hooves by a blast of hot air. The sound seemed to shake the atmosphere, and the wind persisted while Fair Trade struggled to maintain his hold on the hill. Then as suddenly as it started, the sound, wind, and light died down. Fair Trade pushed himself to his hooves and gazed back out towards the city.

There was nothing left. The few structures that hadn’t been turned to ash were rapidly crumbling. Nothing more remained of the city that had welcomed him and his wife back to civilization. He stared, completely frozen by the sight, until he felt a nudge on his shoulder. It was Crystal Shine.

“Please,” she urged, “let’s go now.”

The ponies turned, heading south towards the city of Baltimare. From there, they intended to take a train to Canterlot or Ponyville. It would be hard to start again, but they both knew that without Cinnamon Twist, they would never have had the chance to be here, alive. She had given them the ultimate gift: the chance to restart their lives with new hope, and they had no intention of wasting that chance. They’d hold out for as long as it might take- to the war’s end if necessary- determined that they might once again see their little Caramel Swirl.

…

…the Changelings completely destroyed Phillydelphia through the use of their new long-range magic-based weapon. Their motives were obvious- Phillydelphia was not a strategically advantageous location, and they felt that leveling it might imply to Equestria that resistance was foolish and pointless. As such, the Changelings never set hoof in the ruins of the city again, allowing a chance for EAF Pegasi to conduct a brief search of the site. As expected, most of the city was ash and crumbled buildings. However, a scrap of the Equestrian flag with the word “Manusar” written on it was recovered from a collapsed building outside of the blast’s incineration zone. It was found near the body of a female Earth Pony, who appeared to have shielded most of the flag from the blast. It is possible that this body was that of Cinnamon Twist, the pony responsible for organizing the resistance against the Changelings, but the recovery team was unable to confirm this, as the body was unrecognizable. Unfortunately, the rest of the flag was destroyed by one of the small fires created in the wake of the Changelings’ final strike on the city. I have attached the scrap in an envelope on the reverse side of this form. While it has no military or intelligence-related use, I feel it is necessary for us to preserve this scrap, as it reminds us of how the valiant efforts of a few forced our enemy to realize that we are capable of fighting back.

Very Respectfully,

Capt. Snow Breeze

…

I set down the report, a knot in my throat. This was the first I’d heard about the ponies of Phillydelphia. Most of us had assumed that the Changelings had simply destroyed an abandoned city. Now I knew that there was more to the story. Twilight was right- I needed to hear this account, even if it wasn’t a part of the military’s campaign against the invaders. I set the paper down and look at the scrap one more time. “Manusar,” I whisper, “you brought dawn to Equestria.”

I set the scrap down, blow out the candle, and retire for the night.