The Eternity Project

Chapters

Foreword & Prologue
Chapter 3: Storm Riders
Chapter 4: Threading the Needle
Chapter 1: The Team
Chapter 2: Full Speed Ahead
Chapter 5: Foundation
Intermission: The Final Nightmare
Chapter 6: Waking Up
Chapter 7: Odd Harmonies
Chapter 8: The Sound of Violence

Foreword & Prologue

In the annals of Equestrian history, one question has sparked countless debates among scholars and common ponies alike: what truly sets an alicorn apart from other equines?

Some argue it’s their imposing stature and vast magical prowess. Others point to the unique fusion of earth pony strength, pegasus flight, and unicorn magic within a single being. A few, more religiously inclined, might revere alicorns as shepherds of the herd, sent from beyond the heavens.

When posed this very question, Princess Luna once offered a response that sent shivers through the spines of even the most stoic ponies:

“We are unbound by the shackles of mortality,” she answered. “Our gaze pierces the veil of time, extending beyond the fleeting lifespan of a single pony. We witness the ebb and flow of centuries, millennia, eons. This foresight is both our most magnificent gift and our most harrowing curse.”

Now, dear reader, consider this: If you could see a cataclysm looming on the distant horizon, a future where the winds of fate would shroud Equestria in darkness, blood, and madness, what would you do?

To stop such a catastrophe, what lengths would you go to? What sacrifices would you deem acceptable? Whose lives would you be willing to place upon the altar of a better tomorrow?

And if, despite your best efforts, you realized that averting disaster was impossible, would you still try? Would you meekly accept your fate, or would you rise up, defiant against the earth below and the heavens above, fighting tooth and hoof for every precious second of life, for every wide-eyed filly and colt, for every stalwart mare and stallion?

This is not a tale of honor. It is not a story of unambiguous heroism or clear-cut villainy.

This is the chronicle of an impossible struggle. Of ponies rearing up against the whims of fate. Of ingenuity, desperation and above all, sacrifice.

This is the saga of the Eternity Project.

This is the birth of the Crystal Empire.

Prologue

Dr. Crystal Melody shifted her weight from one hoof to another. Her eyes raced across the stuffed laboratory which was carved deep within Canterlot Mountain. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of a discarded crystal panel. Disheveled blue mane, unwashed gray coat—when had she last gone home?

Her Royal Highness, Princess Luna, had ordered an emergency meeting for all project staff. This was very unusual. Something extraordinary must have happened. The team consisted of hoofpicked scholars, engineers and scientists. Except for the soft collective humming of various devices, the room was utterly silent. The team held their breaths.

“This project has just been reranked to top priority. Any open requests for material, personnel or resources are herewith approved. Expect any future requests to be granted immediately,” the princess announced matter-of-factly.

Dr. Luminous Facet, the lead crystallographer, nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness. If I may be so bold as to inquire. We were only the fallback project, what happened to the other efforts?”

An expert in his field, the tall green stallion had a way of sycophancy that made him almost sound insulting. Dr. Melody noticed Dr. Facet adjusting his white mane, a nervous tic she had observed countless times over their years of working together. As usual when he was uncomfortable, his eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at the princess.

Princess Luna fixed him with a cold gaze. “They were failures. All failures. We hope that your work will not meet the same fate, Doctor. Please, show me the crystal.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Dr. Facet answered, as he led her to the center of the room.

There, one of his assistants gingerly placed his hooves on a protective metal cover and carefully took it off. Underneath, tucked inside thaumaturgically insulated casing, was a bright crystal. A dodecahedron roughly the size of a pony’s head. It pulsated with an inner light. Its faces were etched with intricate runic patterns, each one a carefully calculated magical circuit designed to channel and amplify emotional energy.

“Is it safe to use magic around this one?” the princess asked.

“Yes, Your Highness. We have not yet completed the final step of aligning its internal structure to resonate with thaumic wavelengths. It is still more or less inert,” Dr. Crystal Melody answered from behind them.

Dr. Melody liked to stay in the background and let Dr. Facet take the limelight, even though she had laid the theoretical groundwork for this venture with her theories on crystalline thaumo-harmonics.

Princess Luna’s horn glowed as she inspected the crystalline structure before her.

The lead crystallographer cleared his throat, never taking his eyes off the pulsating crystal.

“Your most esteemed Highness, what you’re witnessing is the culmination of years of research. We’re manipulating the crystal’s structure at a fundamental level, creating what we call ‘emotion-sensitive harmonic resonators’ within the lattice.”

Dr. Melody observed Luna’s eyes narrowing as the princess focused on the crystal. The glow from Princess Luna’s horn intensified, and she leaned in closer. Crystal Melody suppressed some envy, seeing how the princess was able to study the crystal without the assistance of any equipment. She knew what the alicorn was seeing. The crystal’s lattice was a three-dimensional maze of surfaces, each one precisely positioned to form a network capable of resonating with subtle emotional energies.

Dr. Facet paused, adjusting his mane slightly before continuing. “Your Highness, this crystal acts as a receiver for the emotional energy emitted by ponies. When calibrated correctly, the energy causes the crystal lattice to vibrate in a specific pattern, creating a thaumic harmony. As the crystal reaches its internal capacity to hold the energy, it will start emitting light, heat, and an amplified version of the original input emotional frequencies.”

“In other words,” Luna cut in, “the crystal takes in emotions from the ponies around it, amplifies them, and radiates them out?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Dr. Melody answered before the lead crystallographer could say anything. “We are making the crystals sing.”

The princess eyed her for a moment, slightly tilting her head. “How very poetic, Dr. Melody. But how do we transmit across all of Equestria?”

Dr. Melody stepped forward to the desk and put a paperclip on it. This was her chance to shine.

“As you rightly said, Your Highness, the crystal doesn’t just receive and emit. It amplifies. Imagine what would happen if we didn’t have just one crystal.”

With this, she added a hooffull of additional paperclips to the tabletop and continued.

“In a group, they would receive each other’s emissions and resonate until they achieve a unified, perfect harmony. Each crystal would need to be precisely crafted and aligned to create this cascading effect.”

As Dr. Melody was talking, she carefully arranged the paperclips in a circle.

“Given that the output energies reach a threshold magnitude, they can overwrite Equestria’s emotional background frequency in perpetuity. It will create a self-sustaining thaumic field that will blanket all of Equestria.”

The princess pointed her hoof at the arrangement of paperclips on the table.

“How many crystals would be needed to reach this threshold magnitude?”

Just as Dr. Melody started to respond, Dr. Facet loudly cleared his throat and cut in. Typical.

“Now, now, Dr. Melody. You don’t want to peddle these half-baked theories to Her Highness.”

The alicorn answered him only with an irritated glare before focusing back on Dr. Melody.

“We believe that we have asked this mare a question.”

“Well, we weren’t able to complete any experiments yet, but according to my theoretical calculations, the structures would need to be massive, Your Highness. This crystal might work alright on its own. However, in order to guarantee proper function over an indefinite amount of time, several additional types of crystals will be needed, which we haven’t designed yet. Thaumic heat sinks. Emotional batteries. These are just two examples, there are many more necessary components we currently don’t know how to build. I can provide Your Highness with a list, if required,” Dr. Melody explained.

The princess nodded. “How long will you need?”

Dr. Melody noticed beads of sweat on Dr. Facet’s forehead as he interrupted once more. “Please, Your Highness. You must understand. What Dr. Melody is proposing is not even yet a hypothesis. It’s… it’s a fantasy. We haven’t tested as much as one crystal yet to act as an amplifier in a stable configuration, let alone combining them in an interconnected arrangement. What my colleague is proposing is a complex system of different crystals, which haven’t been invented yet, working together in perfect harmony. We have no inkling if this is possible, let alone the knowledge to build it.”

“Be still!”

The princess’s hiss was magically amplified and made the whole laboratory shake.

The other members of the team were suddenly very busy looking small and fiddling with various pieces of equipment, conveniently located towards the edges of the room.

“We have asked your colleague a question,” Luna continued in a more measured tone.

Dr. Melody let her head hang and sighed.

“Dr. Facet is right, Your Highness. I believe my design is theoretically sound, but as you can see, we weren’t able to test any of the components yet. Even in isolation. As you know, these crystals are extremely finicky. If there is even a miniscule amount of feedback, or if the lattices are misconfigured in only a tiny way, the results could be catastrophic. A chaotic, instantaneous discharge of distorted emotional energy—a magical explosion, in other words. At this point, there is no telling if we can do it, let alone predict when all components will be ready.”

The princess replied in a comforting voice, “You said the next step will be to test this amplifier in isolation. When will you be able to do this?”

Dr. Melody stepped towards the crystal.

“Technically, we are ready for the test, but we are still struggling with the safety measures. The team will need to be present to precisely measure the frequencies and observe how the lattices hold up. Your Highness, there is no practical way of doing that while behind a thaumic barrier.”

Luna’s eyes glistened dangerously.

“Safety concerns aside, do you have all the necessary equipment for this experiment here in the laboratory right now?”

Crystal Melody exchanged a nervous glance with Facet.

“Yes… Your Highness,” he finally answered lamely.

“Well then, we will perform the experiment now. We will provide the necessary safety,” the princess commanded. Her tone allowed no disagreement.

Studying the room carefully, Dr. Crystal Melody saw shocked faces. She felt the tension as everypony seemed to be waiting for somepony else to make the first move. Well, she wasn’t going to tell the princess “no.”

Finally, the lead crystallographer answered, his ears pressed tightly against his head. “Yes, of course, Your Highness. Everypony, prepare for the attunement cycle.”

Apparently, neither was he.

Only very slowly, the team started to move. Equipment was prepared, goggles were put on, notes were made.
After every aspect of the setup was checked, double-checked and triple-checked, Dr. Crystal Melody looked around the room, seeing nervous but determined ponies.

Again, it was Dr. Facet who broke the silence.

“Your Highness, the preparations are complete. We will now align the final parts of the crystal’s internal structure. I must remind everyone that after this step has been completed, absolutely no magic in this room. That applies to earth ponies and pegasi too, I don’t even want to see the flick of a wing,” Dr. Facet warned, his eyes wandering to a twitchy yellow pegasus stallion, who guiltily looked at his hooves.

Princess Luna only nodded.

The command given, all ponies of Project Eternity went to work. It didn’t take much to complete the final adjustments on the crystal. Only the last step of the internal alignment hadn’t been completed, so that there could be no dangerous buildup of thaumic resonance when it reacted to the present emotional inputs. However, this last step was still critical. Any mistake here could spell disaster.

Dr. Facet’s voice dropped to a mumble. “We will now apply our collective magic to ready the crystal.”

Dr. Melody saw him glancing between the unicorns of the alignment team as he adjusted his mane with a shaky hoof. “Since there are three of us, any irregularities in our thaumic frequencies should be flattened out.”

“What do you hope will happen, once you are done with these final adjustments?” Princess Luna asked.

“Ideally, the crystal will begin to attune to our collective emotional emissions, Your Highness. Its structure will resonate until a harmonic frequency is achieved. Once the crystal is at capacity, as mentioned before, it will radiate these harmonics outwards. The crystal is fairly small and configured to a low magnitude. We should only feel a minor emotional effect,” Dr. Melody explained, trying her best to sound casual.

“Thank you, Doctor, please start the experiment,” Luna commanded with a tap of her hoof.

Dr. Facet’s horn lit up first in a soft glow. After a moment, two of his unicorn colleagues joined in. As their collective magic auras flowed around the crystal, a soft hum could be heard in the laboratory. Each of the crystallographers had sweat dripping down their muzzles, completely concentrated on the task before them.

Dr. Melody knew that the unicorns were carefully shifting and aligning microscopic pieces of crystal with each other. Looked at from a different perspective, what was only a piece of shiny rock to most ponies hosted an entire world inside. Complex crystalline pathways, interconnected with each other like the most sophisticated of rail networks. They began to sing to her.

She felt the crystal like it was a part of her. Tiny vibrations were being echoed through the structure. The repeating symmetries of the crystal lattice reinforced and relayed them. Different regions with slightly different frequencies. Talking to each other. Exchanging information. Finding harmony.

Nopony made a sound. Dr. Melody was completely entranced by the crystal. After what felt like an hour, but had only been minutes, the horns of the three crystallographers whiffed out and the magical glow ceased.

“The crystal is now internally aligned and should start reacting to our emotional auras any second.”

Dr Facet’s voice had dropped to a whisper, as if speaking too loudly could endanger the experiment. Still, it was enough to bring Dr. Melody back to reality. Dr. Facet finally stepped back from the crystal, eyeing it like it was a dangerous predator, ready to pounce on him.

“Remember, absolutely no magic from here on out. And try to think… happy thoughts,” he added encouragingly, daring a quick smile at the end. It did not look very convincing.

Dr. Melody could feel that within the crystal, the process had already begun. Vibrations bounced on the lattices. Fear. Hope. Anticipation. Pride. Shame. All these emotions and many more were fighting for dominance. Each in their own unique pattern. Slowly averaging each other out, the crystal began to vibrate in one, unified melody, which was inaudible to all but her.

Beautiful.

“The crystal is now charging up. There, can you see these multicolor lights dancing on the surface? This means that it has almost reached full capacity,” Dr. Facet continued in an awed whisper.

Everypony in the room was busy monitoring some kind of device, making notes or sketching out the visible changes in the crystal, sometimes exchanging hopeful glances with each other. Fine thermometers measured each fluctuation within the crystal’s temperature, while different kinds of spectrometers recorded any flicker of light passing over its surface.

Indeed, Dr. Melody could feel that the microscopic vibrations in the lattice structure had almost reached their maximum strength. Yet she could hear tiny imperfections. They were warping the complex network in chaotic ways. Discordant. The overall structure tried to compensate for these flaws, offloading vibrations to other areas, overstretching these in turn. The internal structure of the crystal was straining. Bending. Failing.

Dr. Facet whispered excitedly to the princess, “Your Highness, we have now reached maximum capacity. This is the most critical stage. Either we will see a stabilization and even emission, or—”

“Something is wrong!” Dr. Melody interrupted with an alarmed yelp, already dashing towards the crystal.

As if to emphasize her point, a hairline crack appeared on one of the crystal’s faces. A collective gasp went through the room.

Suddenly, geometric artifacts appeared to float in Dr. Melody’s vision. Yellow triangles. Pink circles. Altogether strange and indescribable forms seemed to leak from a reality beyond, carrying colors that were unfamiliar to pony eyes, yet were so logical once she saw them. Ghostly movements in the corners of her eyes. Hooves. Wings. Tails. Swishing by and gone forever. Soft whispers played around her ears, barely audible. Words nearly understood, but never quite. A language that was almost Equish.

Before anypony else could react, Dr. Melody had already picked up the metal cover in her hooves and slammed it on top of the crystal. In an instant, the strange effects vanished.

Everypony froze. Princess Luna took up a position in front of the experiment, spreading out her wings protectively. The scientists took cover behind her tall body.

For several tense minutes, nopony did anything. The only sound was the high-pitched whine of magic and the low hum of the crystal as the emitted emotional energy was absorbed by the protective casing.

Finally, the sounds ceased. Luna exhaled slowly, her stance relaxing almost imperceptibly. She walked up to the experiment and carefully removed the protective cover with her hooves. It revealed a dull, smoky crystal underneath. Silent. Dead.

A cheer went up from the team, but Luna’s expression remained grave.

“Was this experiment not a failure?” she asked with a disappointed huff, poking the dead crystal with her hoof.

Dr. Melody saw Facet take a few calming breaths, then he faced the princess again.

“Failure, Your Highness? While I would not dare to disagree with—” he started, but Dr. Melody decided to have pity on him.

“Your Highness, with these measurements, we can refine our method. I assume some of the structural alignment failed, but it did not detonate. This is a significant step forward for our research. A success,” she said confidently.

The princess furrowed her brows but did not reply.

As it became clear that the crystal was not a threat anymore, everypony else rushed to their respective stations and started fiddling with various instruments.

“We have a thaumic resonance within ten percent of the expected band!” one assistant shouted across the room.

“Look at these light signatures! Amazing, simply amazing!” another pony yelled.

“Does anypony have readings on the thermal fluctuations?” yet another scientist asked, waving a stack of papers through the air with his wings.

“Sweet Celestia—” one assistant started, completely focused on a small device in front of him, but immediately stopped, as he noticed the angry glares from the ponies around him.

“I mean… uhm… sweet… Luna…? Sorry…” he tried, a deep crimson hue entering his cheeks.

Stealing a quick glance, Dr. Melody only noted a barely perceivable twitch of Luna’s left eyebrow. The rest of her body gave no visible reaction.

The princess waited while the team discussed preliminary results, exchanged measurements and compared calculations. The ponies around her were like honeybees in a hive that had been disturbed. Buzzing around Luna in excitement, the princess was the singular fixed point in the team’s galaxy. Patient. Perfectly still.

Once the excitement had visibly died down and more and more heads turned towards her again, she nodded kindly.

“Thank you for your great efforts, everypony. Your contributions to Equestria are already monumental. Now, would you please give the room to Dr. Crystal Melody and ourselves?” Luna asked in a friendly tone, which however had some steel underneath.

Dr. Facet raised a hesitant hoof.

“Your Highness, as the lead crystallographer, I—“

A glare from the princess cut him off.

Muttering and whispering amongst themselves, the scientists picked up papers, suitcases and small instruments. Dr. Melody saw relief in their faces as they headed for the exit, Dr. Facet among them. She felt bad for him, seeing him slink out of the lab with his tail between his legs. It was his work too, after all.

Once they were alone in the laboratory, Luna asked, not turning her head away from the crystal, “What is it about you? What is it that you can see that they cannot?”

Dr. Melody took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Memories of times long past rushed through her mind.

“Ever since I was a filly. I could hear them. I could hear the crystals sing, Your Highness.”

Dr. Melody pointed at her cutie mark. It was a crystalline quarter note.

“I can hear when they are in harmony. Healthy. But also, when they are deficient and struggling. In pain. By all rights, ponies should not be able to perceive these frequencies in such a way, but some of us do.”

“Fascinating. Dr. Melody, we recognize your special talent, but also your ability to see the big picture. Your ambition to create something incredible. Please, share with us your opinion on where we stand with our efforts and what your outlook on Project Eternity is. We trust that you will neither embellish nor downplay the facts,” Luna requested.

“Your Highness, today has been a great success. I believe that with these results, we will be able to construct the first crystal to act as a stable emotional receiver, amplifier and emitter within three months,” Dr. Melody answered.

“What will that mean for the project in general? Please, do drop the formalities, we are utterly bored of them.”

“I can see no reason why our venture should be impossible. The theoretical foundations are sound. Once we have created all the necessary components, we can start testing them in symphony. I believe Project Eternity can succeed,” Dr. Melody replied.

After so many years in the background, this could be her breakthrough. Dr. Melody felt pride and ambition flare up inside her. Seeing Princess Luna’s smirk, she knew that these emotions were not hidden to the alicorn. The princess wasted no time pouring water on that particular fire.

“Things are not quite as optimistic as you think. You only have but a shadow of our knowledge. Right now, ponykind is galloping towards certain destruction.”

Dr. Melody’s pride was quickly washed away by a familiar fear. She knew that Project Eternity was a very drastic measure, but were things really this bad?

“When ponies arrived in these lands, you were prey to the griffons and dragons. You were subjects to the creatures and nature that surrounded you. Look at you now. You have tamed the land. The warlike species pride themselves on strength on ferocity, yet they barely dare put a hoof or claw in Equestria.”

“Surely that is because of the protection of you and your sister, Princess,” Dr. Melody responded in a respectful tone.

“For now, yes. Yet we are anticipating something you don’t see. While other empires rise and fall, shortly flare up and crumble to ashes, you ponies continue to thrive. You stubbornly develop. The progress of science and technology in Equestria is accelerating. Do you understand our conclusion?” the princess asked.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place all at once.

“Yes, I do. If the current trends hold, before long, our neighbors will be at our complete mercy. Our development will outpace them by magnitudes.”

Dr. Melody could not suppress a frown settling on her muzzle.

“But why is that a problem? Ponies are creatures of peace and harmony. We would never hurt our neighbors!”

In a heartbeat, Luna’s eyes snapped wide open. With a manic grin, she lunged towards Dr. Melody. Without thinking, Crystal Melody took a few hasty steps back. Her rear bumped into some laboratory equipment, which would have fallen over had the princess not quickly caught it in her magic.

“Wouldn’t you?” Luna hissed, that grin still on her face. “You retain your ancient instincts still. You forget that ponies are also creatures of fear, creatures of flight. If another race is stupid enough to scare you? To really scare you? There’s no telling what you will do.”

Melody’s thoughts swam through her head like jelly. She could only muster a confused glare.

Mercifully, the princess took a step back. That grin vanished and she resumed a cold, stately posture as she continued. “Your ability to harness magical and mundane energy will increase exponentially. With time, your technology will be at a most terrifying level. That day is far away, but trust me, little pony. It will come.”

Released from the princess’s stare, Melody’s mind resumed its regular function. The world around her suddenly seemed exceptionally grim.

“And at that point, a single mistake could warp reality to such a degree that we may not be able to repair it. With so much power, one slip-up would be enough. Time magic, global weather control, manipulations of nature...” she said.

“Precisely so,” the princess agreed sombrely. “Playing with forces such as these, the world tends not to forgive.”

“But surely, you and your sister are able to stop this!” Dr. Melody protested.

“What do you think we are doing right now, Dr. Melody?” the princess replied with a slight smile.

“Project Eternity. You want to use it to mellow out the worst instincts of ponykind, right? Its purpose is to keep us in check, keep us from destroying anyone else and ourselves?” Dr. Melody was looking at her hooves intently, her eyes twitching uncontrollably. “But… over a long enough time horizon… even if we can make it work… it will be almost useless.”

Princess Luna closed her eyes for a moment. The smile vanished from her muzzle and she took a deep breath.

“What we must do also is contain the progress of technology in Equestria,” she stated calmly.

Dr. Melody’s breath caught in her lungs. Her heart and mind raced. Of course. This was the logical conclusion.

“Y-you are going to prohibit science?” Dr. Melody stammered. She just so managed to press out the words.

The princess put a hoof on her shoulder. The touch felt alien, yet strangely comforting.

“No, no. Nothing so crude. Our rule is one of consent, and prohibitions are such a forceful and brittle thing. To effectively contain ponykind’s technological development and disarm it across such an impossibly long amount of time, they are worthless.”

The alicorn tapped her hoof for emphasis and went on.

“What we must do is create an environment in which science cannot succeed. Using our present knowledge, we need to create an illusory world of ghosts and shadows, of wonders and miracles. A world that seemingly cannot be explained by reason and science. That means, among many other measures, once Project Eternity is completed, we need to cleanse all knowledge of it.”

The princess concluded with finality. “History will not remember you, Dr. Melody. However, maybe you will be able to save history.”

Dr. Melody’s eyes darted from left to right. Where was the exit again?

“Does… does Princess Celestia approve of this plan?”

The princess’s eye started to twitch. Her dark fur seemed to absorb the cold, artificial light. Melody took a slow step back from the alicorn and glanced towards the door.

Luna’s face snapped towards her.

“The firstborn”—the princess almost spit the second word—“is well aware of our efforts. She may not wholly agree with our methods, but her support for this project is unshaken.”

Just as suddenly as it had come, Princess Luna seemed to snap out of her irritation. She took a few deep breaths. Dr. Melody was stunned at this moment. For just a second, the princess had vanished and a regular pony had taken her place. As Luna visibly relaxed, so did she.

“Tell me one more thing, little pony,” Princess Luna continued in a calmer tone. “Would it be possible to build Project Eternity in such a way that it is not only able to receive, amplify and transmit emotional energies, but also magical energies? Could it be built to be a spell amplifier?”

For a few seconds, the two ponies, blue and gray, princess and scientist, studied each other. A renewed shock rose up in Dr. Melody. Still, there was something else as well. Such a magnificent challenge. Such an awesome device. She broke the silence first.

“Well… hypothetically… thaumic and emotional frequencies are remarkably similar. This is the same reason why we cannot safely use magic around an aligned crystal. It stands to reason that the system could be constructed to be dual in use, yes. But why would that be necessary? Who would have the will and the power to transmit a spell across all of Equestria?”

“Think of it as an insurance policy, should the other plan fail,” Luna whispered. Dr. Melody barely caught the words, but something in the alicorn’s voice made a chill run down her spine.

“Why are you discussing these details with me? Surely this plan works better the fewer ponies know about it,” Dr. Melody challenged.

“It is often wise to discuss ideas with clever ponies you trust. And I do trust you, Crystal Melody. After all, I have seen your dreams.”

Author's Note

Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

You'll read this a lot in the oncoming chapters, but super special thanks to mellon for editing & proofreading. This story wouldn't be what it is without them.

I'm looking for additional proofreaders. If you are interested, feel free to hit me up.

Some credit goes to iisaw for inspiring the way crystal interact with magic and music. Go read their stories if you haven't, they are great.

Chapter 3: Storm Riders

Burnt Brick snapped awake.

He yelped. “What happened? It wasn’t me!”

“Dear, it seems you had an unfortunate stumble,” Lady Martha answered, not looking at him.

“Did that stumble happen to include me falling face first into Hammerhead’s right hoof?” Brick grumbled.

His jaw ached, and the taste of copper lingered in his mouth. For a moment, the events leading up to the punch felt hazy—then reality crashed back. Right. He’d pushed too far. Way too far.

Brick caught Hammerhead’s eye across the chart room. The captain’s expression was unreadable, but the subtle nod he gave seemed to say ‘later.’ Fair enough.

Standing up with as much dignity as he could muster, Brick turned his attention back to their immediate crisis. Personal grievances would have to wait—they still had a ship to save.

As the throb in Brick’s head receded, the sounds of the Audacity enveloped him.

The ship’s frame creaked and groaned, straining against the high-altitude winds. It was a sound that reminded him of old buildings—structures pushed to their limits by time and the elements. Each vibration sent a jolt of pain through him.

Beneath the ship’s protests, there was another sound—a deep rumble that he felt more than heard. It was the storm below them, its fury muffled by distance, but still palpable. Occasional booms of thunder, loud enough to penetrate the Audacity’s hull, punctuated the constant rumble.

“What’s our status?”

Lady Martha answered first.

“We have leveled out at altitude. Strong gusts are still hitting us, but nothing catastrophic.”

“Good. What does the time say?”

Clear Melody answered that one.

“We are twenty minutes into the storm.”

“I see. Everything ready for operation ‘Melody-vents-the-gas-and-doesn’t-conk-out?’”

“Ready when you are,” Melody said.

Her winter gear—a complex arrangement of insulated fabric and straps that made her look more like a carefully wrapped package than a pegasus—concealed any facial expression. However, she was planted firmly on the deck and her voice didn’t waver. She was ready for this.

Right?

“Martha, I want you to double check Melody’s gear, especially those wing covers. I want no exposed fur anywhere.”

The aeronaut’s wing covers were an ingenious piece of technology. They protected against cold and all kinds of environmental hazards. A pegasus couldn’t fly while wearing them, but they could still use their wings for stabilization.

“Aye, Captain, checking everything again.”

Brick nodded. “Melody, I want you to go over the plan one more time, every detail.”

Before she could say anything, he turned to Hammerhead.

“Hammerhoof, I want you to go look for your sense of humor. Gotta be around here somewhere.

“What are we waiting for? Go!”

Lady Martha fussed over Melody’s gear with maternal precision, tugging at straps and adjusting seals. Hammerhead didn’t move an inch. Meanwhile, the young pegasus began reciting the plan.

“We will use the passageway as an airlock.”

She took a long breath.

“Once I’m outside, it’s only three strides to the helm. I will angle my wings so that I won’t get blown away. I will find the lift gas controls and vent exactly nine percent of our gas.”

Another long breath, just a bit sharper this time.

“I will make it back to the passageway and close the door as well as I can. Then, I will knock on this door. You will let me in. If you don’t hear a knock in five minutes, Captain Hammerhead will get me.”

With a final pat to Melody’s goggles and a reassuring smile, Martha finished her checks. Brick’s eyes darted to the clock. No more delays.

“Alright, ladies, it’s time.”

He broke the insulation of the door. This was it. This was his final chance to stop her. Brick wondered at which point he’d do exactly that. He watched himself pulling the door open. Watched himself patting Clear Melody on the back. Watched her trot to the door. Surely, now would be the time to do it.

Yet he didn’t.

Brick saw Melody take one last look at the team before she stepped into the passageway. Seeing the door close filled his heart with pain. He wouldn’t lose her too. He couldn’t. It would be fine.

Brick knew Melody was about to open the hatch they had installed on the outer door to let the air escape. Otherwise, it would've been impossible for her to pull open that door.

The wood groaned anew as the air pressure equalized—Clear Melody had opened the hatch. The sound sent a chill through the chart room that had nothing to do with the temperature.

None of them spoke. Brick’s eyes were locked on the clock’s lazy sweep, each tick an eternity.

One minute. The anxiety made his legs feel wobbly.

Two minutes. Burnt Brick’s heart hammered against his ribs.

Three minutes and thirty-four seconds—the airship lurched forward with a shudder. She’d reached the controls. The gas was venting.

Four minutes. She should be heading back now. Brick’s hooves itched to move.

Four minutes and twenty seconds. The outer door should be sealed. Where was the sound?

Four minutes and forty seconds. Any moment now. The knock had to come. Had to.

Five minutes. Nothing but the hollow whisper of wind.

Brick’s body moved before his mind could catch up. Together with Martha and Hammerhead, he ripped open the door. In a flash, Hammerhead had launched himself into the gangway. Brick had prayed they wouldn’t need to do this.

The air in the chart room was sucked outside with a deafening roar and the door smashed shut. He could already feel that the air was getting colder. Colder and thinner.

Nothing he could do about it. Except wait. Wait, again.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. Use as little oxygen as possible. Slow breaths. No thoughts.

Don’t think about Melody fighting for her life outside. Don’t think about her gasping for air that wouldn’t give her oxygen. Don’t think about that burning building. Don’t think about Sketch…

The door to the chart room exploded inwards.

Hammerhead stumbled inside, Clear Melody on his back.

The escaping air made the door snap shut behind them. Brick and Martha feverishly started to reapply the insulation to save whatever air they still had left.

Brick caught glimpses of Hammerhead in his peripheral view. The captain’s movements were uncharacteristically gentle as he laid Clear Melody onto the deck, his usual roughness giving way to something almost tender. The moment she was safely down, his own strength failed him. The mighty pegasus crumpled beside her like a puppet with cut strings.

A shrill whistling sound yanked Brick’s attention back to the door. Somewhere, air was escaping. He exchanged a glance with Martha. No need for words. They couldn’t fix it. He knew it. She knew it.

A race, then. The Audacity’s descent speed against their depleting oxygen.

Burnt Brick stumbled towards Clear Melody’s still form. The edges of his vision were already creeping in, but he had to reach her. Had to protect her. She looked so small, curled up there.

“Quick Sketch?” The words came out slurred. Why was Quick Sketch sleeping on the job? She never slept on the job. And why was it so chilly in the office?

He moved in closer, trying to shield her from the biting cold with his own body. Something wasn’t right. The mane was wrong. Not Quick Sketch’s mane. But who...?

And who was that blue pony beside her? He looked so dumb.

“'S okay,” he mumbled, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. “Got you this time. Not gonna... not gonna let them...”

The pony before him was breathing—quick, shallow breaths. That was important. Why was it important? He couldn’t remember. Everything was getting so fuzzy.

Melody. That was her name. No. Quick Sketch? Both? His brain felt like cotton wool.

“Not losing...” The rest of the sentence dissolved into the darkness as consciousness slipped away.

“Please tell me I’m dead,” Burnt Brick groaned, keeping his eyes closed.

“It worked, Mr. Brick! We flew over the storm!” Melody chirped.

That sound was like balm on his soul.

Finally opening his eyes, Brick surveyed the scene. The room looked like a storm had swept through it.

Probably because that’s exactly what had happened.

Hammerhead and Melody had already started to clean up the mess. Damned pegasus lungs. Lady Martha was still laying on the deck, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“That’s great, kid. Proud of ya. What’s the situation?”

Her head dropped. Melody’s toe scratched the deck and she blushed slightly.

“I might’ve vented just a teeny tiny bit too much of the lift gas.”

Before Brick could react, Hammerhead cut in.

“Nothing she could’ve done. Damn gas controls got stuck. Rain froze in there.” The captain pointed at her. “Poor girl ran out of air just after she got the controls working again. Good thing too, otherwise we would’ve lost all the gas.”

An image flashed through Brick’s mind: the Audacity plummeting from the sky, her balloon empty, crystal-studded hull shattering against the ground like a dropped mirror. He shook his head sharply. They had enough real problems.

“How much gas do we have left?”

Clear Melody dropped her head even lower.

“I’ve made some quick calculations. Even if we drop all the ballast, we won’t be able to clear the Crystal Mountains.”

Suddenly, Martha spoke up from behind him. She sounded tired, but he could hear that she was smiling at the same time.

“We might not need to. There’s a passage. A gap in the Crystal Mountains that we can pass through.”

Brick scratched his chin. “But that’s not the path set by the navigational spells.”

As soon as he said it, Hammerhead and Melody exchanged a glance. He didn’t like that glance. Not one bit.

“Actually…” Melody started.

“The storm knocked us out of our navigational lock. We have no idea where we are,” Hammerhead finished for her.

Right.

“Lady Martha, I know you have talents in navigation. Could you be so kind and please try to figure out where the fuck we are?”

“So polite, yet so rude.” She clicked her tongue, tilting her head to the side. “Aye, Captain. But until the stars show themselves, the best a lady can do is ‘North.’”

“‘North’ should be good enough for now. Do you think you can find the passage with the help of the stars?”

“I’m not certain, my dear. But do we have another choice than to try?”

“Guess not.”

“Well then, I suppose I likewise have no other choice than to find it. Do I?”

“Guess not. Any other looming catastrophe I should know about?”

Brick had said it as a joke, but there was that glance between Hammerhead and Melody again. That cursed glance that seemed to ask, ‘Are you going to tell him, or should I?’

Apparently, it was Melody’s turn. She scratched off the last bit of polish that remained on the abused boards below her.

“You remember those overflow batteries we activated to stabilize the crystals?”

“Yeah…?”

“You remember when I said that if we activate them without the rest of the system, they might break?”

“Yeah…”

“They broke.”

The bulkhead protested as Brick smashed his head against it.

Why. Smash. Must. Smash. Everything. Smash. Always. Smash. Break.

It helped, if only just a little. Brick gathered himself.

“Sorry folks. Needed to quickly test the structural integrity of the hull after the storm. Everything seems in order.” He ran a hoof over his mane. “Any chance we can repair them or do without?”

Melody smiled at him. That damned smile.

“I’m not sure about repairing them, but we had spares anyway. The system might be slightly less stable, but I made sure not to activate more than we could afford to lose.”

Her eyes darted away. “We just need to make sure not to break any more of them.”

The last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and pink as the Audacity glided smoothly through the evening air. The storm that had nearly claimed their lives was now nothing more than a distant, dark smudge on the horizon. On the deck, the crew gathered around a makeshift table. The gentle creaking of the ship’s frame was a soothing counterpoint to the earlier chaos.

Burnt Brick surveyed his team as they settled in for their meal. Clear Melody’s mane was still windswept. Lady Martha’s usually immaculate coat bore smudges of grease and dirt. Only Hammerhead’s stoic demeanor seemed unchanged.

Brick pointed first at Hammerhead and then at the bowl of oats before him.

“Damn, my oversized friend. Your food,” he said while chewing heartily. “It really sucks. Seriously. How do you screw up oats?”

After a few seconds, the whole team laughed. Well, Martha, Melody and Brick laughed. Hammerhead emitted a grunt that could’ve been interpreted in a lot of ways, really. Brick chose to interpret it as a laugh.

“Well,” Brick said, raising a tin mug filled with hot cider, “I’d say we've earned this.”

The others raised their mugs in agreement, the clink of metal on metal a cheerful sound in the crisp air.

Melody took a long sip before speaking. “I... I want to thank you all. For trusting me out there. And for coming to get me.”

Martha reached out, placing a hoof gently on Melody’s shoulder. “You were incredibly brave, dear. You risked your life. We couldn’t have made it without you.”

Hammerhead grunted again. “Kid’s got guts,” he admitted.

Brick wondered if that was the first compliment he’d ever heard from the veteran.

As evening turned into a cloudless night, stars began to glimmer in the darkening sky. Though exhaustion tugged at his limbs and his jaw still throbbed, Burnt Brick knew sleep would have to wait. They needed those stars—without them, they were flying blind.

Lady Martha had turned the chart room back to its intended use. Maps and star charts covered every surface, held down by whatever they could find. Her usually immaculate mane was disheveled as she darted between the room and the bridge outside, muttering calculations under her breath.

“Miss Melody, dear, I require your assistance,” Martha called out. “Find me Polaris, then trace the path to Cassiopeia.”

The young pegasus hovered over the bridge, her white coat almost luminescent against the night sky. “There!” she pointed with a wing. “And Cassiopeia is... wait, yes! Just above the horizon.”

Hammerhead stood at the helm, making minute adjustments based on Martha’s commands. His gaze seemed to pierce the darkness as he kept the Audacity steady.

“Three degrees port,” Martha instructed, her cultured voice clipped with concentration. “Now hold her there.”

Burnt Brick served as a living compass, trotting between port and starboard to confirm their bearing. His construction experience with alignment and angles had found an unexpected use.

“That cluster there,” Martha muttered, jabbing her hoof at a particular configuration on her chart. “If we are where I think we are...” Her eyes darted between sky and parchment.

“Got something?” Brick asked, trying to mask his concern with casual interest.

“Maybe.” Martha tapped her chin. “The stars suggest we’re about forty leagues northeast of where we should be. The storm threw us further off course than I feared.” She paused, then added with a slight smile, “But if I’m right, that actually works in our favor.”

“How so?” Hammerhead’s gruff voice carried from the helm.

“Because”—Martha’s smile widened—“we’re now perfectly positioned to catch the Galloping Current—an air current that flows right through the widest mountain pass in the entire range.”

Brick tilted his head. “Convenient. You’re sure about this?”

“My dear, I’ve spent many hours studying and traversing these routes. The pass is there—we just need to find it before dawn.”

“And if we don’t?”

Martha’s smile didn’t waver, but her expression hardened. “Then we find another way to get through those mountains.”

The next few hours passed in a tired blur of calculations and course corrections. Brick’s joints ached from trotting between observation points. Even Hammerhead’s steel composure showed signs of wear. Martha actually seemed energized by the challenge, but the occasional tremor in her voice betrayed her exhaustion.

Finally, she stepped back from her charts with a satisfied nod. “There. We’re locked into the approach.” She traced a line across the largest wall map with her hoof. “That should keep us on course until dawn,” she concluded, marking their trajectory with decisive strokes.

“Just keep the North Star over the port bow at this angle.” She stifled a yawn. “Simple enough that even you two can’t mess it up.”

“Get some rest,” Brick told her. “You’ll need your wits about you for that pass tomorrow.”

His eyes drifted to Clear Melody, who was barely keeping her head up. “You too, kid. You’ve earned it twice over.”

Melody started to protest, but a yawn cut her off. “I suppose... if you’re sure...”

“We’ve got this,” Brick assured her. “Go on.”

After the mare and jenny had left, silence settled over the bridge, broken only by the noises of wind and wood. Brick found himself studying the stars, deliberately avoiding looking at Hammerhead. The tension between them felt as solid as the deck they were standing on.

Finally, Hammerhead spoke, his voice low and measured. “About earlier—”

“You knocked me out cold,” Brick stated flatly.

“You insulted the princesses. You hurt Miss Melody.”

That second one stung. Ignore and suppress.

“I insulted everyone.” Brick’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “It’s kind of my thing.”

The captain shook his head. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

“No.” Brick sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Look, I get it. You're loyal to them. That’s your thing. But where I’m standing? They’re just another pair of powerful ponies who...” He caught himself, noting the dangerous glint in Hammerhead’s eye. “Who I have some strong opinions about.”

Hammerhead was quiet for a long moment. “Your partner. What happened?”

“Thought that was all in my file.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Brick turned to face the captain fully. “You really want to know? Fine. Quick Sketch and me were expanding our business. Fast. Lots of old money in construction.” His voice hardened. “Next thing I know, there was a ‘construction flaw’ in one of our projects. Burned down while she was inside. Very convenient. Very clean. Case closed.”

“And you think the Guard—”

“I think a lot of things,” Brick said. “But mostly, I think we’ve got bigger problems right now than my trust issues or your patriotism.”

Another long silence. Then, surprisingly, Hammerhead chuckled. “Suppose you’re right about that.”

Brick raised an eyebrow. “Was that... was that actually a laugh?”

“Don’t get used to it.” Hammerhead adjusted their course slightly. “But listen—you keep those thoughts to yourself, and I’ll try not to knock you out again.”

“Even if I really deserve it?”

“Even then.” A pause. “Probably.”

Brick found himself grinning despite everything. “Deal.” He glanced at the stars. “Though I have to say, your princess did a nice job with the night sky. Really ties the whole ‘flying blindly towards certain death’ thing together.”

Hammerhead grunted.

The hours crawled by with excruciating slowness. Each minute felt like an eternity as Burnt Brick strained against the darkness, searching for any sign of the Crystal Mountains. Luna’s stars had been their guides through the night, but now they needed Celestia’s light more than ever.

“Timing’s going to be tight,” he muttered, more to keep himself awake than anything else.

Hammerhead nodded. “Melody’s calculations put sunrise just before we reach the mountains. Cutting it close to not waste time.”

“And if we’re off course we’ll see the solid wall of rock with just enough time to turn around and pray.”

The pre-dawn darkness played tricks on them. Every dark spot could be a mountain peak, every black patch of sky a valley. Brick found himself holding his breath at nothing more than cloud formations. He noticed Hammerhead’s grip on the helm growing tighter with each passing shadow.

Almost imperceptibly, the eastern sky began to lighten. First just a hint, a mere suggestion of color on the horizon. Then, a smidge of pale blue, pushing back the night’s deep indigo. Brick’s heart hammered as the light grew stronger.

When the first direct rays of sunlight crested the horizon, the world transformed. The Crystal Mountains erupted into brilliance, their surfaces catching and splitting the light into thousands of rainbow fragments. The effect was dazzling, almost blinding. And there, right where Martha’s calculations had promised, a deep cleft split the mountain range.

“Sweet Celestia’s morning tea,” Brick breathed.

“Language,” Hammerhead admonished, but his voice held the same awe.

At that moment, all the stress, pain and exhaustion of the last day fell off. It was just them, the mountains and that passage. That beautiful passage, inviting them to venture beyond.

Brick found himself caught up in a bone-crushing hug. He wasn’t sure who had initiated it, but Hammerhead’s wings wrapped around them both in celebration. It lasted approximately two seconds before they sprang apart.

Hammerhead was suddenly very interested in adjusting their heading while Brick developed an intense fascination with a random spot on the deck.

“I should, uh, probably wake Martha,” Brick suggested.

“Good idea.”

He found her curled up in her bunk, looking far more dignified in sleep than anyone had a right to. She was alert almost instantly at Brick’s touch.

“We found it?” she asked, already moving towards the bridge where Hammerhead was still steering the ship.

“It’s right where you said it would be,” Brick confirmed. “Though I’ve got to say, it looks... narrow.”

Martha’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, it’s narrow alright. And the wind currents through there will be absolutely dreadful.” She took the helm from Hammerhead. “You boys should get some rest. This next part... well, let’s just say you don’t want to be awake for it if you don’t have to be.”

With a grin, she added, “And your helmsjenny says you don’t.”

Brick opened his mouth to protest, but a massive yawn undercut any argument he might have made. Now that he had done his part, exhaustion hit him like a charging buffalo.

As he made his way to his bunk, the last thing he heard was Martha’s voice, humming an old sailing shanty as she guided their ship towards the passage. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they had to do without him until he’d had at least a few hours of sleep.

Author's Note

Special thanks to mellon for editing and proofreading

Chapter 4: Threading the Needle

A violent shudder ran through the Audacity, jolting Burnt Brick from his sleep. The sound of crystal scraping against rock set his teeth on edge.

His eyes snapped open. Should he be concerned about that?

Probably.

From somewhere above, muffled voices filtered down. He couldn’t make out the words, but he recognized Lady Martha’s accent taking on a distinctly unladylike tone. Clear Melody’s higher pitch followed, though whatever she said was lost to the grinding sounds.

Burnt Brick considered his options. He could go up there, see what was happening, maybe help. Or...

He rolled over and pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

Whatever it was, they’d either handle it or they wouldn’t. Either way, he’d find out when he woke up again.

If he woke up again.

Sleep reclaimed him before the echoes of the scraping had fully faded.

Author's Note

As always, thank you to mellon for editing and proofreading

Chapter 1: The Team

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 2: Full Speed Ahead

Burnt Brick glanced to the ornate clock on the seminar room wall as it chimed midnight. Its soft tones were barely audible over the laughter and animated conversation. A few empty cider bottles littered the desk, evidence of the hours that had passed since the formal meeting concluded. The atmosphere had shifted from tense introductions to something almost companionable, aided by the measured application of Equestria's finest apple brew.

Captain Hammerhead leaned back in his chair. His typically stern demeanor was softened by the late hour and perhaps the cider. “Alright, you lot,” he announced. “One last order of business before we call it a night.”

Burnt Brick, sprawled across two chairs with his hooves propped up on the desk, raised an eyebrow. “What’s that, Cap? Gonna make us run laps around the campus?”

Lady Martha tittered, the pearls around her neck clinking softly as she shook her head. "Oh, Mr. Brick, speak for yourself. Some of us aren’t built for such activities."

Clear Melody bounced slightly in her seat. “Oh, is it a team-building exercise? I love those!”

Hammerhead chuckled. The sound seemed to surprise even him. “Not quite, Miss Melody. We’ve discussed the plan. Now I need to make sure you all understand how much risk we’re taking here.”

Chairs creaked as Burnt Brick shifted his weight to sit up.

“Captain, Captain, pick me! I got something for this!”

Hammerhead put his hoof to his forehead.

“Yes, Mr. Brick?”

“Back in my good old construction days, we used to play this game for each project. It’s a tradition.”

Not waiting for an answer, Burnt Brick stood up and walked up to the chalkboard. Two and a half pairs of eyes were focused on him.

“Here are the rules. We take turns coming up with threats to our project. The bigger, the badder, the better.” He tapped the desk for emphasis. “If we can’t find a way to mitigate your threat? You win. Got it?”

Lady Martha cleared her throat.

“A touch morbid, don’t you think, Mr. Brick? But I can see why it has become a tradition. By imagining the worst, we might just prevent it. Plus, we learn how the others think and how they approach problem-solving. So. Let’s play.”

The two pegasi hesitated and looked at each other. After a moment, they turned to him again and nodded in unison.

Burnt Brick pointed at Captain Hammerhead. “Hammy, you’re up. What’s gonna kill us out there?”

“Don’t call me that. Ever.” Hammerhead pressed his lips into a thin line. Still, he went on.

“The cold,” he said. “It’s not just discomfort. It’s a predator, always waiting. It’ll freeze our water, our supplies. Us.” His gaze swept the room.

“I’ve seen strong stallions reduced to shivering wrecks, unable to think, unable to move. It’s a silent killer, and it never rests.”

“Great start. Okay, team, how do we handle the cold?” Burnt Brick picked up a piece of chalk and drew a crude snowflake onto the chalkboard while he was talking.

Lady Martha and Clear Melody exchanged a musing look before Martha signaled to Burnt Brick.

“In our previous expeditions to Yakyakistan, we made sure to always have two independent heat sources available.” Martha put two empty cider cups on the table in front of her.

“It’s quite simple,” she continued. She nudged a cup with her hoof. “An ordinary heat source—coal, in our case.” She tapped the other cup. “And a secondary one. If one of them fails, we’re not left freezing.”

She paused, a sly smile crossing her muzzle. “And here’s a little trick: we’ll use the airship’s lift gas as secondary fuel instead of a thaumic heat source. Can’t have magic near those finicky crystals, after all.”

Burnt Brick whistled. “Somejenny’s done her homework.”

Lady Martha’s smile faltered. A shadow crossed her face. “It’s a becoming quality to be prepared,” she began with her typical poise, but then her voice grew distant. “We learned that lesson the hard way, my dears.”

She swallowed hard. “It was during an expedition north. When our magical heat source failed, the cold... it crept in slowly at first. Like death on velvet hooves.

“We huddled together in the dark, six of us, listening to each other’s breathing grow slower and slower. Praying to Celestia that the gas would last until dawn.”

Clear Melody’s wings drew tight against her sides as she studied the floor with sudden fascination. Hammerhead’s chair creaked under his shifting weight, the sound unnaturally loud in the silent room.

Lady Martha turned to examine a blank patch of wall. Her outward calmness was betrayed by the stiff set of her shoulders. The ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder with each passing second.

Brick watched them all. He lifted the chalk with exaggerated care, as if handling explosives. Then, with the dramatic flair of a conductor about to start an orchestra, he dragged it across the chalkboard’s surface. The chalk screamed against the slate like a cat in a thunderstorm. Melody winced; ears flattened against her head. The captain’s face snapped towards the source of the noise.

“Great job, Lady Martha. You’re up. Hit us.”

Martha collected herself. She resumed an amused, slightly mocking expression and spoke with a clear voice.

“Picture this: we’ve finally reached our destination, braving blizzards and treacherous ice. We begin to set up our base camp, but as we do, we realize we’ve disturbed an ancient yak burial ground. Our yak workers refuse to continue, citing cultural taboos. We’re left without their support.”

Burnt Brick nodded. He sketched something on the chalkboard that bore only a vague resemblance to a yak. Still, he was proud of it.

“Yaks refusing to work,” Burnt Brick said. “What does our deal with them look like anyway? We paying them or what?”

The captain answered.

“It’s complicated. These yaks owe Princess Luna a debt. An old one.” He scratched his chin. “This project is their chance to wipe the slate clean and rid themselves of it.”

Clear Melody’s ears pricked up and her wings flopped open.

“Our Princess Luna visited the yaks? What did she do? Did she help them with a friendship problem? Did she help them with dream magic?” The words came out of her so fast that Burnt Brick had trouble keeping up.

“Not exactly. I don’t know the details myself. From what I understand, this debt has great significance to our shaggy friends in the north,” the captain replied.

“I concur. From our experience, yaks take their debts very seriously. I’m certain they will honor it,” Lady Martha said.

This was good. Burnt Brick could feel the team getting into a rhythm.

“Alright,” he said with a mischievous grin. He drew a wiggly clock-face on the chalkboard. “I’ll pick time.”

Clear Melody pushed back her chair and stood up.

“Time? Let me make sure I understand our options,” she said. “Plan A is simple—we finish the project this summer and catch our scheduled pickup when the airships can still fly north.”

She glanced at the others for confirmation before continuing. “And if we need more time, Plan B is to skip the pickup. The project’s heat output would keep us warm through winter. We’d just need to stretch our supplies and grow some food until next summer’s airships arrive. That’s feasible, right?”

Brick saw the captain and the jenny exchange concerned looks. Martha spoke carefully.

“That’s correct, but there’s a risk we’re not addressing. What happens if we decline the pickup, but then can’t get the project running before winter sets in?”

“But why would we make that choice?” Clear Melody's voice rose slightly. “If we’re so far behind schedule, we’d just take the pickup and try again next year. And anyway, our timeline has plenty of padding.”

Burnt Brick chuckled darkly. “On paper, sure.” He scuffed a hoof on the floor. “But out there, in that frozen wasteland? Celestia’s sun, anything could throw us off track.”

Also, do you really think we’d get another chance next year if we fuck this up?

He saw defiance in Melody. Good. The filly had some fight in her.

“In that case, maybe the yaks can get us out?”

Hammerhead breathed out noisily through his nostrils.

“Trekking through the Frozen North in autumn? Yeah, yaks can probably do that. But us ponies? We wouldn’t last a week.”

“What… what about the princesses? They can get us out! You said you’ll be in contact with Princess Luna,” Clear Melody challenged him.

“I’ve asked Her Highness the same question. Unfortunately, there are things even she can’t do. She might be able to get there in time, but getting all of us out?” The captain shook his head.

Brick watched Melody as the implications sank in. For once, her smile faltered. Burnt Brick even noticed a slight tremble in her lower lip. A sudden pang of guilt took him by surprise.

“I understand,” was the only thing she said in response.

The mood in the room had shifted. Everypony was looking at the ceiling, the floor or the walls. Burnt Brick was the one to break the silence.

“Time. Bummer. We’ll just have to not be slow. How hard can that be?”

He threw a piece of chalk at Clear Melody. It missed, but still snapped her out of it.

“Kid, you’re up. What else is gonna do us in?”

She looked at him for a moment before answering with just a single word.

“Me.”

“You…? Say what?”

Clear Melody’s wings drooped. “It’s... it’s the crystals,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re bringing them almost ready, but inert. I’ll have to activate them.” She swallowed hard. “But they’re so delicate. One wrong move and...” She mimed an explosion with her hooves.

Lowered head, slumped shoulders. Burnt Brick could almost see the burden of responsibility pulling the pegasus down, sitting on top of her with an unimaginable weight.

“How big of an explosion are we talking, anyway?”

Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

“Large enough that it’s good we’re very, very far away from any kind of civilization.”

“Oh.”

Clear Melody’s wings trembled. “I dream about it. One tiny miscalculation, one second of distraction, and…”

Her voice broke. “I could be responsible for all of your…”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Burnt Brick decided on a final, desperate charge.

“That might be true. But you know what? You won’t mess up.”

“How do you know that?” Clear Melody was looking down. “No offense, Mr. Brick, but I doubt you know anything about these crystals.”

“Hey, kid.” He waited until she met his eyes. “The princesses could’ve picked somepony else, but they didn’t. They picked you. Not your mother, not some other egghead from the university, not some crystal guru from Celestia-knows-where. You.”

He tapped her lightly on the muzzle. “They believe in you. Maybe it’s time you did too, huh?”

At once, she straightened herself and studied him like she was looking for something.

“But Mr. Brick, there aren’t many ponies that can hear the crystals like I can. Also, you only had unkind words for the princesses until now. Why would you trust their judgment?”

Burnt Brick took a step away from her and gave a flamboyant bow that wouldn’t have looked out of place at the royal court.

“What do I know? I’m just the director of this circus. I’m here to catch the blame if the clowns blow something up.” He winked at her. “You trust them enough that you joined this project. Also trust them in choosing you.”

Like a sunrise, a smile found its way back onto Clear Melody’s face. It certainly belonged there. She had looked so very wrong without it.

Stepping back towards the chalkboard, Burnt Brick continued.

“Cold, yaks, time, exploding crystals… anypony got anything else they want to talk about?”

“Dear, we’re all missing the forest for the trees,” Lady Martha began, her voice cutting through the room. She strode to the chalkboard, each step deliberate.

As she turned to face the group, hard lines drew a stern expression onto her muzzle.

“Isolation,” she said, the word hanging in the air like a death knell. “Months in the frozen wasteland, cut off from the world. It can drive even the sanest pony to the brink.”

Lady Martha’s gaze swept across the room, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “I’ve seen trade missions crumble into anarchy,” she continued.

She paused, collecting herself. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger, but Burnt Brick sensed an undercurrent of fear. “Out there, in that vast white emptiness, the silence becomes a living thing. It whispers to you, preys on your fears, amplifies every doubt.”

The jenny began to pace, her hooves clicking against the stone floor. “You see, my dears, it’s not just the cold or the danger that changes us. It’s the crushing weight of isolation. I don’t know how to explain it fully, but when you’re out there… you become different.”

She stopped, turning back to face the group. “All the niceties of Canterlot society, the polite smiles, the careful courtesies—they’re a veneer. A thin coat of paint over our baser instincts.”

Lady Martha tapped her hoof. “Five minutes,” she said, the words sharp. “That’s all it takes in the Frozen North. Five bad minutes, and I guarantee you’ll see ponies—good, civilized ponies—descend into savagery.”

The room fell silent as her words sank in and Burnt Brick found himself grudgingly impressed. That jenny certainly had a talent for showponyship. He made a mental note to steal some of her tricks. The gravity of her warning, however, left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Brick shot a sideways glance towards Melody. Expecting fear and shock in her face, he was surprised to see her resting in her chair with a calm expression. There was even that sunny smile. Curious.

“She’s right, you know,” Hammerhead cut in, interrupting Brick’s thoughts. “Been there during my time with the griffons. Good birds they were as well. Good soldiers.”

The captain shook his massive head, while staring off into some unseen distance.

“But something out there… it just turns you nuts.”

Seeing the forlorn expression on Hammerhead’s face did nothing to soften the knot in Burnt Brick’s guts.

“Anypony got ideas on how we can deal with that?” he tried lamely.

Looking into the faces of his team, he knew that this was a danger they couldn’t prepare for. Not really.

“Just try to keep your head on straight,” Hammerhead said.

“Great advice as always, Cap.” Burnt Brick rolled his eyes. “Do we have anything else, or should we call it a rest?”

“It’s very late, dear, and we will be on a difficult journey together soon. I think it might be best to get some rest. Don’t you think?” Lady Martha answered, half-yawning at the end.

Nopony objected. After cleaning up the room and turning off the lights, Burnt Brick looked back once more.

How many times had he dozed off in these very seats, dreaming of the buildings he would create? He wondered if this had been his last visit to the old university.

The empty corridors echoed with their hoofsteps as they made their way outside. The night air hit them like a splash of cold water after the stuffy seminar room. It carried the sweet scent of late spring. Canterlot’s streets lay empty before them. Cobblestones gleamed under Luna’s moon like scattered coins. In the distance, the castle’s spires pierced the star-studded sky, their golden surfaces catching and reflecting the light.

Clear Melody and Lady Martha bid their goodbyes, their voices unnaturally loud in the quiet night. Burnt Brick watched them trot off, their shadows dancing across the buildings.

He was about to follow when he felt a heavy hoof on his shoulder. The weight of it seemed to anchor him to the spot.

“A moment.”

The captain was wearing his signature stoic expression. Burnt Brick countered with an overly enthusiastic grin.

“Of course, Cappy, for you—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Burnt Brick let the grin drop and pouted at the captain.

“I can’t call you Hammy, I can’t call you Cappy, what can I call you?”

“Captain Hammerhead would be appropriate. In the very distant future, I could see a world in which just ‘Hammerhead’ could be acceptable.”

With a quick snort, Brick bumped Hammerhead’s shoulder. It was like pushing against a mountain.

“You know, I never know when you’re serious or when you’re pulling my leg. I love that about you. Still, what do your friends, family, comrades, or whatever call you?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified, Mr. Brick.”

Burnt Brick snorted again.

As he leaned in to inspect the captain’s muzzle, he thought he could see just the tiniest hint of a smile playing on Hammerhead’s face. The scars made it hard to tell though.

“Oh, you old goofball, almost got me there.” He looked towards the sleeping city. “The others are gone now. What did you want to talk about?”

Burnt Brick saw the sigh coming before he heard it. By now, he knew that sigh. Something was bothering the old soldier and it was about to come out.

Hammerhead’s good eye fixed on Burnt Brick, searching.

“So,” he said, his voice unusually quiet. “You’ve seen the plan. Met the team.” He paused, seeming to weigh his next words.

“What’s your read on all this? The project, the expedition. All of it.”

Burnt Brick clicked his tongue and looked towards the sky.

“This isn’t an expedition. This is a funeral procession.”

This had no immediate effect on the captain. He just nodded before replying.

“I see.”

Burnt Brick remained silent and turned his head to look at the pegasus. Something was off. Underneath the scars, underneath the emotionless mask, some turmoil was brewing.

Hammerhead’s eye flickered. Burnt Brick suspected there was a storm of emotions passing behind it. The captain’s jaw clenched and unclenched. But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment vanished. His features smoothed over, the familiar mask of stoicism sliding back in place like a shield.

The captain turned his gaze away. Nodding again, he repeated.

“I see.”

The pale light of dawn was just beginning to chase away the last shadows as Burnt Brick and his team arrived at the Canterlot docks. The air was thick with the scent of Everfree timber. A cacophony of creaking wood filled the air.

But as they rounded the corner, all other sights and sounds faded into the background.

There, moored at the far end of the dock, hovered the Audacity.

Burnt Brick’s jaw dropped as he took in the magnificent and bizarre contraption before him. It was unlike any airship he’d ever seen.

Its reinforced balloon was separated into four compartments and painted so that it blended in with the sky. The polished hull gleamed in the morning light. Its sleek lines were a far cry from the bulbous passenger ships that usually graced Canterlot’s skies. Intricate patterns of crystals studded the hull’s surface.

“Well, I’ll be a diamond dog’s uncle,” Burnt Brick muttered, his professional interest piqued. “They really went all out on this one.”

As they drew closer, he could see more of the ship’s unconventional design. Seams ran along its length, subtle but unmistakable to his trained eye. This wasn’t just a ship; it was a giant, floating puzzle box.

“Look at those join lines,” he said, more to himself than the others. “This is where the whole thing is meant to come apart. Clever. Real clever.”

Lady Martha sidled up beside him. Where he had decided on a worn, sturdy work vest with numerous pockets, she had opted for a tailored flight suit in a rich, deep purple, with golden trim along the seams. Where he had donned a bandana, ready to pull up over his muzzle, she had chosen a jaunty aviator’s cap, complete with goggles that could be put on at a moment’s notice.

She smiled broadly. “You should have told me that you needed a new outfit for our trip. I would have gladly provided.”

Burnt Brick ignored her, focusing on the ship. He could see how each section could be repurposed. The hull could form shelter walls. The internal struts? Perfect for scaffolding. Even the balloon fabric could be used for insulation or waterproofing in a pinch.

“It's beautiful,” Clear Melody breathed. The young pegasus wore a pale blue flight suit that allowed for easy movement of her wings. It was adorned with small, shimmering crystals in a pattern reminiscent of her cutie mark. A utility belt rounded her waist, filled with delicate tools Brick didn’t recognize.

“It’s a death trap,” Burnt Brick countered, but there was no real heat in his words. Despite himself, he was impressed. Whoever had designed this thing knew their stuff.

Captain Hammerhead stepped forward. “This is more than just our ride north,” he said, his voice carrying a note of respect. “This is our lifeline. Our home. Our tools. Everything we need, all in one package.”

The captain wore a navy-blue uniform that was almost black. Silver accents denoted his rank. It was obviously made of tough, weather-resistant material, built to withstand the harshest conditions. Curiously, insignias of both the Royal and the Night Guard adorned his shoulders.

Burnt Brick nodded grudgingly. “Yeah, yeah. Real marvel of engineering. How are we going to fly this thing without a crew again?”

Clear Melody’s eyes lit up. “The crystals in the hull are charged with navigational spell matrices that will carry us along the ley lines...”

Burnt Brick’s attention wavered as she delved into the technical details. His gaze drifted back to the Audacity, its sleek form bobbing gently in the morning mist. After the dungeons, the sight stirred something in him. Freedom. Possibility.

He tuned back in just as Clear Melody was wrapping up her explanation. “... so, with some minor corrections, it will essentially fly itself.”

“Alright then,” Hammerhead announced, already striding towards the gangplank. “Let’s board. We have a difficult journey ahead of us.”

The wood underneath their steps gave a welcoming creak. Burnt Brick felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. For a moment, he could almost forget the circumstances that had brought him there.

Once they were all aboard, Burnt Brick straightened up. His demeanor shifted from awestruck observer to leader.

“Right,” he said, his voice carrying across the deck. “Time to get organized. Lady Martha, I want you on helm duty.”

Her eyes gleamed as they swept over the controls, taking in every detail.

“Well now,” she murmured. “This is a fine piece of work.”

She moved with practiced ease, her hooves ghosting over levers and dials. “Ballast controls for ascent.”

“Gas vents for descent. And this beauty,” she added, resting a leg on the polished wheel, “for steering.” Martha turned to face the others, her eyes sparkling. She lifted her chin. “It’s remarkably intuitive. Clearly designed for use, even in... let’s say, less than ideal circumstances.”

She trotted over to an ornate star chart mounted nearby. “Of course, with the magical navigation system, we shouldn’t need to rely on manual control. But it’s comforting to know we can if needed.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “After all, one can never be too prepared when venturing into the unknown.”

Burnt Brick considered her. This was a far cry from the prim and proper lady he’d first met. Here, surrounded by nautical instruments and the promise of adventure, Lady Martha seemed... well, in her element. Her focus remained entirely on the ship, as if the social niceties of the world below no longer applied.

“Just try not to crash it.” He pulled away from Martha.

“Clear Melody.” Burnt Brick turned to the young pegasus. His tone softened almost imperceptibly.

“I need you to run a thorough inventory on the crystals. Check, double-check, and triple-check that everything is secure and accounted for. Make sure you have everything you need. We can improvise with other supplies, but not with those crystals. Without them, we’re screwed.”

Melody’s eyes dropped for a fraction of a second. But then she squared her shoulders, her wings giving a determined flutter. “I understand, Mr. Brick. You can count on me!”

With a quick salute that was half playful, half serious, she took off towards the cargo hold in the belly of the ship.

Burnt Brick watched her go. The kid had spirit, he had to give her that.

Finally, Brick turned to Hammerhead and shook his head. “And what are we going to do with you? Can you cook?”

The pegasus didn’t react.

“Good enough. You’ll prepare our meals and fly patrols around the airship. I mostly trust Lady Martha on the wheel. Still, let’s make sure we don’t ram anything. And keep an eye out for bad weather.”

To Brick’s surprise, Hammerhead didn’t object. On the contrary, the pegasus simply gave a curt nod and said, “Aye.”

Burned Brick raised his chin.

“Aye… what?”

The captain leveled him with a stare worthy of twice the eyes he actually had. “You are our construction manager, nothing else.”

“I’m the manager for this project, which puts me in charge of this ship, which makes me a…?”

“… captain,” Hammerhead conceded.

“You know, since we are both captains now, I think I can already relate to you much better. I think this might be the start of a wonderful friendship.”

Hammerhead raised his eyebrow.

“And what about you, ‘Captain’ Brick?” he asked, his tone hovering between amusement and exasperation. “What vital role will you be playing on this journey?”

“Why, I’ll be shouldering the heavy burden of responsibility, of course.”

Hammerhead’s eyebrow threatened to disappear into his mane. His silence spoke volumes.

“Oh, come on.” Burnt Brick snorted. “If you must know, I’ll also be doing an inventory check and running calculations. I want to know exactly what we have, down to the last nail and thread. And y’know. How long it’ll last us.”

“We received a detailed inventory beforehand.”

Burnt Brick chuckled and patted Hammerhead on the back.

“My friend, you have obviously never worked in construction. These things are never accurate.”

“Aye, skipper.”

Brick trotted to the bow and planted himself firmly on the deck. He watched as the ropes binding the Audacity to the ground were untied. The familiar sounds of Canterlot—the chatter of ponies, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone—faded away as the ship ascended. He watched as the gleaming spires of the capital grew smaller, feeling a strange mix of relief and trepidation.

“Well, no turning back now,” he muttered to himself.

The Audacity picked up speed, cutting through the air with barely a whisper. Brick knew they were guided along invisible magical currents by the crystals embedded in the hull.

Clear Melody walked up to him, her mane whipping in the wind, expression filled with wonder.

Turning to her, he said, “I’m curious. What has he offered you?”

Melody tilted her head. “Who offered me what?”

Rolling his eyes, Burning Brick explained, “Hammerhead. What has he offered you in exchange for your work with this project?”

She tilted her head even further. “I’m being compensated for my time very generously. I told him that wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.”

Burnt Brick rolled his own head back and gave a roaring laugh.

He waited for her to join in but noticed that she wasn’t laughing. He took a moment to study her. “Oh, you’re serious?”

An even more intense fit of laughter shook him. Tears started to well up.

“Dear Luna, they really cheaped out on you, didn’t they? You’re risking your life for nothing?”

Clear Melody took a step back and unfolded her wings. “For nothing? We’re helping to protect Equestria! We’re helping the princesses! What could be more reward than that?”

Suddenly, Burnt Brick didn’t feel like laughing anymore. His heart contracted painfully. Clear Melody’s attitude reminded him too much of another pegasus he had once known. Another pegasus with big dreams and a big heart. It reminded him of a time when he too hadn’t been so jaded.

He briefly put a hoof on her shoulder. “You know what, kid? I suppose you’re right.”

“Isn’t it amazing, Mr. Brick?” she breathed, her wings fluttering. “We’re really doing this!”

Burnt Brick snorted.

“Yeah, kid. We’re really doing this.” He paused, looking out at the landscape speeding by below them. “Hope you’re ready for what comes next.”

As if on cue, the ship banked sharply, sending both of them stumbling. Burnt Brick caught himself on the railing, while Clear Melody took to the air with a startled yelp.

“What in Celestia’s f—” Brick started, but was cut off by Lady Martha’s cultured tones, now tinged with exhilaration.

“Sorry about that, dear!” she called from the helm, not sounding sorry at all. “Just testing the responsiveness. She handles like a dream!”

“If we lose the ley lines because of your ‘testing’, I’ll make you scrub the deck until your hooves bleed,” he barked back.

He could see Captain Hammerhead on the upper deck, whose expression betrayed just a hint of alarm at Lady Martha’s piloting.

As they leveled out, Brick’s thoughts shifted to his crew. Lady Martha, who’d faced down death in the frozen wastes and lived to talk about it over cider. Not just some prissy socialite—a survivor who knew the dangers she was flying into. Clear Melody, so young and yet an expert in her field. She faced the world with optimism and a quiet strength that put his cynicism to shame. Hammerhead, that walking statue of a pegasus. Veteran of many excursions out of Equestria and more heart than his stern exterior would suggest.

Brick grinned to himself. When had that happened? When had these ponies stopped being the princesses’ pawns and become… well, a team? His team. Each of them bringing something vital to this impossible mission. Celestia help him, he had actually started to believe in them.

He had a great team. He had amazing equipment. He had an unbelievable mission. Nothing could go wrong.

“Something’s wrong!”

Burnt Brick banged his forehead on the bulkhead as he snapped awake.

“What in the… fuck?” he groaned. Squinting through groggy eyes, he could barely make out the petite shape of Clear Melody standing in front of him. Her wings were quivering.

“Captain Hammerhead came back from his morning patrol. There’s bad weather ahead. Really, really bad weather.”

They had sailed between Cloudsdale and Neighagra Falls that night. Out here, the weather wasn’t managed anymore.

“Alright, alright, alright.” Burnt Brick peeled himself out of bed. With a clever rope contraption installed in the cabin, he rang out an emergency meeting.

After only a few minutes, the team had gathered in the chart room. The cramped chamber was eerily quiet—the magical engines that powered their journey were silent as starlight. Crystals in the bulkheads cast long shadows across the polished floorboards. Hammerhead, Martha and Melody were looking at Brick for guidance, their faces half-hidden in the dim light. It was game time, and he knew the rules: succeed or die trying.

“Hammerhead, report,” Brick commanded.

“Thunderstorm, about 150 nautical miles ahead of us and moving in our direction at about thirty knots. At least a multicell, possibly supercell,” Hammerhead announced without delay, looking straight ahead.

“Good job. Martha, report.”

“We’re slow cruising at fifty knots, so that we can fly patrols. The Audacity is perfectly on course and still anchored to the ley lines. We are fourteen minutes ahead of schedule.”

Burnt Brick tapped his chin. “That gives us around two hours. Team, what are our options?”

Clear Melody raised a wing. “We could fly around it.”

Burnt Brick shook his head. “Good suggestion, but I don’t like it. We’d spend too much of our energy and lose our navigational lock.”

The jenny stepped forward. “That would be an issue indeed. I can only navigate by the stars. If we get a cloudy night, there’s not much I can do.

“However, we have plenty of ballast and the landscape below is even. Let’s vent some lift gas and hunker down on the ground. We’ll wait a few hours until the storm blows over, drop our ballast, and off we go.”

“Thanks, but I don’t like it either. The storm would still hit us on the ground.” Burnt Brick bit his lip and tapped on the deck.

“Besides,” Hammerhead chimed in, “we’d also lose much of our lift gas and ballast. Remember, the gas is also our emergency fuel.”

“We’d also waste time,” Brick added. “Each hour we spend here is one hour less we have in the north until summer’s over.”

Suddenly, an idea popped into Brick’s head.

“We can’t go through, we can’t dodge it on the side, we can’t go below… what if we go over?”

The team stared at him incredulously, but Burnt Brick looked towards the sky ahead.

Clear Melody was the first to speak again, eyes fixed on Brick.

“Going over would cost us much less gas and ballast. We could also fly faster up there,” she said.

“Hammerhead, how high does the storm reach, do you think?” Brick asked.

“About fifty thousand feet, but the most severe parts of a storm are usually in the lower and middle portions.”

“Martha, you’ve read the manual. How high can this thing go?”

“Maximum altitude for the Audacity is forty thousand feet. Just high enough that we might be able to avoid the worst of the storm, I suppose.”

“But,” Clear Melody cut in, “we can’t breathe at that altitude. Not even us pegasi.”

Damn.

Burnt Brick looked around the chart room, as if something there could help him out of this dilemma. As his gaze wandered over the insulation, another idea hit him.

“I’ve worked with this kind of insulation.” He rapped the bulkhead. “Not only can it keep the cold out, with a few tweaks, we could make it keep air in.”

“Look, dearie. This is a fabulous plan, but don’t you think it’s too risky? Hitting a storm was extremely unfortunate. Trying to overfly it would put us in a lot of danger.”

“What would you have us do instead?” Brick asked.

“Let’s turn around, outrun the storm.” Martha sighed. “Contact Canterlot. Get our gas, ballast and engine crystals recharged. It would cost us a couple of days.”

Melody spoke up. “What about our yak friends? Will they wait for us if we’re late?”

Martha breathed a second, even deeper sigh. “Yaks honor their debts, but they also tend to be the impatient sort. There’s... no telling if they’ll still be there.”

Brick shook his head. “I hate it. But you’re the aviator and it’s not just my life. If you think it’s too risky, maybe we should turn around.”

With a shrug, Martha added, “If the yaks are gone when we arrive, Captain Hammerhead will contact the princess and—”

“No!” Hammerhead stomped down. Burnt Brick felt the room vibrate in response. “The princesses entrusted us with this mission, and you want to give up at the first hurdle?!”

Crystal Melody started into the air with a yelp at his sudden outburst but collected herself quickly.

“I also think we should try. The princesses believe in us!” she pleaded.

“Fine, fine.” Lady Martha raised a hoof. “But I want you to understand that if we can’t make this ship airtight and we run out of air up there…”

She finished by slowly dragging her hoof across her neck.

The team turned back to Brick.

“Listen up. Here’s the plan. We slow down the ship. Let’s say… twenty knots.” He exchanged a glance with Lady Martha.

“Everypony works double to make the chart room airtight until we’re 110% sure of it. About half an hour before we hit the storm, we start ascending and hit full speed ahead. Martha, how fast can we go?”

The jenny answered without hesitation. “One hundred knots. At that altitude? Maybe 120.”

“Good enough. We need to calculate beforehand exactly how much ballast we need to drop. All the controls are outside. Once we hunker down, we can’t make adjustments anymore.”

His team was focused on him, hanging on every word. Their eyes glittered with determination. Burnt Brick continued.

“We’ll wait out the storm in here.”

“One question, fearless captain,” Lady Martha said. “How will we descend again? As you noted, the controls for the lift gas are outside.”

Burnt Brick sighed. That was a problem.

“One of us will have to go outside and vent the gas,” Captain Hammerhead answered for him.

“Yes, and that pony will be me,” Clear Melody announced, stomping on the deck in apparent imitation of Hammerhead’s gesture, but with little effect.

Everypony turned to her. Hammerhead lifted a hoof.

“No, no. I was thinking about myself. You are not expendable.”

“Nopony is expendable!” She stomped again. “I’m quicker than you and you know it.”

Burnt Brick nodded reluctantly. “She does have a point. If she runs out of air and conks out, you can get her back inside. If the same happens to you… what’s she gonna do?”

For emphasis, he lifted one of Melody’s slim wings into the air and let it drop. “Martha and I can’t help you either, we haven’t got pegasus lungs.”

Hammerhead grumbled something to himself but offered no further disagreement.

“Alright, everypony. This isn’t an order. We’ll only do this if the whole team agrees.”

Brick glanced towards Martha. He saw the pegasi do the same.

“What are you all looking at me for?” the jenny protested. “This plan is incredibly difficult, insanely risky and impossibly spectacular. Let’s do it.”

He shot her a look that questioned both her sanity and his own.

“My dear, for me this is just business. There is no profit without risk.”

The next hour was a flurry of activity aboard the Audacity. Burnt Brick directed operations with the precision of a seasoned foreman. He felt absolutely in the zone, shooting rapid-fire instructions every which way. Just like in the good old days.

“Martha, check every seal twice! Melody, I need those pressure calculations yesterday! Hammerhead, secure everything that isn’t nailed down—and if it isn’t, start nailing! And I want everypony in their thickest winter gear, it’s gonna get real cold up there!”

The rest of the team worked in near silence. A growing sense of anticipation settled over the ship.

Brick himself was moving from station to station, checking work, offering advice, and making last-minute adjustments. His hooves flew over joints and seams, his experienced eye catching potential weak points that others might have missed.

As they neared completion, Clear Melody approached him. Her wings twitched nervously.

“Mr. Brick,” she began, her voice quiet but determined, “I’ve triple-checked all the engine crystals and the crystals in storage. They should be secure, but...”

Burnt Brick paused in his work, turning to give her his full attention. “But what, kid?”

“Well, we’ve never tested them under these conditions. Extreme altitude, rapid pressure changes... I’m not sure how they’ll react.”

Burnt Brick considered.

“Good thinking. Any way to stabilize them further?”

Clear Melody’s face lit up. “Yes. Project Eternity will use crystal overflow batteries to stabilize the system. They sort of suck up any excess of emotional and magical energy. If I activate some of them, they will provide additional safety.”

“The catch?”

“They’re a bit…” Melody was drawing circles in the air with her wing, obviously looking for words. “… weird. If we activate them in isolation and not as part of the whole system, they might break.”

“Do it,” Burnt Brick said without hesitation. “And kid? Good catch.”

Clear Melody trotted off, wings held high with pride. Burnt Brick allowed himself a small smile. The kid was proving her worth, no doubt about that.

His reflection was cut short by Lady Martha. “Captain, I've gone over Melody’s calculations. We’ll need to drop precisely 2,138 pounds of ballast to reach optimal altitude.”

Burnt Brick whistled low. “You sure about those numbers?”

Lady Martha’s eyes glinted. “My dear, I’ve traveled through the Frozen North’s most treacherous passes. I assure you: these calculations are impeccable.”

“Alright, alright,” Burnt Brick conceded, holding up a hoof in mock surrender. “Just remember, if we end up in the stratosphere, I’m blaming you.”

As the final preparations were made, a palpable tension settled over the ship. Burnt Brick surveyed his team. Clear Melody had just finished some last-minute adjustments to the crystals. Lady Martha stood at the helm, her usual poise tempered by a hint of excitement. And Hammerhead... well, the stoic captain looked as impassive as ever, but there was a subtle stiffness in his stance.

“Listen up, team,” Burnt Brick announced, his voice cutting through the silence. “This is it. We’ve got one shot at this, so let’s make it count.”

He paused, making eye contact with each of them in turn. “Martha, drop the ballast and give us full speed ahead!”

A distant rumble of thunder reached their ears. The storm was approaching.

Lady Martha’s hooves moved deftly over the controls. “Aye, aye, Captain. Dropping ballast and full speed ahead!” she said, her voice steady despite the circumstances.

The Audacity began to climb. Its magical engines hummed with increased power. Burnt Brick could see the landscape below growing smaller. And the storm drawing nearer.

He felt his ears pop as the pressure changed. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain calm. “We’ve done what we can. Gather in the chart room and let’s seal that door.”

Another rumble of thunder, louder this time. A wall of dark clouds loomed ahead, shot through with veins of lightning. This got everypony moving. In minutes, the team had gathered in the chart room. They worked together, applying generous quantities of insulation material to seal the door.

It was hard to keep balance as the Audacity climbed. Through the sealed walls, the noise of the storm could only be heard as muffled growls. Nothing, however, stopped the violent jerks as the ship was tossed around by the wind like a toy.

“Celestia’s mane,” Clear Melody whispered, her eyes wide.

Lady Martha placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Steady now, Miss Melody. I’ve been through much worse storms and came out alright.”

Melody nodded, squaring her shoulders. “Really?”

The jenny only coughed, but Burnt Brick thought he could hear a mumbled “No” in there.

“Mr. Brick?” Crystal Melody turned to him abruptly. “Why were you in jail?”

Burnt Brick took a step back and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Finally, he managed to say, “W-why are you bringing this up now?”

Delay. Deflect. Distract.

“I wanted to ask on the bow, but then Lady Martha made that maneuver…” she answered, a slight blush creeping into her face.

“I really don’t think this is the right time.”

The jenny interjected with a coy smile. “What else is there to do right now, Captain Brick? All we can do is wait until we pass over, pass out or get obliterated by this storm.”

Just then, an especially violent gust shoved the airship. Both Burnt Brick and Lady Martha fell over, while the pegasi were able to stabilize themselves with their wings.

Not bothering to stand up, Brick looked up at Melody from his undignified position on the ground.

“Let’s just not talk about it right now, okay?”

“But I’m also curious,” chirped Lady Martha. “And since you are leading this expedition, I think we do have a right to know.”

“Look, somepony did something horrible to my partner.” A great anger was welling up inside Burnt Brick.

“But these assholes from the guard”—he glanced at Hammerhead and raised his voice with each word—“they didn’t do shit.”

The jenny took a careful step back, obviously surprised. Clear Melody only frowned.

“So, I said ‘fuck it’. Fuck the rich bastards we’re building for. Fuck the Royal Guard. Fuck Canterlot. Fuck the princesses. Fuck all of them!” The words tore from Brick’s throat with increasing fury.

Melody flinched at each sentence, but when he mentioned the princesses, she yelped and covered her face with her wings.

Simultaneously, Hammerhead’s face contracted, and he launched himself towards Brick.

“I don’t care if you want to delude yourself about the accident your partner had. But you will not insult the princesses in my presence!” Hammerhead growled, suddenly standing on top of Burnt Brick and looking down on him, unblinking.

A muffled crack of thunder put emphasis on his warning.

“Or what? You’re gonna beat me up? Look here everypony, he’s gonna beat me—”

Burnt Brick’s world went black.

Author's Note

Special thanks to mellon for their unending patience in editing&proofreading this chapter

Here's a lovely picture of Martha on the helm of the Audacity

Chapter 5: Foundation

Burnt Brick surfaced from sleep gradually, his consciousness drifting up through layers of exhaustion. The familiar vibration of the Audacity's crystal engines felt different somehow—steadier, almost proud. Like a ship that knew she had accomplished something impressive.

When he finally made his way to the deck, he had to shield his eyes. The afternoon sun struck the pristine snow below with almost blinding intensity. Where the crystal mountains had been a barrier of jagged peaks that morning, they were now a distant wall behind them, their surfaces still catching the light and splintering it into rainbow fragments.

Before them stretched the endless white expanse of the Frozen North. The horizon seemed impossibly far, the divide between snow and sky almost indistinguishable. Even the air felt different—cleaner, sharper, carrying the threat of winter.

“Well, well, sleeping beauty awakens,” Lady Martha called from her position at the helm. Despite the shadows under her eyes, she looked pleased with herself. Clear Melody hovered nearby, her wings creating small eddies in the frigid air as she held some kind of compass.

Brick poured himself a cup of herbal tea from a can Martha or Melody must have prepared earlier. He steadied himself against the railing, taking in the vast whiteness ahead. “So, this is it, huh? The Frozen North?”

“Indeed,” Martha replied. Her voice was hoarse. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“In a terrifying, might-kill-us-all sorta way. Where’s our resident ray of sunshine?” Brick asked, noticing Hammerhead’s absence.

“Probably still asleep,” Martha said. “He’s been out unusually long, but I say we give the captain some rest. Miss Melody has been most helpful flying patrols in his stead.”

Clear Melody gave a salute with her wing.

“Did I miss anything exciting?” Brick pointed at the ugly scratches along the Audacity’s hull.

“Oh, nothing much,” Martha replied airily. “Just a slight disagreement between our dear ship and the mountain walls. They were being most unreasonable about sharing space.”

Clear Melody dropped down to the deck, her hooves clattering against the wood. “It was terrifying! And amazing! Lady Martha threaded us through gaps I would have sworn were too narrow, and when we scraped against the mountain wall, the sound was like—”

“Like your soul trying to escape through your ears,” Martha finished with a grimace. “But the damage is mostly superficial. Nothing that can’t be patched once we make landfall.”

“What about the navigational crystals in the hull? Are those banged up?” Burnt Brick asked.

“We might’ve lost some of them,” Melody admitted. “But the system has a lot of redundancies. We’ll be fine.”

“I see.” Burnt Brick tapped his chin. “Just try not to destroy all our equipment before we reach the site. Otherwise, I’ll have to bill you for it. In the name of the princesses and such.”

Martha huffed. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Brick, most of our equipment, including the Audacity, has been financed by my generous contributions to this project.”

“Speaking of which”—Brick nodded towards the compass in Melody’s hooves—“what’s with the fancy gear?”

“We’re trying to recover the ley lines so that we can find the project site,” Melody explained, her face brightening. The compass emitted a soft chime.

Brick leaned against the railing, watching his tea ripple with each minor adjustment of their heading. “Any luck, kid?”

“Shhh!” Melody’s wing shot up to silence him. She closed her eyes in concentration, the compass wobbling slightly in her grip.

“Let her focus,” Martha chided softly.

Brick opened his mouth to retort, but something in the air changed. The crystal engines’ hum shifted pitch ever so slightly. Melody’s compass let out a clear, pure note.

The ship suddenly lurched, making them all stumble. But this wasn’t the violent motion of a crash—it felt more like a key sliding into a lock.

“There!” Melody squealed as her wings gave a small flutter. “We’re back on track!”

Martha immediately began checking their instruments. “Remarkable. Perfectly on course. It’s as if we never lost contact.”

“Now that we’ve recovered the ley lines, how long until we reach the site?” Brick asked.

“At current speed,” Martha explained, “we should make it by nightfall. Our little excursion has made us fashionably late, but I’m sure our yak friends will still be there.”

Brick nodded towards Melody, who was still holding the compass. “Never doubted you for a second, kid.”

The gangway door slammed open with a crash. The sound made them all wince. Through the door walked Captain Hammerhead, whose face was contorted into even sharper lines than usual—insofar as that was possible.

Picking up the conversation where they had left off, Melody said, “The crystals did all the work. They wanted to find their way home.”

“Crystals don’t ‘want’ anything,” grunted Hammerhead. “They respond to frequencies, nothing more.”

Melody’s smile dimmed slightly. “Maybe. But have you ever really listened to them? Sometimes, when they sing together, it almost sounds like…”

Hammerhead had grabbed a bowl of oats and trotted to the other end of the ship.

“Who pissed in his tea this morning?” Brick chuckled.

That only earned him disapproving glares from Martha and Melody.

“Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Burnt Brick felt no sense of urgency as he approached Hammerhead. Here he found a loose rope to tie up, over there was a rattling plank in need of a nail. Alas, the inevitable could only be delayed so much.

Before he knew it, Brick sat down beside the blue pegasus.

“So… nice weather we’re having, huh?”

“What do you want, Brick?” Hammerhead lowered the bowl of oats and turned to face the sky.

“The ladies and I have noticed that, despite the honestly quite astonishing beauty of the landscape”—Burnt Brick accentuated this with a sweeping motion towards their surroundings—“and our even more astonishing success thus far, you seem somewhat put out. What’s the matter, big guy?”

Hammerhead considered him with a frown. After a few seconds of awkward silence, the captain turned away again.

“If you must know, I just spoke with Her Highness.”

Brick needed to process that one for a second. “Right. Speaking to you in your dreams. That’s not creepy at all.”

Hammerhead’s eye drew to a thin slit.

“Fine, fine. Sorry. Well, did you have to tell her… everything? Like, everything, everything?” Brick tapped his chin at the spot Hammerhead had punched him during the storm.

Shaking his head, Hammerhead answered, “Even if I wanted to hide something, in the world of dreams, Her Highness sees all.”

Brick covered his muzzle and mumbled, “Creee-py.”

“Did you say something?”

“What did she talk with you about?”

“While being glad we found a way through the storm and passing the Crystal Mountains”—Hammerhead’s expression darkened even further—“she wasn’t satisfied with my conduct.”

Brick shook his head. “But she chose you herself. If she knows oh-so-much about us, she has no right to complain.”

Hammerhead grumbled. “Actually, in my case—”

“Mr. Brick! Captain Hammerhead! Come quick!” Clear Melody’s voice rang across the deck.

They found her at the bow, bouncing on her hooves as she passed a brass looking glass to Martha. The jenny adjusted it with practiced ease.

“Ah yes, there it is.” A satisfied smile crossed her face. “The yaks have done well. Look at those prayer flags—absolutely spectacular.”

Brick took his turn at the spyglass. Through the lens, vibrant strips of fabric danced in the wind, creating ribbons of color against the endless white. Red, blue, green, yellow, and orange flags formed intricate patterns, marking what must be their destination. Behind the flags, he could make out several dark shapes moving about.

“They seem... busy,” he noted, passing the spyglass to Hammerhead.

“Of course they are,” Lady Martha replied. “The flags aren’t just for show. Each one carries prayers and blessings. Very important for a project of this magnitude.”

“Let’s hope they help.”

The sun was low on the horizon by the time they began their descent. As the Audacity drew closer, what had seemed like mere ribbons of color revealed itself as an impressive work site. Prayer flags formed a perimeter around a massive excavation, where the yaks had started to carve into the ice and permafrost. The pit had three broad, terraced levels, its walls reinforced with wooden supports. Steam rose from the lowest level. There, the yaks had already dug deep into the ground.

This would be their home and workplace for the next months. Brick already saw it in his mind’s eye. On a subterranean foundation, four crystal base pillars would be erected. Those would meet to form an impressive spire reaching towards the sky. Around this spire, the other fancy crystal components would be installed. Overflow batteries—those he knew—and whatever else they had cooked up in Canterlot.

Together, they would form a crystal array that would spread love across Equestria. They would form the Eternity Project.

To one side of the dig site, a curious structure caught Brick’s eye. The yaks had excavated a wide, shallow bowl in the snow and covered it with an enormous tarp. Snow had been piled on top until the whole thing looked like nothing more than a natural drift. Only the occasional puff of warm air from ventilation holes betrayed its true nature. A clever design, he had to admit. The shared body heat of the herd would keep the space warm while the snow provided insulation.

The landing was delicate work. Martha called out adjustments while Hammerhead and Melody managed the mooring lines. When the Audacity’s hull finally settled into the snow with a soft crunch, Brick let out a breath.

A group of massive, shaggy figures emerged from their shelter, their breath creating clouds in the frigid air. They moved with surprising grace for creatures of their size, arranging themselves in a loose semicircle around the ship’s gangplank.

“Let me handle the initial introductions,” Martha murmured as they prepared to disembark. “Yak customs can be... particular.”

She descended first, her poise perfect despite the awkward angle. Hammerhead followed, his military bearing seemingly automatic. Melody almost tripped in her excitement, earning a disapproving grunt from the captain.

Brick took up the rear, studying their welcoming committee. Most of the yaks were nearly twice his height, their thick fur decorated with intricate braids and metallic ornaments. Each wore what appeared to be some kind of token around their neck.

The largest of the yaks stepped forward, his presence commanding even among his impressive kin.

“I AM CHIEFTAIN TORMAND. PONIES ARRIVE LATE!” he announced with earth-shaking volume. “BUT IS OKAY. YAK PATIENT. YAK STRONG!”

Lady Martha bowed gracefully. “Most honored Chieftain Tormand, we thank you for your understanding. My name is Lady Martha, and these are Mr. Burnt Brick, Captain Hammerhead and Miss Clear Melody.” She added something in Yakish that made the massive creature’s eyes crinkle with approval.

“TINY DONKEY SPEAK YAK TONGUE WELL!” He turned to address the whole crew. “YOU BUILD MAGIC THING HERE. YAK HELP. MAKE DARK PRINCESS HAPPY. THEN OLD DEBT PAID.”

“We are grateful for your assistance,” Brick replied formally.

“TINY PONIES NEED HELP WITH UNLOADING?” Tormand’s question echoed through the air. Without waiting for an answer, he nodded to two younger yaks who immediately bounded towards the Audacity’s cargo hold.

“Careful with those!” Brick called out as they nearly collided with a crate of crystals. “They’re, uh... delicate.”

The yaks stopped mid-stride, looking almost comically uncertain. One of them carefully prodded the crate with a single cloven hoof, as if expecting it to shatter at the slightest touch.

“Perhaps we could use their strength elsewhere,” Martha suggested diplomatically. She said something in Yakish that made the younger yaks brighten considerably.

Soon, a line had formed—yaks passing supplies from the ship like an enthusiastic but surprisingly gentle bucket brigade. They treated each item with exaggerated care, whether it needed it or not. The team traded stifled laughs at the sight of a massive yak cradling a rolled-up blueprint like it was a newborn foal.

Martha was walking up and down the line and speaking—what Brick assumed were encouraging words—to the yaks.

“YAK HELP GOOD?” Tormand asked when she approached him, his usual volume softened just a fraction.

“Very good,” Martha assured him. “Most helpful.”

Clear Melody giggled as she directed traffic, pointing out which crates needed special handling. The yaks followed her instructions with earnest concentration, their tongues sticking out slightly as they focused.

“WHO WANT HEAR YAK JOKE?” one of them suddenly announced. “WHY YAK CROSS RIVER?”

“Oh dear,” Martha murmured, but she was smiling. “Best to humor them. Their jokes are... an acquired taste.”

“Why did the yak cross the river?” Brick played along, already regretting it.

“BECAUSE RIVER NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO CROSS YAK! HA!” The yak’s laughter boomed across the snow like an avalanche. The other yaks joined in with thunderous guffaws.

The team offered polite chuckles—except for Hammerhead, who just cleared his throat. The yaks seemed pleased at that. Brick was just about to call everyone back to work when a hollow growl in his stomach betrayed him.

“TIME FOR FOOD,” Tormand announced. “PONY STOMACH SAY SO.”

“We can finish unloading—” Brick started, but Tormand’s massive form was already blocking his path to the cargo hold.

“NO WORK WITH EMPTY STOMACH,” the chieftain declared. “MAKE MISTAKES. DROP THINGS. BREAK TINY PONY CRYSTALS.”

“They have a point,” Hammerhead said. “The temperature will drop significantly after sunset. Better to continue in the morning.”

“COME!” Tormand gestured towards the gathering area where smoke already rose from several cooking pits. “YAK MAKE SPECIAL FEAST FOR NEW FRIENDS!”

The way he said it made it clear this wasn’t so much an invitation as a command. The team exchanged glances. Brick reckoned that it was easier to go along with yak enthusiasm than to resist it. Also, after days of Hammerhead’s oats, a feast was just what he needed.

Only then did Brick notice how his legs trembled with each step, how his shoulders ached from the day’s labor. The cold had masked his exhaustion, but now it hit him all at once. Standing still made it worse. Every muscle protested, and the icy wind that he’d been ignoring all day suddenly cut straight to his bones. He caught himself eyeing the yaks’ thick fur with something approaching envy.

His stomach gave another angry growl.

Feasting it is.

The “feast” was set up right at the edge of the excavation site. Wooden tables had been arranged in a rough circle, offering some protection from the wind. Steam rose from large cooking pits and the scent of unfamiliar spices cut through the crisp air.

Brick sat down beside Lady Martha at one of the tables with two yaks, grateful for the warmth radiating from a nearby fire pit. The food was simple—hearty stews, preserved vegetables, dried fruits, and dense bread that could have doubled as a weapon—but prepared with obvious effort. He watched as Martha deftly used her bread to soak up the rich broth, somehow managing to make even this rustic meal look elegant.

Trying and failing to imitate her technique, Brick ended up with a soggy mass of bread floating in his stew and broth dripping down his chin. However, the explosion of flavors stopped him from caring. Brick tasted ginger, garlic and mountain chilies. Beneath those lay flavors of cumin and vanilla, perfectly matched to the hearty broth. Martha shot him a knowing smile.

Across the gathering, Burnt Brick was stunned to notice a griffon striding around among the yaks. His dark red feathers and tawny fur were a sharp contrast to the yaks’ bulk. His movements were those of a lithe predator, but his bearing spoke more of nobility than menace.

Brick gave Martha a quick poke and pointed at the griffon. “Can you ask them what the hay that one is doing here?”

One of the yaks—whom Martha had introduced as Grimhorn—said something that made her laugh. “He says Guntram has been with them for three moons now. Apparently, he’s been a great help with the excavation. Those griffon claws are most useful tools.”

“They just took him in?”

Martha translated his question. The other yak, a particularly shaggy fellow called Ingville, responded with a small speech.

Martha had to clear her throat before answering. “He says that’s the yak way. They judge you by your actions, not by your heritage.”

While Martha kept talking with the yaks, Brick watched with growing dismay as “Guntram” fought his way through the crowd. When the griffon saw Clear Melody, who was giggling about something at that moment, he brightened visibly. Despite the difference in species, his intentions were clear as crystal as he bent down and gingerly lifted her hoof to kiss it.

Even from a distance, Brick didn’t miss the blush that colored Melody’s white cheeks, nor the way her wings gave a small flutter. Great. Just what they needed—a griffon charming their crystal expert.

She is a grown-up pony, what she does in her free time is none of your business.

Brick peeled his gaze away and focused back on Martha. He tapped his chin. “Can you ask Grimhorn and Ingville about the debt they owe Princess Luna?”

As Martha posed the question to their companions, more yaks gathered around their table. Even Tormand wandered over, his massive form casting long shadows in the firelight.

“DARK PRINCESS HELP YAKS LONG AGO. BEFORE PEACE WITH DRAGONS. BEFORE PRINCE ULYSSES AND YAKYAKISTAN,” Tormand announced. Then he launched into what was clearly a longer explanation in Yakish.

Martha listened intently, then turned to Brick. “It appears that many moons ago, during what they call the ‘Black Winter’, a band of dragons threatened their village—”

“Hold your donkeys there for a second,” Brick interrupted. “Dragons? The dragon lands are at the other end of Equestria.”

“Dragons do tend to migrate.”

“Fair enough, go on.”

“As I was saying,” Martha continued, “the yaks were pretty desperate, so they sent out a call for help.”

“OTHER YAKS DON’T HELP. GRIFFONS DON’T HELP. BUT PONY PRINCESS, SHE HELP. SHE MAKE DRAGONS GONE.”

Brick turned to the chieftain. “Right. So, Princess Luna helped you with your dragon problem?”

“NO. OTHER PRINCESS.”

Brick glanced at Martha, whose eyes had suddenly widened.

“Princess Celestia helped you?” he pressed.

“NO. OTHER PRINCESS.”

“I’m sorry, Chieftain, but those two are all the princesses we ever had.”

“YAK SCROLLS VERY SPECIFIC. DARK PRINCESS HELP YAKS. MAKE DRAGONS GONE. Scroll say this princess like Princess of Night but not same. This Princess have sharp teeth. This princess have eyes like dragon. This princess have silver armor. She is Jō rātō rātō varṣā banā'um̐chin.”

As he was describing this mysterious princess, even Tormand’s speech became reverent and more subdued. The last words were whispered and utterly incomprehensible to Brick. However, he watched with growing horror as all color vanished from Martha’s face. The jenny sat in stunned silence.

He put a tender hoof on Martha’s shoulder. “You okay there?”

She didn’t respond.

“What do these last words mean?” he tried again, poking her shoulder with more force.

Finally, some life came back into Martha. She resumed a calm poise, but Brick could feel her tremble beneath his hoof. When she eventually spoke, it was more to herself than anything else.

“Princess Luna is the Jō rātō rātō varṣā banā'um̐chin… I always thought there were some concerning parallels, but I never dared imagine that it actually happened. I thought it was merely a yak legend.”

“What’s going on?” Brick finally got her attention. “What the hay are you talking about?”

“Like we have the legend of The Headless Horse, the yaks have the Jō rātō rātō varṣā banā'um̐chin. It’s a grim story. But if it’s in their history scrolls, there must be truth to it. No mere legend gets written down in those.” Martha frowned.

“So, what does it mean?”

“Literally translated, it means ‘Pony who makes red rain in the night.’”

“I... still don’t get it.”

“Oh, Mr. Brick, you must’ve heard the ghastly stories ponies tell about Princess Luna. Dear, what do you think ‘red rain’ is a euphemism for?”

Brick swallowed.

“SCROLLS SAY DARK PRINCESS LIKE PRINCESS OF NIGHT BUT NOT SAME,” repeated Tormand.

“Chieftain Tormand, what… what exactly did this ‘Dark Princess’ do to ‘make dragons gone?’”

“YAK WILL NOT SPEAK MORE OF THIS. YAK WORK. YAK PAY DEBT. YAK CAN FORGET.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over their table. Even the surrounding yaks had grown quiet, their usual boisterous energy dampened. Brick noticed that several of them were touching the small tokens hanging from their necks.

Martha cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should discuss something else. Like the progress of the foundation—”

“ENOUGH TALK!” Tormand’s sudden bellow made them both jump. “NIGHT COME SOON. YAK SLEEP WITH HERD, PONY SLEEP IN AIRSHIP.”

The abrupt change of subject wasn’t subtle, but Brick couldn’t blame them. He glanced across the gathering to where Melody was still chatting animatedly with Guntram, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just transpired. Hammerhead, however, had approached their table as well. He stood rigid—his one good eye fixed on them. As usual, Brick couldn’t read his expression, but it looked like the captain had overheard them.

As the yaks began clearing the tables, Martha nodded towards the captain and whispered to Brick, “Do you think our dear captain knows what Luna did to get rid of the dragons?”

Brick shrugged. “No idea, but I hate the feel of this. Let’s focus on the project for now and see if we get more out of the yaks—or Hammerhead—later.”

Martha’s expression was grim. “In all my years of trading with the yaks, I’ve seldom seen them this anxious. Our dear princess must’ve left quite an impression.” She shook her head. “Who is this pony we are working for? Who is she, really?”

After rounding up the team, they walked back to the Audacity quietly, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Even Melody’s usual chatter had died down and she seemed tired, though Brick suspected that had more to do with the excitements of the day than anything else.

Before turning in, they made one final round through the ship. Their hoofsteps echoed differently now that her engines were silent, as if the Audacity herself knew what was coming. Brick’s hooves traced familiar paths along wooden corridors that had, in such a short time, become almost like a home. Tomorrow, they’d begin dismantling her—transforming their faithful vessel into building blocks, scaffolding and shelter.

They paused at the bridge, now dark and still. The helm where Martha had guided them through impossible odds. The spot where Melody had collapsed after her venture into the storm. The chart room where Hammerhead had knocked him out. He rubbed his jaw at the memory, though the pain had long since faded.

“She’s a good ship,” Martha said softly, running a hoof along the helm’s polished wood. “Saved our lives more than once.”

“Remember when we first saw her?” Melody asked, her wings brushing against the crystal-studded hull. “I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“Still is,” Hammerhead grunted. Coming from him, it was practically a sonnet.

Brick stood in silence, lost in memories. The storm that had nearly claimed them. The impossible passage through the Crystal Mountains. Meals shared around the cramped table below, going from strangers to... whatever they were now.

“Look at us,” Brick finally said. “Getting sentimental over a pile of wood and crystal.”

The others only offered some affirming sounds.

“Still,” he muttered, patting the bulkhead. “Bummer we have to tear her apart now.”

The ship creaked in response—probably just the cold setting in, but Brick chose to take it as acknowledgment. They’d asked a lot from this vessel, and she’d delivered them safely to the edge of the world. Tomorrow, she’d serve them one last time, becoming part of something even more ambitious.

They walked up to the port side of the bow and stopped there. Brick let his hooves dangle lazily over the railing, while Martha and Hammerhead stood behind and Melody hovered slightly above them. Brick’s gaze swept towards the sky, and he was amazed.

This far north, the night sky was a different creature entirely. The stars hung impossibly close, as if the curve of the world had somehow brought them within reach. Sheets of ethereal light danced across the heavens—greens and purples weaving through the darkness like silk caught in a celestial breeze.

The constellations were strange here too. Familiar patterns had shifted, stretched, or disappeared entirely beneath the horizon, replaced by arrays of stars that no Canterlot astronomer had ever bothered to name. Looking up felt like peering into another world's window—beautiful, but somehow wrong in a way that made the back of his neck prickle.

The moon painted the endless snow in shades of silver, creating a mirror that reflected the aurora’s dance, until it became impossible to tell where the horizon ended and the sky began. The effect was dizzying, as if they were suspended in the heart of some vast, glittering globe.

“Wow…” Melody’s voice yanked Brick back to reality.

He noted that the others had followed his eyes upward. How could they not?

“Luna sure went all-out on this one,” he said.

“Dear Captain Hammerhead,” Martha spoke without shifting her gaze, “I don’t want to pry, but what do you know about Princess Luna?”

“What do you mean?” Hammerhead grunted.

“The things ponies—and yaks—say about her. Are they true?” Martha asked somberly.

“I don’t believe any of these awful stories!” Melody interjected. “They just think she’s scary because she rules the night. But look at the beautiful stars. A pony who created something like this can’t be bad!”

“Princess Luna isn’t a bad pony.” Hammerhead sighed. “Not usually, leastways.”

Brick nodded. “Maybe that’s part of the job, y’know. Can’t have dreams without a nightmare now and then.”

After sitting in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Brick and his team made their way to their bunks one last time.

Dawn came too soon, painting the snow in shades of pink and gold. Brick stood before the Audacity, blueprint spread before him, marking which parts would go where in their new construction.

Using Martha as his interpreter, he gathered the yaks around the ship’s hull.

“We’ll start with the outer panels,” he explained, pointing to the seams. “These aren’t just decorative—they’re designed to come apart. Each section is numbered.” He traced the hidden markers with his hoof. “Once we have those, we can begin on the internal structure.”

The yaks nodded appreciatively—good engineering, it seemed, transcended culture. As Martha translated his explanation of how the cabins would be repurposed, Brick sketched a quick diagram in the snow: four rooms arranged in a cross formation, a central heating system at their heart.

“The coal heater goes here.” He pointed to the center. “Heat radiates to all four cabins equally. And up here”—he added a rough sketch of the ventilation system—“we’ll install a snow melt for fresh water. No sense in wasting heat that would escape anyway.”

While the yaks discussed the plan among themselves, Brick’s attention drifted to the excavation site. They had done good work—the terraced levels descended in precise intervals, just as planned. At the bottom, a perfectly level foundation waited for the first crystal placement. Support beams crossed at careful angles, ready to bear the weight of what they were about to build.

“YAKS UNDERSTAND!” Tormand announced. “YAKS TAKE APART AIRSHIP WELL.”

“Gently.” Brick made a delicate gesture that he hoped would translate. “We need every piece intact.”

In response, one of the yaks pointed at the ugly damage the mountain had inflicted on the ship.

Fair enough, my shaggy friend.

Martha added something in Yakish that made the whole group laugh.

“First things first,” Brick announced, switching into what he thought of as his construction manager voice. “Those navigational crystals and engines need to come off. Clear Melody, I want you to supervise their removal.”

While Melody directed the careful extraction, Brick organized another team to construct a simple storage shelter from the ship’s banged-up hull. They wouldn’t waste precious heat on storing supplies, but they needed somewhere dry for the coal, food and especially the crystals. Thinking of those broken overflow batteries after the storm still made him wince. They couldn’t afford to lose any more.

The balloon presented its own challenge. Its four gas cells still bobbed gently in the frigid air, anchored by ropes to the ground.

“We’ll keep three cells for emergency heat,” he explained to Martha, who relayed his words to the yaks. “But that fourth one...” He gestured to the balloon. “Our little storm adventure left us short of some insulation. I’ve run some quick calculations and I’m pretty sure it’ll be more efficient to vent the gas and just use the tarp as insulation.”

The actual construction started with Melody’s cabin. The plans were drawn up so that her cabin was the largest. It would serve double duty as her workshop, and they needed those crystals properly prepared sooner rather than later.

“Support beam goes there,” Brick instructed, pointing as two yaks maneuvered a section of the Audacity’s internal frame into position. “And mind those joints—they need to hold against thermal expansion when that heater gets going.”

The work proceeded with surprising speed. The yaks might’ve been rough around the edges, but they knew their craft. Even Hammerhead pitched in, his wings proving useful for managing the awkward angles of the ceiling panels.

By midday, the workshop’s frame stood complete, ready for its outer walls. Brick allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before turning to the next task.

“Now we just need to figure out how to keep certain griffons from finding excuses to visit the workshop,” he muttered to himself.

The work continued well into the evening. They couldn’t afford the luxury of spreading the construction over multiple days—they needed somewhere to sleep tonight. Since the Audacity’s cabins had already been dismantled, the airship wasn’t an option anymore.

“We’re losing daylight,” Brick called out, watching the sun sink towards the horizon. “Focus on the sleeping quarters and the heater. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.”

This far north, the summer nights were extremely short. Still, for the few hours they lasted, they were plenty dark and plenty frosty.

The yaks’ strength made quick work of moving the heavy cabin sections. Even so, Brick’s hooves were nearly numb from cold by the time they fitted the last insulation panel. They had lit the central heater an hour earlier, and blessed warmth was finally starting to seep into their new quarters.

At the time they put the first pieces of coal in the heater, Brick had imagined a countdown starting. Seventy-three days of coal left. Ten days’ worth of gas.

“Not exactly luxury accommodations,” he muttered, surveying their hastily assembled shelter. The four cabins were crude compared to their original state in the Audacity, but they would keep out the cold. More importantly, they would keep them alive.

After they finished the work on the cabins, Martha immediately began organizing their supplies. Hammerhead did another inspection of the security measures. Melody, despite looking oddly drained, still managed a flutter of excitement as she headed towards her workshop.

“The sooner we get settled,” she called over her shoulder, her voice weary but eager, “the sooner I can start aligning the crystals!”

The next morning, Brick was awakened by the sound of crystal against crystal—a clear, sharp noise that set his teeth on edge. When he stuck his head in Melody’s cabin, he found her already at work. She was surrounded by various crystals arranged in patterns he couldn’t begin to understand.

“Everything alright in here, kid?”

Melody startled at his voice, nearly dropping the crystal she was holding. “Oh! Mr. Brick! Yes, everything’s... well, no, actually.” She set down the crystal like it was an injured animal in need of the most tender care.

“The resonance patterns are fascinating,” Melody told him. “It’s just like Mom described in her notes, but also... different. Somehow.”

Brick kept forgetting that this whole project was the brainchild of her mother, Dr. Crystal Melody.

“Different how?” Brick asked, noting how her eyes kept darting back to the crystal.

“I’m not sure yet. The base frequencies align perfectly, but there’s something else. Like an echo, but not quite.” She frowned. “I should check the harmonics again...”

“Take all the time you need, but just so you know, the foundation is ready for the first crystals. We can install them whenever you got them ready.”

“That’s great, Mr. Brick.” Melody chirped. “I just have to figure out this echo issue and then we can start building the array.”

“It’s time for breakfast,” Brick said, but she was already back at work.

“Just one more test,” she mumbled.

Brick made his way to their makeshift dining area. The small table—cobbled together from storage crates—barely fit in the space between their cabins. Martha and Hammerhead were already there, hunched over their breakfast. Steam rose from their bowls of oats before dissolving in the crisp morning air.

“Melody’s not joining us?” Martha asked.

“Just one more test.” Brick shrugged. “Apparently.”

“The poor dear looks absolutely exhausted.” Martha’s usual cultivated accent softened with concern. “I left some tea outside her workshop yesterday and found it frozen solid this morning.”

Hammerhead grunted. “Stayed up past midnight, started work before dawn.”

“Remember how nervous she was in Canterlot?” Martha stirred her oats absently. “All that talk about being afraid to fail. I wonder if the pressure is getting to her.”

“Maybe,” Brick said slowly. “But something else feels off. You know what’s strange? For somepony working on her mother’s project, she barely mentions her.”

“The great Dr. Crystal Melody.” Martha nodded. “I looked her up before I joined up. Brilliant mare by all accounts, but...” She hesitated.

“But?” Hammerhead prompted.

Martha started to speak, but a series of coughs interrupted her. After clearing her throat, she answered, “Well, there wasn’t much about her personal life. Just her work. Pages and pages about crystal harmonics, but nothing about her daughter.”

“You could order her to limit her working hours,” Hammerhead suggested to Brick, though his tone implied he knew how well that would go over.

“Oh yes, because you’re so good at following orders concerning rest yourself,” Martha replied with a pointed look at his eyepatch. She turned back to her tea. “No, what she needs is... well, support. Understanding.”

“Understanding won’t help if this becomes a habit and she works herself to death,” Brick muttered.

“Then we’ll just have to be clever about it, won't we?” Martha stood up. “I think I know a recipe for yakish dumplings that might tempt her. Something she can eat while working...”

“And I’ll check her cabin,” Brick added. “See if there’s a way to make her workspace more efficient. Give her less running around to do.”

They both looked at Hammerhead expectantly.

“I’ll keep my eye on the griffon. Something’s off about that fella,” the captain grumbled. He jabbed his spoon into his oats like they had personally offended him.

“What makes you say that?” Brick asked, amused.

“His Griffish accent is strange. Griffons don’t just ‘wander off’ from home. He gives me the creeps.”

“Fair enough,” Martha sighed. “Though I must admit, she did seem happy when she was with him.”

A screeching crystalline sound from the workshop made them all wince.

“One thing’s for certain,” Brick said, pushing away from the table. “We need to nip this in the bud before it becomes a problem. Can’t have Melody burning herself out.”

“Or breaking something that can't be fixed,” Hammerhead added quietly.

Three days passed like they were treading water. The yaks kept the site ready, Martha managed supplies, Hammerhead patrolled, and Brick... Brick waited.

He found Melody at her workbench again, surrounded by complex diagrams scratched onto every available surface. Her wings twitched arrhythmically as she traced patterns in the air that only she could see.

“Progress report?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“The frequencies...” Melody rubbed her temples with her hooves. “They’re wrong. Or right, but... wrong at the same time. Like a song played in two keys at once.”

“That’s not possible, is it?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Her wing knocked over a stack of her mother's notes. She didn’t seem to notice. “The emotional resonance patterns are exactly as Mom described. Perfect, actually. But there’s something else layered underneath. Something that shouldn’t be there.”

The crystal in front of her pulsed with an inner light that cast shadows where there shouldn’t have been any.

Brick picked up the fallen papers. “Could it be interference from the environment?”

“No, no, it’s deliberate. Precise. Like...” She paused, her ears flattening. “Like someone designed the crystals to carry something else entirely.”

“And that’s bad?”

“It’s...” She swallowed hard. “What’s the evilest spell you have heard of?”

Brick scratched the stubble on his chin. “I’ve heard of some spells that can supposedly make another pony do whatever you want them to do.”

Melody nodded. “Could’ve been Fiducia Compelus, Cogeria or even Persuadere. Doesn’t really matter.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Imagine being able to transmit those across all Equestria. Affecting each and every single pony.”

A shrill crack from one of the crystals made them both jump. Melody quickly covered it with a cloth, but not before Brick caught a glimpse of strange patterns dancing across its surface.

“We can’t install them until I understand what’s happening.” Her tone was firm. “The potential for abuse is...” She shuddered and glanced around as if the walls themselves might be listening.

“How long do you need?”

Melody glanced at her diagrams, then at the crystals, then back to her notes. The dark circles under her eyes seemed to deepen. “I don't know. But we can’t rush this. We just can’t.”

Something in her voice made Brick’s spine tingle. He’d heard panic before, seen fear. This was different. This was the voice of someone who had glimpsed something terrible and couldn’t look away.

“Take the time you need,” he said. “But kid? Try to get some sleep. Whatever’s in those crystals will still be there in the morning.”

She nodded absently, already turning back to the diagrams.

Brick left her workshop with an uneasy feeling in his gut. He’d traveled here to build something. Stack some materials. Slap on some paint. Job done. Why should he worry about what would be done with it?

If you build an office, you don’t worry about ponies committing tax fraud inside.

Still, he knew what Quick Sketch would’ve thought of this. She wouldn’t have ignored it. She would’ve cared.

Brick shut that thought down. It was easy enough because the countdown lurked in his mind. Sixty-nine days of coal. Ten days of gas. The foundation was still as empty as it had been when they arrived. He wanted to give Melody time, but they really needed to get going soon.

Lost in thought, Brick nearly collided with an impromptu delegation. Martha stood with Tormand and some older yaks, while Hammerhead and Guntram lingered at the edge of the group, feathers ruffling from the cold wind.

“HOW IS CRYSTAL PONY?” Tormand’s voice, though still thunderous, carried an edge of anxiety. “CRYSTALS READY SOON?”

Martha added something in Yakish that made the older yaks nod vigorously. Through Hammerhead’s translation, Guntram echoed their sentiment. “We’re all eager to begin the real work.”

“She needs more time,” Brick said. The yaks’ shoulders slumped in unison and he held up a defensive hoof. “The crystals are... complicated.”

“MORE TIME?” Tormand exchanged worried glances with his companions. “BUT COLD COMES. WINTER COMES.”

“Time is indeed becoming a factor,” Martha added diplomatically. “Perhaps if we could offer some assistance—”

“CRYSTAL PONY WORK ALONE,” one of the younger yaks blurted out. “NOT EAT. NOT SLEEP. NOT GOOD.”

Guntram stepped forward, and something about his movement made Brick’s coat bristle. The griffon’s expression looked like genuine concern, but that focused gleam in his eyes set off warning bells. Guntram opened his beak to speak, but Brick was faster.

“No,” Brick said, more sharply than he’d intended. “She needs to focus. No distractions. Unless any of you lovely creatures has a diploma in crystallography, I’ll need you to let ‘Crystal Pony’ work in peace.”

The group dispersed reluctantly—the yaks to their endless preparation of the site, Martha to another inventory of the storage shelter, Guntram to wherever he went when he wasn’t hovering around Melody’s workshop. But Brick felt their anxious displeasure linger behind them, hovering in the air like frost.

He watched them go, the countdown ticking louder in his head. They were all feeling it—the pressure of time, of winter, of obligations that needed to be met.

But Melody's whispered warnings echoed in his mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that rushing her would be far more dangerous than any amount of delay.

The following days fell into an uneasy pattern. The yaks grew more restless and the sounds from Melody’s workshop grew increasingly erratic. Sometimes they’d hear her work deep into the night, other times there was nothing but silence for hours.

One quiet morning, Brick thought she might finally be getting some sleep. But as hours stretched into a full day of silence, he grew worried. Even Martha’s carefully prepared meals returned uneaten.

When he caught one of the younger yaks anxiously touching his protection token while hurrying past the workshop, Brick decided enough was enough.

After gathering Martha and Hammerhead, he knocked on the door of her cabin. As expected, there was no response. When he opened the door, he found her workshop in disarray. This was more than disorder. This was chaos.

Melody sat in the middle of the mess, surrounded by crystals and diagrams. Her calculations covered every surface—walls, floor, even the ceiling—creating a dizzying maze of mathematical fury.

“Melody…?”

When the pegasus didn’t respond, he tried again with more force.

“Melody, this can’t go on. We tried to give you space, but you need to talk to us.” He took a deep breath. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. But not if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Finally, Melody turned towards them. Her big, sad eyes welled up with tears. Brick had to fight the urge to hug her tight and tell her that everything would be ok.

“Do you know what our crystal array is supposed to do?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. “It’s meant to spread love and harmony. The positive emotions of ponies, collected, amplified, and transmitted across Equestria. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She stood up and walked to a chalkboard, pointing at a frequency diagram, its lines smooth and elegant. “There's a ‘focus’ crystal at the heart of the system. It filters out any unwanted emotions and keeps only the good ones before they reach the rest of the array.”

“Right. Following you so far.”

“But that’s not all it can do.” Her voice cracked. She pointed to a second diagram, this one jagged and chaotic. “The crystals have been crafted to carry a second band of frequencies. Not emotional ones. Magical ones.”

“How’s that even possible?” Martha interjected.

Melody laughed, a sound with no humor in it. “Magic, emotions, sound... They’re all connected. Different expressions of the same principles. Having a crystal transmit emotions and magic? It’s not hard, if you know what you're doing.”

“Kid, you’re starting to lose me,” Brick said. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that once this array is active, anypony with enough power could use it to transmit any spell they wanted. Across all of Equestria. All at once.” Her wings trembled. “Can you imagine what that means? What somepony could do with that?”

The implications hit Brick like a physical blow. Sleep spells. Fear spells. Mind control. Worse.

Brick didn’t count himself as a beacon of morality, but building magical superweapons wasn’t the same as defacing statues or burning down empty buildings. Magical superweapons were simply not part of the good path. Although he had chosen to leave the good path behind, he liked to imagine he could at least still see it, in the distance, if he squinted.

Melody shook her head. “However, it’s not that easy. Transmitting emotions works well enough in a self-sustaining cycle. But magic? You need an external power source. A massive external power source. The equivalent of an army of regular ponies, or a handful of exceptionally powerful mages, or…”

“… or one really, really powerful pony,” Brick finished for her.

“Only an alicorn could—” Martha stopped herself, but Brick heard the unspoken name.

“Mom’s notes never mentioned this capability,” Melody continued. “She wrote pages and pages about emotional resonance, but this?” She gestured at the chaotic diagram. “This was hidden. Carefully hidden.”

One by one, their gazes turned towards Hammerhead, who had remained silent for the whole conversation.

“Captain Hammerhead”—Melody sniffed—“did my mother lie to me? Did… the princess lie to me? They know I can hear the crystals. Did they think I was stupid?”

Hammerhead dropped his head. “Melody, nopony thinks you are stupid.

“If I knew about this capability, do you imagine that I would be at liberty to discuss it?”

“Fine. But ask yourself this: Does Celestia know about it? Does she approve of it?” Brick snarled. “I suspect there’s a reason why you’re standing here and not some Night Guard fanatic.”

The captain didn’t react.

“And while you ask yourself where your real loyalty lies, you can give ‘Pony who makes red rain in the night’ a message from me. Either she clears up this little misunderstanding and apologizes to my crystallographer, or her little project is never getting built. Not by me, at any rate.”

Both Martha and Melody gave a small nod.

“Our purpose here is to oversee and complete the project. You are exceeding your authority,” Hammerhead growled.

Martha moved in front of the captain with deliberate slowness, like someone approaching a cornered animal. The usual playful lilt had vanished from her voice, replaced by something harder. She and Hammerhead locked eyes—her steady gaze against his weathered one.

“My dear captain,” she said, and for once the endearment carried no trace of affectation, “you know Princess Luna better than any of us.” She took another step closer. “Do you really trust her with this kind of power?”

The muscles in Hammerhead’s jaw worked silently. For a moment, Brick thought he saw something flicker behind that one good eye.

Hammerhead sighed. “I will inform her that you are not willing to complete the project until this issue has been resolved.”

Brick bumped his shoulder and gave him a slight smile. “That’s all we ask, big guy. I know this is hard for you.”

“What should we do about the crystals in the meantime?” Melody mumbled from behind him.

When Brick turned around, his heart lifted just a bit. A shadow of her smile tugged her lips upward. She looked terrible, and the realization shocked him to an extent he didn’t understand himself.

But the smile. At least it was something.

“Maybe there’s an explanation for this. We really do need to get going,” Brick said. “Let’s continue with the project as planned for now. But if somepony is planning to use Project Eternity as a weapon, I will personally torch this site to the ground.”

Author's Note

As usual, many thanks to mellon for their amazing work with editing and proofreading this chapter

Intermission: The Final Nightmare

He walked.

The world before Burnt Brick stretched endlessly in shades of rust and decay. Dead trees reached towards a bruised sky with twisted, blackened limbs. Their branches ended in sharp points that tore at the heavens like claws. A full moon hung impossibly large on the horizon, its pale light casting long shadows that writhed and shifted when he wasn’t looking directly at them.

He walked.

His hooves made no sound as they struck the ground. The earth beneath them felt wrong somehow—not quite solid, not quite real. Like walking on memories of earth rather than earth itself. Each step identical to the last, yet somehow taking him nowhere at all.

He walked.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice falling flat in the stale air. No echo. No response. Just the endless expanse of wasteland stretching out before him.

He walked.

The trees all looked the same. Or maybe they were the same tree, repeating endlessly as he passed. He tried counting them, but the numbers slipped away like ash in the wind. Had he passed a hundred trees? A thousand? One tree, a million times?

He walked.

The moon never moved; the shadows never settled. His legs should have been tired by then, but fatigue, like everything else in this place, felt distant and unreal. Only the endless march of skeletal trees marked whatever progress he made. Time had no meaning here.

He walked.

“If this is some kind of metaphor,” he muttered to nopony in particular, “it’s a bit heavy-hoofed, don’t you think?” His voice sounded strange in his ears, like it was coming from very far away. How long had it been since he’d spoken? Minutes? Years? An eternity?

He walked.

Something shifted in his peripheral vision. A flash of midnight blue against the perpetual twilight. When he turned his head, there was nothing there. Just more trees. More wasteland. More walking.

Another movement, this time accompanied by the soft rustle of feathers. He spun around, but again found only empty air and twisted trees. The sound of his rapidly beating heart seemed impossibly loud in the oppressing silence.

“Alright, Your Royal Spookiness,” he called out, forcing bravado into his voice. “If you wanted to chat, you could have just sent a letter like a normal pony.”

A laugh echoed through the wasteland—a sound like wind chimes made of icicles. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“But we are not normal ponies, are we, Burnt Brick?”

He looked up.

There, perched on the highest branch of a particularly gnarled tree, sat Princess Luna. Her form was different here—more predatory, more alien. Her wings spread wide, their feathers like drawn daggers. Her eyes glowed with an inner light that fell cold upon the world. In the gaze of those piercing eyes, he felt as light and thin as a piece of paper. Completely transparent.

“Is this my subconscious? Nice place I’ve got here,” Brick said, gesturing at the desolate landscape while trying to keep his hoof from trembling. “Could use a bit of color. Maybe a nice rug.”

Luna’s laugh came again, shriller this time. “You hide behind humor, little pony. But we can taste your fear like it’s our own.” She tilted her head at an impossible angle. “Your anger is our anger. Your grief is our grief.”

“Get out of my head.”

“We are not in your head, little pony. You are in ours.” Her wings rustled again—a sound like those feathery knives were being sharpened. “And we have brought you here because you demanded an audience.”

Brick swallowed. “I want to know the true purpose of Project Eternity. Otherwise, there will be no project.”

From on top of her tree, Luna raised her chin. “And you supposed the night would bend to the will of a mortal.”

“Yeah…?” The notion now seemed ridiculous to Brick.

“Well then, little pony”—Luna grinned manically—“plead your case.”

Brick squared his shoulders, meeting her unnatural gaze. “I wanna know about the part where you lied to everypony. Where you’re building some kind of magical superweapon and don’t even have the decency to tell the pony who’s making it possible.”

“Ah, yes. Young Melody.” Luna’s expression softened fractionally. “So much like her mother, and yet so different. So gifted. So... idealistic.”

“She trusts you. She loves you.”

“And she will continue to trust us, once she understands.” Luna’s voice took on an edge. “Once you all understand.”

“Understand what?” Brick demanded. “That you’re planning to use this thing to what—take over Equestria?”

Luna’s laugh this time was almost gentle. “Oh, little pony. Are we not already one of the rightful rulers of this land? Besides, if that were our goal, do you not think we would have chosen different ponies? Ponies loyal to us?”

She spread her wings wider, and for a moment, they blocked out the entire sky. “No, little pony. Your distrust was one of your best qualifications for this venture.”

“Then tell me the truth,” Brick said. “All of it. Or I swear by Celestia’s sun, I’ll burn the whole project to the ground. You know damn well I’d do it. I’m crazy.”

Luna was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice carried the weight of centuries.

“The truth? The truth is that power untamed destroys all it touches. The truth is that progress unchecked leads to ruin. The truth is that sometimes, to save something you love, you must clip its wings.”

She launched herself from her perch, landing before him with impossible grace. Up close, she seemed both more and less real—a creature of shadow and starlight given form.

“Whom would you be willing to sacrifice to save all creation? What would you be willing to destroy?”

“I’m tired of these riddles! I’m risking my life out here, aren’t I?” While Brick was able to keep looking into those sickly eyes, he took an involuntary step back.

“Good answer, but that wasn’t the question,” Luna said, closing the distance between them again.

“Just tell me what you plan to do with Project Eternity so I can wake up and you can go back to whatever it is you do.”

Luna put her hoof on his head with incredible gentleness—a touch that felt both burning cold and numbingly soft, like freshly fallen snow on bare skin. It carried the weight of moonlight and the chill of spaces between galaxies.

For a moment, Brick felt reality blur around the edges, as if that single point of contact was anchoring him to existence itself while simultaneously threatening to unmake him entirely. Through that touch flowed sensations that no pony was meant to comprehend: the slow dance of constellations, the ancient patience of mountains, the endless descent of night.

“In essence, the purpose of the Eternity Project is the one you have been told.” She moved her hoof underneath his chin, and tenderly lifted it up. “However, we have also ensured that we have a fallback option, should our plans fail.”

“Does…” Brick’s throat became dry like the world around him. “… does Princess Celestia know?”

Luna drew back her lips and flashed a row of razorlike teeth.

“We wonder”—her voice dripped with cold amusement—“what has the firstborn ever done to earn such loyalty, such trust? Did she investigate your partner’s death? Did she pardon your crimes? Did she offer you anything but indifference?”

Brick flinched at each question. He didn’t have an answer.

“That’s what we thought. But do not be concerned, little pony. We are above your love, your trust and your adoration. They mean nothing to us.”

Truly spoken like somepony who doesn’t care.

“Oh, please don’t keep your little quips to yourself. They do amuse us so.”

Did she just…?

“Yes indeed.” Luna removed her hoof from his chin. “Regardless, the firstborn is aware of the full nature of this project. Not only is she aware, but she is also the only living being with the raw power to fuel it on her own.” Mercifully, Luna took a step back. She grew smaller and her teeth flattened.

“You can’t activate it yourself?” Brick asked. He finally willed his legs to stop wobbling.

“Where our magic is subtle, her magic is direct. We spin the shadows of eternity; she commands the embers of creation. This is a task reserved for brute power.”

“I see,” Brick managed. “You said that this second purpose is a failsafe. A Plan B. What would happen if your original plan failed, and you didn’t have this failsafe?”

The princess spread her wings as to encompass the whole world. “Look around you, little pony.”

Brick’s eyes swept across the wasteland anew, and suddenly the layout clicked into place. He’d worked this valley before, back when it had been alive with birdsong and forest. Back when it had been part of the Everfree grounds surrounding the Castle of the Two Sisters.

Now it was... this.

He tried to convince himself that Equestria could never become like this. He almost succeeded.

“Do think about our question, little pony. What would you sacrifice to save creation?”

Before he could answer, the world began to dim. The last thing he saw was Luna’s eyes. For a fraction of a second, their white glow faded and revealed thin, dragon-like pupils underneath. Luna’s final words echoed through the darkness that swallowed everything:

“Think carefully, Burnt Brick. For when next we meet, we will demand your answer.”

Brick awoke with a gasp, his heart hammering against his ribs. The construction plans he’d fallen asleep over were scattered across the floor, and through his window, he could see the first hints of dawn painting the frozen horizon.

But in his mind, those eyes remained, and that final question still echoed.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know his own answer.

Like every morning, he visualized the countdown. Sixty-three days’ worth of coal. Ten days’ worth of gas.

Back to work.

Chapter 6: Waking Up

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

He sat in the storage shed, surrounded by crates and barrels that formed a maze of supplies. The wooden walls creaked under the constant assault of the northern wind. Through gaps in the damaged planks, he could see snow blowing in the predawn darkness. A lone torch cast flickering shadows that seemed to writhe like the ones from his dream. No—not his dream. Her dream. Her world.

His team was gathered around him, their faces illuminated by the fire’s glow. Martha perched atop a crate of preserved vegetables, her mane perfectly styled into a functional knot. Hammerhead’s bulk filled the doorway, his uniform as immaculate as ever. Melody sat cross-legged on the floor, her white coat glowing almost ghostly in the dim light.

“So,” Martha broke the silence, “you spoke with her.” Her voice sounded raspy.

Brick nodded. He fought back a shudder. “We had a wee chat alright. She also took my brain on a little field trip. It was real charming. Like having your skull turned inside out and scrubbed with steel wool.”

Melody winced. She leaned forward. “Did she...” She swayed slightly and caught herself on a nearby crate. “Did she explain about the crystals?” She hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they’d gathered, her wings twitching at random intervals.

“Whoa there, kid.” Brick moved to steady her. “When’s the last time you actually slept? And I mean really slept, not just passed out over your work?”

“I’m fine,” Melody insisted, but her voice lacked its usual sparkle.

“I’m fine,” Brick echoed sarcastically. “Kid, I’ve heard you say ‘I’m fine’ about a hundred times now. But let’s be honest, you haven’t been ‘fine’ ever since we got here. It’s like your work is sucking out your energy.”

“The crystals just… It’s like they know something is wrong.”

“Poor dear is just like her mother,” Martha murmured, then immediately looked like she regretted it.

Melody’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, dear. However, you must admit that your dear mother is known for her dedication. Perhaps a little too much dedication at times.”

“You don’t know her,” Melody muttered. “Nopony really does. Not even me…”

Brick didn’t know what to say to that, and apparently neither did the others. The shed settled into an uneasy silence.

Melody took a deep breath and her eyes refocused on Brick. “You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Brick. Did the princess explain about the crystals?”

“Luna didn’t content herself with a mere explanation.” Brick shook his head. “No, no, no. Not our Princess of the Night. She felt it appropriate to provide me with an extended tour of the apocalypse. Very, very extended.”

Brick caught a slight softening around Hammerhead’s eye. A barely perceptible twitch at the corners of his mouth. Weeks ago, Brick would’ve missed it entirely, but this counted as a sympathetic smile from the captain.

Brick walked them through his dream. The wasteland. Luna’s warnings about unchecked power. Her cryptic questions about sacrifice. With each detail, Melody’s expression grew more troubled.

“I too have seen the wasteland she showed you,” Hammerhead spoke up. “That’s what we’re trying to prevent. What both princesses are trying to prevent.”

Brick blew some air through his nostrils. “And how exactly will they do that?”

“The princesses are trying to contain Equestria’s… destructive potential,” Hammerhead answered quietly. “But if we become too powerful, if we can’t be trusted with our own future”—he leveled Brick with an even stare, and their eyes met—“then Eternity will set the clocks back to zero. Wipe the slate clean. Fresh start.”

“That’s horrible,” Melody squeaked.

Hammerhead shifted his gaze to her. “It’s the only way. Princess Celestia knows about it. She has always known.”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “Did she now? My dear captain, you didn’t think this was worth mentioning earlier?”

“I wasn’t permitted to. But since you know the secret now, there is no reason to keep silent.” Hammerhead shifted his weight—the smallest movement, but Brick knew that from him, it was practically a shout of discomfort. “I serve both princesses, but my first loyalty is to Princess Celestia. That’s precisely why I'm here.”

Brick glanced toward the Royal Guard and Night Guard patches on his uniform. The former did seem more well-worn.

“Because she wants you to make sure little sis doesn’t get up to anything too naughty?” Brick asked.

“Because Princess Celestia knows I would never do anything out here that’s not in the interest of Equestria.” Hammerhead’s eye gleamed in the firelight. “Princess Luna requested me specifically because she knew it would reassure Princess Celestia.”

“How comforting,” Martha drawled. “However, I take issue with my funds being used for this purpose. I don't recall ‘potential magical superweapon’ being mentioned in my contract. Looks like somepony’s going to get sued once we make it back.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Melody asked, surprise evidently overwhelming her exhaustion. “The contract?”

“A contract, my dear, is a promise.” For a moment, something raw and vulnerable flickered across Martha's face. “I did not get to where I am by letting ponies walk all over me, be they princesses or no. I do have my pride.”

“So… this is about your pride?” Brick pressed, not buying it for a second.

“It’s pride for what I do.” Martha slid off her crate and began to pace, her hooves making agitated clicks against the wooden floor. “I go where most dare not to.”

She turned to face the doorway, where the endless white expanse stretched behind Hammerhead’s silhouette. “Most ponies are content staying in their home, where it’s safe. But my kin are travelers and traders by nature.” Her voice wavered. “A lot of us don’t make it back once we go out.”

“Martha…” Melody started, but the jenny waved her off.

“Please, darling, spare me the pity.” Martha turned around with a flourish. Her smile almost hid the shine in her eyes. “But if we succeed here, it changes everything. No more lost expeditions. No more corpses in the snow. A permanent outpost, a safe haven in the Frozen North.”

Silence fell over the shed again. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath for a moment.

“And if it’s used to end the world as we know it?” Melody asked.

“Then I will have to trust the princesses that it was necessary,” Martha answered solemnly. She cleared her throat and somehow made even that seem graceful.

“If this really is necessary, why not tell us? Why hide it in the crystal matrix? Why...” Melody’s voice cracked slightly. “Why lie to me?”

Martha stepped forward, placing a gentle hoof on Melody’s shoulder. “My dear, sometimes those in power believe they’re protecting us by keeping us in the dark. That doesn’t justify their actions, but...”

Melody’s head dropped. “These crystals aren’t just tools. They’re alive, in their own way. They sing. They harmonize. You can’t just make changes like this and expect there to be no consequences.” She swallowed. “But if Princess Celestia believes in this...” Her voice became small, but there was a stubborn set to her jaw. “If both princesses agree...”

“Kid”—Brick sighed—“just because somepony powerful tells you something is necessary doesn’t make it right.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Melody’s wings flared. “But Princess Luna showed you what could happen.”

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

“We’re running out of time to debate this,” Hammerhead interjected. “Winter’s coming. The yaks are getting restless. Both princesses rely on us. We need to decide. Are we building this thing or not?”

For the third time that morning, silence fell over the shed. Outside, the wind still howled its savage song. Brick counted the days again in his head—sixty-three days of coal, ten days of gas. The numbers felt like a noose slowly tightening.

Brick found himself absently tracing a crack in the wooden floor with his hoof. In the old days, he never had to worry about things like this. Or at least, he never had to worry about them alone. A familiar ache tugged at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. Some decisions you had to make on your own.

“Screw it,” Brick grumbled, standing up. “I don’t trust that dream-walking princess farther than I can throw her, but we’re gambling with the end days in either case. Might as well trust the captain on this, stay out of jail and get justice for my partner. You guys in?”

He stretched out his hoof in front of him.

Melody rose as well, putting her hoof on top of his. “Princess Luna might have not been very honest, but maybe she did just want to protect us. Let’s do this for Equestria—for the princesses.”

Martha gave a polite chuckle before adding her hoof as well. “Whatever games our dear princesses may be playing, I’ve signed on to create a safe haven in the north, and that is what I will do.”

Their eyes turned to Hammerhead, who still hadn’t moved.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” Brick asked. “Didn’t you say Luna trusted Celestia to trust you to put her interest first, which means we can trust you?”

“Yes, but…” The captain gestured at their joint hooves. “Is that really necessary?”

“Please, Captain Hammerhead, do it for me?” Melody looked at him with puppy eyes.

Hammerhead groaned and mumbled something to himself as he walked toward them.

Just as he was about to add his hoof and complete the stack, a noise from the doorway made everypony turn.

“Entschuldigung.”

It was Guntram. The griffon stood there awkwardly, saying something in his sharp, guttural language.

“Oh, come on,” Brick moaned. “We were having a moment here?”

Martha nodded towards Guntram. “Captain Hammerhead, dear, you speak his language. Please, be so kind as to introduce us.”

“And ask him what he wants,” Brick added.

Hammerhead spoke in what Brick assumed was Griffish. The strange sounds seemed unnatural coming from the captain’s mouth. The only thing he could make out were the names of him and his friends.

Him and his team, Brick quickly corrected himself.

“Guntram von Grauhorst,” the griffon introduced himself with a slight bow.

Martha bowed as well. Brick only lowered his head by the tiniest of fractions.

The exchange continued. Guntram was wringing his claws and Brick thought he could hear worry in his voice. Hammerhead’s responses were clipped and formal.

Finally, the captain switched back to Equish. “Mr. Guntram says he is worried about Miss Melody. He’s asking if he can do anything to help.”

“What a surprise.” Brick rolled his eyes. “Romareo over here is worried about Miss Melody, is he?”

“Oh, Mr. Brick,” Martha drawled, “you were also young once. Let them be.”

Melody’s cheeks reddened. “You know I’m standing right here. Right?”

The griffon approached, took her hoof between his claws and said something in his language. Brick didn’t understand, but Melody’s face turned even more crimson.

Brick stepped past them and out the door. He yelled over his shoulder, “I don’t care what you get up to in your own time, kid, but I need those crystals ready yesterday. Chop chop.”

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

The workshop hummed with an energy that made Brick’s coat stand on end. Melody had cleared the center of the room, creating a perfect circle marked with chalk and arcane symbols. The first crystal—nearly as tall as a pony—stood within, its facets still dull and lifeless. For now.

“You sure about this, kid?” Brick asked, watching Melody arrange her tools. Tuning forks of various sizes, each carved from pure crystal, were laid out in a precise pattern around the circle. Melody herself looked healthier than the week before. Her expression was more vibrant again, but the shadows under her eyes hadn’t faded.

She nodded, though her wings trembled slightly. “The internal structure is already mostly aligned from the manufacturing process. I just need to...” She picked up the smallest tuning fork with her teeth. “...whakeh ith uph.”

Martha and Hammerhead stood at opposite corners of the room. The jenny held a cloth-wrapped bundle that Brick knew contained one of the overflow batteries. It wouldn’t help much if things went wrong, but it was better than nothing. The captain’s stance was rigid, his eye fixed on the crystal.

“Remember,” Melody said, her voice tight with concentration, “once I start, nopony moves or speaks. Any external vibrations could disrupt the harmonic patterns.” She paused. “And try to think happy thoughts.”

She struck the first tuning fork.

The sound was pure and clear, hanging in the air like frozen starlight. The crystal responded with the faintest of glimmers. It was more a suggestion of light than actual illumination. Melody moved in a slow circle, striking the fork at precise intervals. Each note seemed to layer upon the previous ones, building something just beyond the edge of hearing.

Brick found himself holding his breath. The air felt thicker somehow, charged with potential. He could have sworn the shadows in the corners of the room were growing darker, more substantial.

Melody switched to a larger fork. This one’s tone was deeper, resonating in Brick’s chest like a second heartbeat. The crystal’s glow strengthened. Patterns began to dance across its surface—geometric shapes that folded upon themselves in ways that hurt his eyes if he looked too long.

The next fork was larger still. Its sound made the floorboards vibrate. The crystal’s light pulsed in rhythm with the notes, and for a moment, Brick thought he saw something moving within its depths. It looked like smoke, or water. Or something alive.

Sweat beaded on Melody’s forehead as she worked. Her movements were precise, almost like a dance, but Brick could see the strain in her face. This wasn’t just physical effort. Something else was happening here, something that worked on a deeper level.

The final fork was massive, and its handle was wrapped in protective cloth. When Melody struck it, Brick felt the sound in his bones. The crystal blazed with sudden light, and in that moment, he sensed it: a song that wasn’t a song, a harmony that existed somewhere between sound and silence.

The crystal was waking up.

Melody’s wings spread wide as she moved through the final sequence. Her eyes were closed, but her movements were sure. She wasn’t just working on the crystal anymore. She was part of its song, guiding it, shaping it.

The light grew brighter. The song grew stronger. The shadows in the corners began to move.

“Almost...” Melody whispered through clenched teeth. “Almost...”

The unheard song reached a crescendo. Light burst from every facet, casting rainbow patterns across the walls. For one terrible moment, Brick thought he saw faces in those patterns—smokey grimaces with strange teeth that had never known true pony form, distorted into quiet screams.

Then everything settled. The light dimmed and the song faded to a gentle hum just below the threshold of hearing. The shadows retreated to their corners.

Melody dropped.

Brick rushed towards her. Her coat was damp with cold sweat, but her eyes sparkled with triumph.

“It worked,” she managed between heavy breaths. “It’s awake.”

“That’s great, kid.” Brick helped her to her hooves, trying to ignore how his own legs were shaking. “Real great. Maybe next time with less cosmic horror?”

Martha approached the crystal cautiously. “Fascinating. Simply fascinating. It’s not just glowing—it’s... breathing?”

She was right. The crystal’s light pulsed in a steady rhythm. The room felt different, though Brick couldn’t explain why.

Hammerhead maintained his position by the door. His eye never left the crystal. “Is it stable?”

“Stable enough,” Melody said. She dropped back her head and stared momentarily at the ceiling. “But this is just the first one. We need four primary crystals, plus the focus crystal, plus all the support structures...” She trailed off, looking even more exhausted.

“One crystal at a time,” Brick said firmly. “For now, let’s get this beauty to its new home.”

They’d prepared a special carrying frame, padded with the softest materials they could spare. Even so, moving the crystal was like transporting a beating heart. In this sensitive state, any sudden shock could trigger a chain reaction in the crystal. So every step had to be perfect, every movement precise.

As they maneuvered it through the door, Brick caught his reflection in one of its facets. For a moment, his image seemed to ripple and change. He saw older, younger, different versions of himself that might have been or might yet be.

He looked away quickly. Some things, he decided, were better left unseen.

Once outside the workshop, the group walked into a gathering of yaks. They seemed to sense that something momentous was happening. Their usual boisterous energy was subdued, replaced by something akin to reverence. They followed the crystal, maintaining a respectful distance.

As the team approached the foundation site, the crystal’s glow intensified. It was responding to something—the ley lines maybe, or whatever magical currents Luna had chosen this site for.

“It knows,” Melody whispered. “It knows this is where it belongs.”

Brick wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or terrifying.

The mounting process was delicate work. The seed crystal had to be placed perfectly within the foundation, its orientation precise to within a fraction of a degree. Melody directed them with quiet authority. Her earlier exhaustion seemed forgotten in the intensity of the moment.

When the final connection was made, the crystal’s hum changed. It became stronger, more purposeful. The sound came from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if the very air was vibrating.

“One down,” Brick said, trying to sound casual despite the chill running down his spine. “Three more to go.”

Martha gave a somewhat shaky laugh. “Oh, is that a—”

She was cut off by a coughing fit.

“You okay there?” Brick asked.

“It’s just the dry air.” The jenny waved her hoof dismissively.

“Alright. Enough talking,” Brick announced, turning to address the gathered yaks. “Time to get building. Kām śuru garau!”

The yaks’ eyes lit up at hearing their own tongue and the effect was immediate. The site erupted into motion. Work had been a long time coming—weeks of preparation had left the yaks eager for real construction.

Their endless preparation had paid off. Brick gave them some pointers and directed some of the more hesitant hoofwork, but their movements were well rehearsed and precise. It only took the yaks half an hour to ready the site. Then it was time for the building material to be joined with the seed crystal Brick and his team had just placed.

He watched in fascination as the yaks gingerly poured the first batch of building material on the crystal. The building material was itself a mixture of crystal and sand. The moment it touched the awakened crystal base, it changed. The loose grains cohered as if drawn together by an invisible force, becoming almost clay-like in consistency. It was perfect for molding and shaping, requiring only minimal wooden supports to hold its form.

The worksite had become a mess of organized chaos. Tools scattered across sawdust-covered snow, ropes and pulleys swaying in the wind, the sharp scent of fresh-cut wood mixing with coal smoke. The crystal’s steady pulse was just another part of the site now, blending with the rhythm of hammers and saws like some weird new piece of equipment. Brick breathed it all in. After weeks of mystical crystal nonsense and princess drama, this finally felt familiar. This he understood.

As he watched the pillar take shape, he remembered Melody explaining how it would all work. “The seed crystal doesn’t just give the mixture cohesion,” she had said, her wings fluttering with excitement. “It actually makes the new material part of itself. Like a body using food to grow new cells. This way, Eternity can grow and repair itself over time. All it needs is some appropriate material.”

“So, what, it’ll just keep growing forever?” he had asked. “Swallow up the whole North?”

Melody had laughed and shaken her head. “No more than you keep growing forever. Everything grows to the size it needs to be, then stops. Eternity will be the same.”

Already, he could see what she meant. Before placing the first crystal, they had positioned the overflow batteries at precise locations around the foundation. The batteries started to react to the growing pillar. Their crystalline surfaces began to take on the same pulsing glow as the seed crystal, becoming part of its network. The wooden supports would come down eventually, but the crystal array would stand for thousands of years, maintaining itself just as she had described. Hopefully.

However, until Eternity was actually ready, it was like operating on an open heart. Any magic around it was a risk. If there was too much for the overflow batteries to handle, it would cause a violent magical chain reaction in the main structure.

Boom.

Looking at the bustle around him, Brick felt something like pride. They would build four pillars, each anchored by a seed crystal, aligned perfectly with the cardinal directions. When joined at the top, they would form a spire unlike anything ever built in Equestria. But for now, he was content to focus on this first pillar, on the familiar rhythm of construction.

Melody leaned against Brick. He felt her shaking, but her face held a distinct note of pride.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the crystal she’d brought to life.

“Yeah, kid.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Beautiful and terrifying. Just like everything else worth doing.”

With the placement of the first crystal, a second countdown started ticking in Brick’s head. The last possible date for their airship pickup was in forty-nine days. If they weren’t done by then, they’d either have to stay the winter or the cold and their dwindling supplies would force them to abort.

Forty-nine days until pickup.
Sixty-two days of coal, ten days of gas.

They had a lot of problems. But now they had something else too. A crystal beating in time with the pulse of the world, singing songs not meant for pony ears.

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

“Rāmro kām!” Brick called out as Crompus maneuvered another support beam into position. The bulky yak’s eyes lit up at the praise. Crompus often had a nervous energy about him, but when he channeled it into determination, he was a dependable worker.

The first primary crystal had transformed their worksite. Its light drew the eye, making the wooden scaffolding around it seem both mundane and somehow significant. Even in the dim morning light, rainbow patterns danced across the snow where its glow touched the ground.

“You’ve been studying Yakish,” Martha observed, her breath freezing in the frigid air.

“Figured if they’re going to build my masterpiece, least I can do is learn how to say ‘good work’ and ‘be careful’ in their language.”

Brick watched as Grimhorn and Ingville worked in perfect sync to secure a crossbeam.

“Besides, it beats listening to Hammerhead’s scout reports for entertainment. Nothing out west. Nothing out east. Nothing out north. Nothing out south. Nothing, nothing, nothing but frozen fucking tundra.”

“Indeed. Though I must say, your pronunciation is positively atrocious.” Martha’s chuckle quickly turned into another coughing fit.

Brick made a mental note to talk to her about that, but right then, he had a construction to manage.

“Hey, Dromius!” Brick called to a particularly massive yak. “Timro chorī ko bihā kasto bhayo?”

The yak’s entire face lit up. “WEDDING GOOD! MANY YAK SMASH MANY THINGS!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Brick made another note to ask Martha later what exactly he’d said. He’d been memorizing phrases phonetically.

The construction itself was like an intricate dance. The seed crystal had to be encased in the claylike mixture to form the base of the first pillar. Everything had to be placed just so, to ensure the crystal remained stable.

“Hāmro kām rāmro huncha,” Brick said to Gruntwig, who was hesitating with a crucial support strut. Brick hoped he’d said ‘our work will be excellent’. The elderly yak had an artist’s eye for detail, but sometimes needed encouragement to trust his instincts.

Martha smoothly added something in more fluent Yakish that made Gruntwig’s eyes crinkle with pride. He proceeded to place the beam with flawless precision.

“You know,” Martha said quietly, “for a pony who claims not to care about anything, you’re remarkably good at this.”

“At what? Ordering them around while butchering their language?”

“At making them feel valued.” She nodded toward where Leroy—the youngest of their crew, barely more than a calf—was carefully measuring angles under Gruntwig’s guidance. “You remembered about his mother’s alfalfa cake recipe.”

“That’s rich coming from Lady ‘Oh I’m totally just in it for the money.’” Brick booped her muzzle. “It’s all just cold, calculating pragmatism. You make your workers feel special, make them feel respected. They’ll do anything for you.” He paused. “Also, those cakes are amazing. Think we can get the recipe?”

Before Martha could answer, a sickening crack split the air. One of the cross-braces had shifted, destabilizing an entire section of scaffolding. The filling material around the awakened seed crystal was already starting to shift. The crystal’s pulse quickened, its light flickering erratically.

Brick’s blood ran cold as he saw the strange shapes beginning to reemerge in the air around the crystal—those geometric patterns that shouldn’t exist in three-dimensional space, casting shadows that moved independent of any light source.

“Sāvadhāna!” Brick shouted, already galloping towards the pillar.

The yaks froze in place.

The scaffolding groaned as it shifted. If it fell on the crystal, the alignment could be thrown off completely. And an unstable crystal of this size...

Brick didn’t finish that thought. He launched himself at the nearest support beam, bracing his body against it. His muscles screamed in protest. The angry creaks of the wooden supports continued, but as long as he held firm, they wouldn’t collapse.

Through the crystalline facets, he caught glimpses of things that made his eyes hurt: those faces that were almost pony-like but wrong, landscapes that seemed to fold in on themselves.

“Dromius!” he called out through gritted teeth, “You’ve got the steadiest hooves I’ve seen this side of the Crystal Mountains. Think you can reach that brace while I hold this?”

The yak’s eyes widened, but he nodded.

The crystal’s flickering light grew more erratic, each flash accompanied by whispers that scratched at the edges of Brick’s consciousness. The words were alien, impossible—yet somehow almost comprehensible, like a half-remembered dream. Just as his mind started to grasp their meaning, something burst behind his eyes, and warm blood streamed from his nose.

Time for a desperate gambit.

“Grimhorn, Ingville—remember that tongba-drinking song you were teaching me yesterday? How about a verse or two? Nice and slow.”

The two friends exchanged glances, then began a deep, rhythmic chant. Other yaks joined in. Dromius moved in time with the song, his movements precise and controlled.

Martha caught on immediately. She added her voice to the chorus, her soprano blending surprisingly well with the yaks’ deeper registers.

Brick’s legs trembled with effort, but he didn’t dare move until Dromius secured the brace. Slowly, terrifyingly slowly, the strange manifestations began to fade. The crystal’s light calmed, pulsing in harmony with their voices.

By the time Dromius finished, Brick’s whole body ached, but the scaffolding was secure. The mystical geometries had vanished, leaving only the crystal’s regular glow.

Thank the stars. I can’t believe that actually worked.

“TINY PONY SMART!” Tormand’s voice boomed from behind them. “USE YAK SONG TO MAKE CRYSTAL PEACEFUL!”

“Nah,” Brick said, dropping to the ground and shaking away the sting in his hooves. “It was all you guys.” He turned to Martha. “How do you say ‘let’s take a break’ in Yakish?”

Martha relayed his words to the yaks, but Brick was busy wiping blood from his muzzle.

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

The first pillar rose steady and strong. No more crystal mishaps had occurred since that near-disaster three days ago. Brick watched from his usual morning spot as Tormand’s crew rotated off the night shift. The new safety protocols had cost them precious time, but better slow than spectacularly dead.

He pulled out his battered notebook, checking off another day. The numbers stared back at him: forty-five days until pickup, fifty-eight days of coal, ten days of gas. According to his latest calculations, they’d complete the project just days before the latest possible pickup date—assuming nothing else went wrong.

Brick snorted. In his experience, something always went wrong.

His gaze drifted to Melody’s workshop. Light spilled from beneath the door despite the early hour—she was already at it again. The strain of working with the crystals was obviously still wearing on her, though she tried to hide it. At least that griffon of hers made sure she ate regularly. Something still felt off about Guntram, but Hammerhead kept watch, and so far, the only crime the griffon seemed guilty of was excessive attention.

Brick took a sip of his steaming tea and let his thoughts shift to Hammerhead. The captain was late finishing his morning patrol. Usually by now he’d be landing with his customary “Nothing to report”-report. But today...

“Movement on the western perimeter!” Hammerhead’s voice cut through the morning fog as he landed heavily beside Brick. His feathers were crusted with frost and his breath came in sharp bursts. With all the overflow batteries they’d installed, Melody had permitted the captain to use his wings around the site. The batteries easily absorbed the emissions of his pegasus magic.

“Not more nothing?” Brick asked, but something in the captain’s stance made him reach for the spyglass.

“Large figure. Bipedal. About two miles out.”

Through the lens, Brick found it—a monstrous, white-furred creature standing motionless in the distance. Even from here, he could see that its eyes were fixed on their worksite.

“Somepony call Gruntwig. He knows all about this wildlife stuff,” Brick commanded.

After a few minutes, the old yak joined them, Martha and Melody in tow. Brick handed him the spyglass.

“Yeti,” Gruntwig said after he’d peered through it. The gray yak’s voice carried none of its usual bombast. “Bad sign. Very bad.”

The yak licked his lips. “Yeti feed all summer. Store fat. Sleep winter. If yeti down here now...” He shook his massive head. “Mean yeti not find enough food. Fat yeti is nice yeti. Hungry yeti dangerous. Very, very dangerous.”

“Can’t we give it some of our food?” Melody suggested.

Gruntwig poked Brick’s belly. “Yeti prefer different kind of food.”

“But it’s just watching us,” Melody said, her wings tight against her sides.

“For now,” Gruntwig agreed grimly.

“Captain Hammerhead,” Brick barked, “you’re our security expert. Can’t you… I don’t know… fight it off, or something?”

Hammerhead leveled a stare at Brick as he answered, “Once a soldier turns to violence, he has already lost the fight.”

“What?”

“Something my old captain used to say.”

Brick shook his head. “Please less philosophizing and more dealing with the problem at hoof.” He added with a grumble, “Also, that didn’t stop you back on the airship.”

The slate blue pegasus considered this for a moment.

“We can try to rush in and scare it off, but I can’t guarantee that we’ll all make it back. A creature this size is more likely to think that breakfast has decided to serve itself rather than run away. I figure it’s keeping its distance because of the worksite itself. Probably hasn’t ever seen anything like it.”

It was Hammerhead’s turn to shake his head. “Rule zero of fighting is to only fight when you absolutely must. Or when you know you’ll win.”

“Okay,” Brick mumbled, “putting that on the list of things we shouldn’t do.”

Hammerhead blew some air through his nostrils. “Let’s not overreact. The yeti hasn’t shown any sign of aggression and maybe it never will. Still, we need to be ready if it does. Safest thing would be to train up some yaks to fight together. Build up some defenses. Post guards around the clock.”

“Wonderful. That would only cost us time and material, both of which we lack.”

The captain shrugged. “You can also ignore it and pray.”

“Fine,” Brick groaned. “You can have Crompus and Dromius for their size and Ingville and Grimhorm because they work well together. Take that bloody griffon as well while you’re at it.

“But no more than two hours of training each day. I’ll create a guard rotation. Won’t help with finishing the project on time, but safety first and all that crap.”

“What about defenses?”

Brick scratched his growing stubble. “We got some spare materials in the shed. It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

Author's Note

As usual, huge thanks to mellon for editing and proofreading. Also huge thanks to the anonymous pre-reader from EQD for their endless patience and detailed feedback.

Chapter 7: Odd Harmonies

The morning sun cast long shadows across Project Eternity’s worksite, its weak rays doing little to ward off the perpetual chill. Burnt Brick trudged through the snow beside Captain Hammerhead, their hooves crunching with each step. The captain had insisted on this inspection tour of their defenses, though Brick would have preferred to focus on construction.

“We’ve revised the guard rotation,” Hammerhead said, gesturing towards where Grimhorn and Ingville stood watch. “No yak patrols alone anymore.”

“Worried about them?” Brick asked, noting how the captain’s eye tracked every movement of the guards.

Hammerhead’s wings shifted restlessly. “They’re strong and they’re brave, but they’ve never fought anything like a yeti.”

“Unlike you?” Brick snickered.

“Once. Didn't end well.” The captain’s scarred face remained almost impassive, but Brick noticed the tiny creases around his eye and that ever-so-slightly upturned mouth. “For the yeti.”

Brick chuckled. “Well, it is impressive what your team’s managed with so little.” He gestured at the array of defensive measures before them.

The yaks had dug a series of trenches in a rough circle around the site, their depths concealed by carefully placed snow. Sharpened wooden stakes protruded at angles calculated to discourage any charging predator. What little scrap metal they could spare had been fashioned into crude but wicked-looking barbs.

“Your team too,” Hammerhead corrected quietly. “Unless you’re planning on returning to your life of pointless crime.”

“What, and miss seeing if these defenses actually work? Besides,” Brick said with a sideways glance at the captain, “somepony needs to keep you from doing anything stupidly heroic.”

“Like burning down a building to prove a point?”

“That was petty stupidity. Completely different thing.”

A grunt that might have been a chuckle escaped Hammerhead.

“In any case, yaks understand defense,” he said, steering them back on topic. “Their ancestors built fortifications against dragons.”

As they walked, the first crystal pillar loomed behind them. Its light cast strange patterns through the morning mist. The second pillar had started more slowly than planned—every worker diverted to defense meant slower progress on construction. Its scaffolding stood like a skeleton against the white landscape. The seed crystal at its heart had only just been installed.

“How’s the training going?” Brick asked, noting the packed snow and scattered wooden practice weapons near one of the larger trenches.

“Better than expected. Yaks work together well, as you know. And that griffon—he’s truly something else.” Hammerhead’s eye narrowed.

The wind carried the sharp scent of coal smoke mixed with the delicious aroma of po cha. Somewhere in the distance, a support beam groaned as it settled. The sound echoed oddly across the snow, distorted by the crystal’s constant hum.

“Those pit traps.” Brick nodded at carefully concealed depressions in the snow. “Nice work.”

“Dromius’s idea.” Hammerhead’s voice carried a note of pride. “If we can’t match a yeti’s strength, we can at least control where it moves.” He stomped a hoof. “Channel it away from vital areas. Away from...” He trailed off, but his gaze drifted to Melody’s workshop.

“You think it will be enough?” Brick asked softly.

“We have to protect them, Mr. Brick.” Hammerhead’s tone left no room for doubt. “For the sake of the mission and for their sake as well.

"How many days of coal left?" Hammerhead asked suddenly.

“Fifty-one,” Brick answered without hesitation. “Thirty-eight until pickup. Ten days of gas, same as always.” He scratched his chin. “The yaks are getting quicker. More efficient. Timeline is still looking very tight—”

A shout cut through their conversation. Ingville was barreling towards them. The yak’s eyes were wide with alarm, his breath coming in sharp bursts that froze instantly.

“CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN MUST SEE!” Ingville thrust a spyglass into Hammerhead’s hooves, pointing frantically at the western horizon.

Hammerhead raised the glass to his eye. His wings stiffened.

“Give it to me straight. What’s wrong?” Brick asked.

“We have another visitor,” Hammerhead grumbled. “The first one’s brought a friend.”

Through the lens, two massive white figures stood against the endless snow, their dark eyes fixed on the worksite. One yeti had been unnerving. Two were downright terrifying.

“Well,” Brick said after a moment, “I guess they liked what they saw.” He turned to Ingville. “How long has the second one been there?”

“JUST APPEAR. LIKE GHOST. ONE MOMENT NOTHING, THEN TWO YETI.”

“Good work, Ingville,” Hammerhead said, then turned to Brick. “Let’s not overreact. Our defenses are solid. Even if both charge, I believe we can drive them away.”

The yak gave a quick salute and returned to his post.

“Let’s find Martha and Gruntwig,” Brick said, already turning towards the center of the site. “If anyyak knows what this means, it’s him.”

They hadn’t gone far before something caught Brick’s eye. Near the first crystal pillar stood Leroy, the young yak’s form silhouetted against the pulsing light. His body swayed gently from side to side.

“Probably meditating,” Brick muttered as they passed Leroy. “Yaks do that, right? With all their...” He waved a hoof vaguely. “...mystical stuff.”

Hammerhead squinted at him. “Since when do yaks meditate in synchronization with crystal pulses?”

He was right. Leroy’s swaying matched the crystal’s pulsing beat. Brick wondered if Leroy was even aware of it. The yak certainly looked unaware, the way his eyes were closed with concentration, but he looked... happy. Blissful, even.

Brick started forward, but Hammerhead’s wing blocked his path.

“Later,” the captain grunted. “One thing at a time.”

Brick nodded, though the sight of the normally energetic youngster standing so still, so entranced, made his coat prickle. They found Martha near the storage shed, in the middle of another coughing fit.

“My dearest jenny,” Brick called out, “we require your linguistic expertise.”

Martha’s ready smile vanished as they explained the situation. Together, they located Gruntwig warming his hooves by one of the coal heaters, his gray fur ruffled by the constant wind.

When Martha translated their question about the second yeti, the old yak’s face grew grave. He spoke at length.

“He says yetis are usually solitary creatures,” Martha translated. “They stake out vast territories and defend them fiercely from others of their kind.”

Gruntwig continued, cloven hooves waving towards the horizon.

“However,” Martha went on, “there are stories of times when they gathered in small groups. Hunting packs.” She paused as Gruntwig added something else, his solemn voice dropping even lower. “He says such occurrences are rare... and always ended badly for any creature in their path.”

“Bit short on the details there. Can he give us anything else?” Brick shook his head.

Martha conferred with Gruntwig before responding. “There was a yak settlement, many moons ago. Small place, just a few families.” She swallowed. “They found it empty in early autumn. The snow was stained dark in places. Yeti tracks everywhere, but no bodies. Not one.”

Silence settled over them. Brick felt the familiar weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. Numbers danced in his head—two countdowns, and now, two yetis with the possibility of more.

Finally, he spoke. “Look, there’s a point where I have to call this off. Get us rescued before—”

“No!” Hammerhead’s powerful wings flared. “We can hold. We must hold.”

“My dear,” Martha’s voice carried an edge of steel, “what if more come? Can you truly hold against three? Four? Perhaps ten?” She shook her head. “There’s not only our lives at stake here.”

“We can hold.” Each word emerged from Hammerhead like a challenge.

Brick studied the captain’s face, saw the determination etched into every scar. He thought of Luna’s wasteland.

“I think we’re just gonna have to trust our security expert on this one.” Brick sighed. “But remember, we can't complete your princesses’ project while being eaten, so I trust you’ll make sure we remain un-digested. Right, Captain?”

Hammerhead gave a curt nod.

“That settles that, then.” Brick turned to Martha, lowering his voice. “While he plots our heroic last stand, there’s something else we should check on. Something weird with that little yak you keep bringing up.”

Martha squinted. “Leroy? What sort of weird?”

“The kind that makes my neck sweat. Come see for yourself.”

He led Martha back towards the first crystal pillar where Leroy still stood, swaying gently in its light.

“Leroy?” Martha called out delicately.

The small yak startled, his eyes snapping open. He looked around in confusion before focusing on them. “OH! SORRY! LEROY THINK HE HAS MORNING OFF. LEROY START WORK RIGHT NOW!”

“No, no,” Brick said as Martha translated. “We’re not here about work. I was just curious what you were doing here with the crystal.”

Leroy’s expression turned dreamy again. “MUSIC,” he said, then added something in Yakish that made Martha’s eyebrows rise.

“He says the music is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard,” she translated. “That it speaks to him of... some Yakish words I am unfortunately not familiar with.”

Brick and Martha exchanged glances. “Melody,” they said simultaneously.

They found Melody in her workshop, surrounded by diagrams and tuning forks. Her exhaustion seemed to vanish when they explained what they’d witnessed.

“Look, I like those crystals as much as the next guy,” Brick finished his explanation. “But we can’t have those things hypnotizing my construction crew.”

“Bring him in!” Melody chirped, already clearing space. When Leroy entered, she began arranging various crystals around him in a careful pattern.

“First,” she said, picking up her smallest tuning fork, “tell me if you can hear this.” She struck a tiny crystal, one that looked almost like glass.

Martha translated Leroy’s response. “He says it sounds like... like morning frost on new snow?”

Melody’s wings gave a tiny flutter and lifted her into the air a few inches. “Yes! That’s exactly what that frequency feels like!” She struck another crystal, this one slightly larger. “And this one?”

“LIKE WIND IN MOUNTAIN CAVE!” Leroy’s eyes were wide with wonder.

“Perfect! Now...” She selected a crystal that pulsed with a deep purple light. “This one’s tricky.”

Leroy closed his eyes as she activated the crystal. After a moment, he began to hum, a deep resonant sound. The crystal seemed to respond, its light pulsing in time with his voice.

“Incredible!” Melody exclaimed. “He doesn’t just hear them—he’s harmonizing with them!” She turned to Brick and Martha, practically vibrating with excitement. “Do you know how rare this is? Mom said she’d only ever met one other who could do it!”

Brick watched as Leroy continued to hum, the young yak’s face showing the same pure joy he’d seen by the pillar. An idea began to form.

“You know, kid,” he pointed out, “you’ve been working yourself half to death trying to manage all these crystals alone. And now we’ve got someone else who can actually hear them...” He gestured towards Leroy. “Maybe it’s time you had an assistant?”

Melody’s eyes widened. “Do you really mean it? But what about the construction schedule?”

“One yak less on construction duty is worth it if it helps you work more efficiently. And, let’s be honest, he’s not exactly the strongest of the bunch.” Brick turned to Martha. “That is, if you could explain to him what we’re proposing?”

Martha’s translation made Leroy’s face light up with elation. “LEROY HELP CRYSTAL PONY? LEROY MAKE PRETTY MUSIC WITH CRYSTALS?”

“He’d need training,” Melody said, but she was grinning. “Though somehow I think he's going to learn fast.”

Steam rose from Brick’s cup of po cha, the spiced butter tea a small luxury in their harsh environment. He sat with Melody on a makeshift bench near the second pillar, watching the yaks work. Their movements had gained a fluid efficiency that made his role almost ceremonial now. They anticipated problems before they arose, adjusted their techniques without prompting.

“They’ve really gotten the hang of it,” he said, nodding towards where Dromius and Crompus were carefully pouring the crystal and sand mixture around the second seed crystal.

“Mmhmm,” Melody agreed, her own cup warming her hooves. “Just like Leroy with the harmonics. You wouldn't believe how quickly he’s picking things up.”

“Yeah? How’s the training going?”

“He has such natural intuition for the crystal frequencies.” Her eyes lit up the way they always did when she talked about her work. “Though, we had a bit of an awkward moment when I had to ask him to remove his protection token. The little crystal in it was creating interference patterns with the other crystals.”

Brick remembered the tokens all the yaks wore. “He was okay with that?”

“Oh, yes. He said the crystal songs make him feel safer than any charm could.” She paused, watching the work below. “It’s nice having someone else who can hear them. Someone who understands...”

Her voice trailed off. Suddenly, she stiffened, her ears perking forward. Her wings slowly spread wide, each feather extending as if reaching for something Brick couldn’t perceive.

“Kid?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she stood and closed her eyes, turning her head in a slow arc. Her wings adjusted with each movement, reading the air like instruments. First east, where her right wing dipped slightly. Then north, both wings trembling. Finally west, where she held perfectly still for several heartbeats.

When she spoke, her voice was distant, as if she was listening to something far away. “The pressure’s dropping. Not just here—everywhere. Like the sky itself is holding its breath.” Her eyes opened, but they remained unfocused. “And there’s something else... a vibration in the air. The crystals can feel it too. There’s a storm coming.”

Brick turned his eyes upward. Only a few cirrus clouds marred the otherwise clear sky. The weather was remarkably calm—almost eerily so. The constant wind that had been their companion for weeks had died completely.

Hammerhead suddenly landed beside them with a heavy thump. His wings were rigid with tension.

“Miss Melody, do you feel it too?”

Melody nodded. “How long until it hits?”

“Hours at most.” The captain’s eye narrowed. “And it’s going to be bad.”

Brick shook his head, jabbing his hoof at each pegasus in turn. “No, no, no, no. This is some kind of practical joke, right? We’re not even close to the north’s storm season. There’s no way we can be this unlucky. It’s like Equestria itself is fighting us.”

As soon as Brick spoke the words, Melody’s eyes went wide. If her coat hadn’t been white to begin with, Brick was sure all color would have drained from her face.

“Everything all good there, kid?”

“Yes… I mean no. I mean; can you say that again?” Melody stammered.

“We’re not even close to storm season?” Brick tried, tapping his chin stubble.

“No, the other thing! About Equestria!”

Brick drew his eyebrows together. “Kid, I wasn’t being serious.”

Melody drew in a sharp breath through her teeth. “Um… actually… I really need to do some quick research.”

With that, she was off. Brick shot Hammerhead a confused glance, but the captain just shook his head.

“Deal with the storm first, Mr. Brick.”

The familiar rhythm of emergency preparations took over. He’d done this dance before, though usually with rain, not snow. And usually, storms were scheduled weeks in advance.

Brick looked around the site—at the exposed scaffolding, the delicate crystal formations, the precarious network of supports they’d built. All the weak points a storm could exploit. His mind was already racing through calculations, prioritizing what needed to be secured first.

“Suno! Listen up!” His voice carried across the site. “A storm’s coming. First priority is structural integrity. Dromius, Crompus—get me diagonal bracing on every major support beam. Sahaayak beem par vikarn bresing. Use any spare lumber from the storage shed. I want double-ties on each joint! Sanyukt par dabal sambandh!”

He trotted to the second pillar’s scaffolding, checking angles with practiced eyes.

“These crossbeams need reinforcement. Sudrdheekaran kee aavashyakata. The storm winds will create torsion and we can’t risk any twisting. Grimhorn, bring me those straps we salvaged from the Audacity’s hull! Jahaaz ke patavaar se pattiyaan!”

The yaks moved briskly as Brick continued directing. Where his broken Yakish failed him, he used gestures to make himself understood.

“The pit traps are a problem. They’ll collect snow and compromise the ground stability. I want them covered with the hull pieces we weren’t using, then sealed with packed snow around the edges.”

He turned to where the crystal mixture was stored. “Get all the building material into the storage shelter. If this stuff freezes solid, we’re done for. And clear all loose tools and equipment—anything that could become a projectile.”

“What about the heaters?” Hammerhead called to him.

“Good thinking. We need to protect the ventilation systems—snow blockage could cause carbon monoxide buildup. Ingville, take two workers and use whatever you can find to construct snow barriers at forty-five-degree angles around each vent. Leave enough space for airflow but shield them from direct wind.”

He studied the crystal pillars. What do the crystals need?

“Get those heavy tarps! The waterproofed ones. I want triple overlap on the edges and secure tie-downs every two feet. No flapping edges that could tear free. Check on all the overflow batteries—make sure they’re secure in their proper positions.”

“WHAT ABOUT DEFENSE LINE?” Crompus asked.

Hammerhead cut in. “The storm might actually help us there. The snow will reinforce the ice walls naturally. But mark the edges of the trenches with high poles, if we have any left—we need to know where they are after the snow settles.”

Brick found Leroy near Melody’s workshop. “Leroy, once you’re done here, help me check all the support ropes. We need to fix anything that’s frayed. Remember what I taught you about proper knots?”

“LEROY REMEMBER! TRIPLE LOOP, THEN THROUGH AND AROUND!”

“That’s my yak.” Brick allowed himself a small smile.

Within two hours, the site had been transformed. Extra supports criss-crossed the scaffolding in careful patterns. Snow barriers protected vital equipment. Every loose item was either secured or stored. The crystal pillars stood wrapped and reinforced.

Brick was double-checking the last of Leroy’s knots when Tormand approached, Martha at his side.

“TINY PONIES DO GOOD WORK,” the chieftain announced with clear approval. “NOW TIME FOR STORM TRADITION!”

Martha’s eyes sparkled as she translated the rest. “The yaks are inviting us to weather the storm in their communal shelter. Apparently, it’s customary to gather together, share food and drink, and tell stories until the weather passes.”

Brick glanced around the site one last time. They’d done everything possible to prepare. The first hints of clouds were appearing on the horizon, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Having everyone together would be safer, he reasoned. Also, after weeks of constant work and worry about yetis, maybe they all needed a chance to relax.

“You know what? That sounds perfect.” He stamped his hooves to keep warm. “Though something tells me we’re going to need a lot of that Tongba.”

“YAK PREPARE STORM CELEBRATION FOR PONIES. PONIES COME WHEN STORM COME,” Tormand announced.

“Sounds good,” Brick said. “That should give us about an hour. Let’s grab the captain and stop by the workshop. Melody was acting mighty strange before, and I want to see what’s up with that.”

They found Hammerhead doing a final patrol, his wings spread against the darkening sky. The captain landed, frost covering his feathers.

“Storm preparations are complete,” Brick informed him. “The yaks have invited us to wait it out in their shelter. Some kind of tradition.”

Hammerhead gave a curt nod. “Good. Better to have everypony in one place if things go wrong.”

“Great point, Captain. I’d never have thought of that.” Brick snickered.

As they approached Melody’s workshop, the door swung open. Guntram emerged, his red feathers ruffled in the cold. The griffon’s gaze met Brick’s for a moment. Brick raised a hoof to his eyes and then pointed it at Guntram in a clear “I’m watching you” gesture. The griffon merely dipped his head in acknowledgment before disappearing into the gathering gloom.

Inside, Melody obviously was in a full research frenzy, oblivious to their arrival. Ancient tomes lay open on every surface, their pages marked with countless sticky notes. Diagrams and calculations covered the walls, and in the center of it all sat Melody, mane disheveled, muttering to herself as she compared two particularly old volumes. The third seed crystal was pulsing lazily on her workbench.

“Kid?” Brick called out. “Mind explaining to our less gifted little brains what’s going on now? We’ve got some time until the storm hits.”

“Just a minute,” she replied without looking up. “I think I found something. Something important.” She flipped another page, her wings twitching. “It’s about what you said earlier… about Equestria fighting us...”

Martha shot Brick a worried glance before turning back to Melody. “My dear, you’ve been under considerable strain for quite some time. Perhaps you require a period of restorative—?”

Finally, Melody dropped the book she was holding. “No, don’t you remember? The ‘Whisper Conjecture’! It was in the notes about emotional harmonics I gave all of you.”

Brick eyed the floor. “Riiight. The notes.”

Melody gasped. She looked between each of them. “You haven’t read my notes? None of you?”

Brick was equal parts ashamed and relieved when the others also avoided eye contact with the young crystallographer. “Look, kid, there were equations in the abstract.”

Melody just covered her face with her wings and sighed.

Brick flared his nostrils in response. “Come on, who puts equations in an abstract?”

“They were just… If you’d only have tried to…” Melody took a deep breath. “Alright. Sit down, you all. We have time for a quick lesson.”

Brick raised a hoof.

“Yes, Mr. Brick?”

“Will this be on the test?”

Melody gestured vaguely around her. “This is the test.”

“Right.” Brick gulped. “Whoever fails freezes to death. No pressure.”

“Anyway,” Melody continued, a smile creeping back onto her face. Through the workshop’s window, the darkening sky cast ominous shadows across her diagrams. “What do you know about Equestria’s emotional background frequency?”

Brick plopped down on the floor beside the workbench. The honest answer was ‘basically nothing’. He glanced sideways. With its softly pulsing light, the crystal besides Brick felt like a dozing cat. Brick had to suppress the urge to pet it.

Martha raised her hoof, pausing to stifle a cough. “I believe all creatures emit emotional frequencies according to their dispositions.” She adjusted her position, trying to find comfort among the piles of books and papers. “The rough average of these emissions creates the background frequency. If creatures are generally happy, the frequency reflects that. Likewise, if they are sad, angry and so on.”

Melody’s wings gave a small flutter of excitement, sending papers scattering. She scrambled to catch them. “So you did read my notes!”

“Unlike some other ponies, I did some research on my own before joining this project.” Martha crossed her front legs. “And may I say, my dear, while your mother is undoubtedly a genius, your own papers are positively amazing. Judging from the parts I could understand, at least.”

Brick saw the blush blooming on Melody’s face before she hid it with her hooves. “Oh, Lady Martha, you’re just being nice.”

The jenny shook her head with the gravity of denying a serious allegation. “I’m doing no such thing. I’ve looked at some of the scientific materials. The long-term effects of manipulating the emotional background frequency were analyzed by you and your colleagues, not by your mother and her team.”

Brick took pity on the shuffling pegasus. “What are the long-term effects of manipulating the emotional background frequency?”

“Great question, Mr. Brick!” chirped Melody. “It’s important to understand that this background frequency affects everything in our world. The plants, the animals, the weather. Even us. If we succeed, and actually nudge this frequency towards love, Eternity could even initiate a virtuous cycle. A more loving world creates happier ponies. Happier ponies create a more loving world.”

Hammerhead stood like a statue by the door, his eye tracking the storm clouds through the window. “Which is why we must succeed. If the world is full of love, perhaps we can avoid eventually destroying it. And ourselves with it.”

The crystal beside Brick seemed to deepen its hum as another rumble of thunder rolled across the tundra. This new hum felt uneasy and irritated. If the crystal was a cat, then it had just arched its back and started hissing at the weather.

Brick scooted away a few inches.

“Exactly,” Melody said, though her wings drew tight against her sides. She rustled through her papers, eventually pulling out a diagram covered in complicated equations. “Frolick’s Law states that—”

Brick raised his hoof. “Quick question—did anypony else feel that? The crystal changed pitch when it thundered.”

Melody froze, her eyes widening. “You... you noticed that? You shouldn’t have noticed that. You must be more sensitive than I thought, Mr. Brick.”

He nodded towards the crystal. “Do you think it’ll be a problem?”

Melody thought for a moment. “It can’t be. The weather didn’t hurt the crystals on the airship. Besides, all the overflow batteries we’ve placed should easily absorb any small magical emissions from the storm.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Brick glanced outside again. “Not that we can do anything about it at this point.”

Melody gave a little shrug.

“Anyway,” she said. “Frolick’s Law states that, without any kind of manipulation, the natural emotional emissions of every creature must always be stronger than the emotional background itself.”

She took a moment to drink a sip of water.

“However, we know of many situations where such manipulations take place on a small scale. Think of ponies singing together. They instinctively align their emotional frequencies with actual music to create a localized zone of extremely strong emotional harmonics, which can have significant impact on the world and creatures around them.”

“In short,” Brick said. “When ponies are happy and sing together, that makes good things happen around them.”

“Yes.” Melody nodded. “That’s a good summary.”

“Makes you wonder why ponies don’t do that more often, then. At least the happy ones.”

“Well, this is where it gets complicated.” Melody sighed. “For one, this behavior is purely instinctual. Many have tried to force it, but none have succeeded.”

Brick clicked his tongue. “So, it happens when it happens.”

“Unfortunately, yes. You can think of these localized phenomena like ‘emotional weather’, while the emotional background frequency is like… the climate. The former is always temporary, local and can be manipulated. The latter changes only slowly and affects everything, everywhere.”

Melody paused for breath.

A quiet cough from Martha made everypony glance at her. The jenny fought for breath for a moment, but then she spoke. “Dearie, correct me if I’m wrong: Project Eternity is the first serious attempt to systematically manipulate the emotional ‘climate’ instead of simply manipulating the emotional ‘weather.’”

“Yes, that’s right, Lady Martha. This is where the ‘Whisper Conjecture’ comes in,” Melody said, pulling an ancient-looking tome from her pile. The binding crackled as she opened it, releasing a puff of dust that made Martha sneeze delicately.

“Sounds creepy,” Brick interjected, rubbing his hooves together against the cold. The approaching storm was adding a most unpleasant dampness to the perpetual chill.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with actual whispers.” Melody shook her head, her lavender mane falling into her eyes. She brushed it back absently, leaving a smudge of ink on her forehead. “It’s named after Dr. Ethereal Whisper, a pioneer in emotional harmonics.”

“Right, him.” Brick nodded sagely.

Melody huffed, but there was fondness in her exasperation. She turned a few more pages, then gestured at a particularly dense paragraph of text. “The Whisper Conjecture states that, logically, there should be natural resistance to any process that aims to manipulate dynamic systems that have evolved naturally. The emotional background frequency is such a system. The reasoning behind the conjecture is based on stable equilibrium theories.”

Outside, the wind picked up, whistling through the gaps in the workshop’s walls. Hammerhead’s ears pricked at the sound.

“Natural resistance?” the captain asked, his eye still tracking the storm’s approach. “Is that like a defense mechanism?”

Melody chewed her lip, considering. The crystal’s hum deepened again, making her wings twitch nervously. “Not quite—defense mechanism implies we’re dealing with a living thing, which isn’t really the case.” She grabbed a piece of chalk and began sketching on a clear patch of wall. “Think of it more like... think of a branch on a freshly dead tree.”

“A what now?” Brick blinked, watching her quick, precise strokes form a simple diagram.

“Stay with me here,” Melody said, adding more details to her sketch. “The branch doesn’t think, it doesn’t act, it’s not alive. But when you try to bend it and slip off, it will snap in your face. It will appear as if it’s fighting you.”

“So,” Brick said, squinting at Melody’s diagram, “the storm on the Audacity, the yetis and this storm are like...” He made a snapping motion with his hooves. “The tree of Equestria smacking us in the face repeatedly for trying to bend it?”

“Possibly.” Melody added a few more lines to her diagram, chalk scratching against the wall in counterpoint to the wind. “Though it’s more complex than that.”

Another rumble of thunder made the crystal’s light flicker. Melody paused her drawing, watching the patterns dance across the walls until they stabilized.

“But the first storm hit before we even placed a crystal,” Brick pressed, pulling his work vest tighter. “How could the emotional background frequency—or Equestria, or whatever—know what we were planning?”

Martha leaned forward on her crate. “An excellent point, my dear. How does one explain that?”

Melody’s wings drooped slightly. “The world is a much more complicated entity than a dead tree.” She turned back to her books, flipping pages with increasing urgency. “Also, it’s just a conjecture. Maybe we’re just—”

“Unlucky?” Hammerhead cut in, his voice carrying an edge. “Once is unlucky. Twice is coincidence. But this...” He gestured towards the window where the storm clouds were gathering like an army. “This feels deliberate.

“Thinking practically,” he continued, finally moving from his post by the door, “what can we do about it?”

The crystal’s hum had grown so deep Brick could feel it in his bones. Melody glanced at it before answering.

“Not much, I'm afraid.” She closed her books with careful precision. “At least, not until we’ve activated Project Eternity and overwritten the background frequency. Once we break through the natural resistance, it should stop… slapping us in the face. So to speak.”

Brick raised his eyebrows. “So, we’re basically breaking off a branch of the ‘Equestria Tree’ or whatever?” He gave a laugh that sounded off even to himself. “Sounds kind of... evil?”

The others winced. Even the crystal’s light seemed to dim for a moment.

“It’s only natural for ponies to manipulate their environment,” Melody said quickly, her words tumbling out faster. Papers rustled beneath her nervous wings. “We take care of our weather. We change the seasons. Before Princess Celestia and Princess Luna started guiding us, we even controlled the sun and moon.”

“Look, I’m not judging,” Brick murmured, though his eyes lingered on the crystal’s pulsing light. “I’m just saying, fighting Equestria itself?” He shook his head. “That’s kinda shady.”

“Are you having second thoughts, Mr. Brick?” Hammerhead asked, taking a small step towards him. “Wouldn’t want to ask Mr. Burnt Brick, to do anything shady.”

“No, no.” Brick raised his hooves and chose to ignore the barb. For now. “Way past that. I’m already on third thoughts. Perhaps fourth? Don’t get me wrong, I’m still in, but I want to remind the present company that there might be more stable ponies than Princess ‘Makes-red-rain-in-the-night’ to engineer Equestria’s future.”

“We’ve been over this,” Hammerhead growled, taking another step. “Princess Celestia agrees with this plan. And you as a convicted criminal should—”

A violent crack of thunder cut the captain off. It sounded awfully close.

Hammerhead nodded towards the window. “Time to pack up, ponies and jenny.”

Melody visibly deflated. Her wings dropped as all the energy seemed to leave her body. “But I didn’t even get to talk about how the Elements of Harmony relate to Project Eternity.”

The wind’s howl grew even louder. The captain nodded towards the window again, more insistently. “Will have to wait until the next class, I’m afraid.”

“Hold up!” Brick pricked up his ears. “The what?!”

“You really should have read my notes, Mr. Brick.” Melody shrugged as she gathered her papers, the crystal’s light catching the ink smudge still on her forehead. “But you heard the captain. It’ll have to wait for another time.”

He looked between Martha and Hammerhead for support, but they were already heading for the door, the wind tugging at their manes. His hooves fell limply to his sides. “The... what?”

The crystal’s hum followed them out into the gathering storm, its pitch rising like laughter.

The walk to the yak shelter, though brief, was a battle against nature itself. The storm’s fury turned the short distance into a gauntlet of stinging snow and biting wind. They moved as a tight group, shielding each other from the weather. Through the whiteout, the shelter’s entrance glowed like a beacon—a promise of warmth and safety.

The difference between outside and inside the yak shelter was staggering. One moment Brick was trying to keep the snow out of his nostrils; the next, he was enveloped in warmth that hugged him like a blanket.

It took Brick’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. The shelter was essentially a vast hollow carved into the permafrost, its ceiling a clever network of supports holding up thick tarps and packed snow. Ventilation holes dotted the structure, releasing thin streams of steam into the storm above while keeping the warmth contained below.

The air was thick with competing scents: the musky smell of wet yak fur, sweet incense burning in brass holders, and what smelled like every spice in creation simmering in heavy iron pots. Somehow, the combination wasn’t unpleasant. It was just overwhelmingly foreign.

Massive dungchen horns filled the space with deep, resonant tones that Brick could feel in his chest. Two younger yaks worked the instruments with speed and skill that spoke of years’ practice, their movements almost meditative.

Colorful fabrics hung from the support beams, their patterns catching and splitting the light from dozens of carefully placed lanterns. The effect transformed what was essentially a hole in the ground into something approaching a palace. Albeit one that smelled strongly of yak.

“Impressive,” Brick breathed. “The engineering involved in preventing collapse under all this snow...”

“WELCOME!” Tormand’s voice boomed over the horns. “COME! SIT! DRINK! STORM OUTSIDE, BUT HERE IS WARM!”

Looking at the gathered yaks—their thick fur adorned with intricate braids and metallic ornaments glinting in the lamplight—Brick had to admit there were worse places to wait out the disaster outside.

The storm’s rumble was barely audible here, drowned out by music and conversation. For now, at least, they could pretend the only thing they were fighting was the weather.

And pretend they did. Before Brick even knew what was happening, he had already toasted with several yaks and downed his first cup.

The tongba was surprisingly strong for something that looked like fermented tea. Its warmth spread through Brick’s chest, mixing pleasantly with the heat from the shelter and the deep vibrations of the dungchen horns.

He watched Melody and Guntram in their corner, heads close together as the griffon taught her what appeared to be some kind of dice game. Her laughter carried over the music, lighter than he’d heard since they’d arrived in the north. For once, he decided not to glare in their direction.

“MORE DRINK FOR TINY PONY?” Crompus offered, already moving to refill Brick’s cup.

“Sure, why not? Not like we’re building anything tomorrow after this weather.” He accepted the refill, observing how the yaks had arranged themselves in small groups, sharing stories and passing drinks. Some were playing games, others simply swayed to the music.

Hammerhead sat with several of the older yaks. The captain’s features had softened slightly—whether from the drink or the atmosphere, Brick couldn’t tell. He was visibly relaxing while they recounted what seemed to be epic tales of survival, judging by their dramatic gestures.

A particularly harsh gust rattled the ventilation holes, sending a shower of snow crystals dancing in the lantern light. Martha’s body convulsed with another coughing fit, worse than before. This time, she couldn’t wave it off.

“Alright, that’s it.” Brick moved closer to her, pitching his voice low. “You’ve been getting worse for days. What’s really going on? And don’t you dare try that ‘it’s just the cold air’ thing again.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t worry about—” Another cough shook her frame.

“No, I do worry about you.” Brick placed his hoof on her shoulder. “You’re always saying how Melody should take better care of herself. And here you are, ignoring your own problems.”

When Martha finally caught her breath, her voice was raspy and raw.

“Remember when I told you about that expedition? The one where we huddled in the dark, praying the gas would last until dawn?”

Brick nodded. He hadn't enjoyed it when she told her grim tale the first time. Now, surrounded by snow and ice himself, he found he enjoyed it even less.

“What I didn’t mention...” She paused, taking a careful sip of her drink. “There was a storm that night. Not like normal storms. It was... it was like the cold found cracks in your soul and poured itself in.” Her hoof trembled slightly as she set down her cup. “Ever since then, when it gets cold and especially when it snows...” She gestured vaguely at her chest. “It remembers.”

Brick shuddered. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? It’s insane to go on an expedition like this with such a condition.”

“My dear, what good would it have done?” Her smile was tired but genuine. “Besides, I’ve survived worse than a bit of winter’s revenge.”

“If you say so.” Brick put a bit more weight on her shoulder. “But remember, if you’re not around, who’ll bring Melody dumplings and tea?”

Martha smiled.

“TINY DONKEY MUST TELL STORY PROPERLY!” Crompus’s voice cut through their quiet conversation. “IS TRADITION! TELL ALL, SO ALL CAN LEARN!”

Martha’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”

“IS TRADITION!” several other yaks echoed, banging their cups for emphasis.

Despite her obvious exhaustion, Martha straightened herself. Even in illness, she was a brilliant performer. She began the tale again, this time in Yakish, her voice rising and falling dramatically. Though Brick couldn’t understand most of the words, her gestures painted the story clearly enough—the desperate huddle in the dark, the wind’s endless howl, the gradual diminishing of their heat source.

The dungchen players softened their music as she spoke, creating an eerie undertone to her words. When she described the cold seeping into their bones, she wrapped her forelegs around herself, and Brick could have sworn the temperature in the shelter dropped a few degrees. Her voice cracked several times, interrupted by coughs, but she pressed on, turning her weakness into part of the performance.

The yaks leaned forward, entranced. Even Melody and Guntram had paused their game to listen. When Martha finally finished, ending with a gesture that somehow conveyed both victory and lasting scars, silence fell over the shelter.

Then Tormand raised his cup. “YAKS WILL CHERISH YOUR WORDS AND KEEP THEM CLOSE. TASHI DELEK.”

“TASHI DELEK!” the whole room echoed back, and everyone took a drink.

As the applause and toasts for Martha’s performance died down, she turned to Brick with a glint in her eye. Brick immediately didn’t trust it.

“Of course,” she announced in a voice meant to carry, “we simply must hear one of Mr. Brick’s stories next. He has such... interesting experiences to share.”

“NO MORE STORIES FROM TINY DONKEY! NOW BUILDING PONY TELL STORY!” Tormand agreed enthusiastically.

Brick took another gulp from his cup. “Really, I don’t think—”

“BUILDING PONY! BUILDING PONY!” The chant spread through the shelter, accompanied by rhythmic stomping that made the lanterns swing.

Brick didn’t mind being a storyteller. Only trouble was, all his good stories were related to Quick Sketch in some way or another.

He took another sip of tongba. Only way out was through.

“Fine, fine!” Brick held up his hooves in surrender. “You want a story? I’ll tell you about the time I burned down Lord Brass Bits’ warehouse.”

After Martha translated his words, the stomping stopped. Even the dungchen players paused to stare at him.

“Now, first thing you gotta understand,” Brick continued, warming to his audience, “is that this stuck-up unicorn had the worst security I’d ever seen. Seriously, it was like he was asking for it.” He gestured expansively with his cup. “Second thing—he absolutely deserved it.”

Martha translated rapidly, her own eyes sparkling with interest despite her fatigue.

“See, the Royal Guard had just finished telling me there was no way somepony could have deliberately started the fire that killed my partner.” He glanced towards Melody. “‘Impossible,’ they said. ‘Implausible,’ they said.”

A familiar anger rose in Brick’s chest, and he noticed that he was gripping the wooden cup so fiercely that it had started to bend and was in serious danger of cracking.

Just as Brick felt like the anger was about to burst from him, he lifted his gaze and saw his friends looking back at him. Yes, they were his friends. Three cups of tongba deep, hiding from a snowstorm in a yak shelter in the middle of nowhere, he was ready to admit that. Probably it was the alcohol, perhaps it was something else, but just like that, his anger vanished.

He shook his head, placed a sly grin back on his muzzle and took on a mocking upper-class accent. “So, I figured, hey. Why not show them exactly how ‘impossible’ it was? A ‘proof of concept’, if you will.”

As Martha translated, the yaks leaned forward, clearly appreciating both the tale and its spirit.

“Spent three weeks planning it. Made sure the place was empty—triple-checked that part. I might be crazy, but I’m not stupid.”

He paused for dramatic effect, noting with satisfaction every head in the room was facing him. “Then I recreated the exact same conditions I suspected were used in our project’s fire. Down to the last detail.”

He described the technical aspects with professional pride, explaining how he’d calculated wind patterns and structural weak points. The yaks nodded amongst themselves. Good engineering was good engineering, even when applied to arson.

“Should’ve seen their faces when it went up.” Brick chuckled, though he himself could hear the edge in it. “Suddenly my theory wasn’t so ‘implausible’ anymore. Worth every day in the dungeons.”

He raised his cup. “Plus, Lord Brass Bits really was one pompous ass.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Martha gasped in theatric shock.

Brick put up his hooves defensively. “No offense to our floppy-eared cousins.”

She poked his belly a few times. “Some taken, Mr. Brick. Some taken, indeed.”

“AND BUILDING PONY SURE WAREHOUSE EMPTY?” Gruntwig asked.

“Absolutely. Did three sweeps of the building myself. Like I said—crazy, not stupid.”

“GOOD STORY!” Tormand announced. “REVENGE IMPORTANT! BUT MAKING SURE NO HURT INNOCENT MORE IMPORTANT! YAKS WILL CHERISH YOUR WORDS AND KEEP THEM CLOSE. TASHI DELEK!”

“TASHI DELEK!” came the general chorus, followed by another round of drinks being passed around.

Brick caught Hammerhead watching him. For once, the captain didn’t comment on his casual admission of crime. Instead, Brick saw something else in that scarred face. It might have been understanding.

“Well then.” Brick turned to Hammerhead with an exaggerated flourish. “Surely our esteemed captain has some tales that aren’t classified?”

Hammerhead’s eye narrowed as he considered. Finally, he nodded.

“Ever hunt a dragon?”

The shelter grew quiet. The dungchen horns softened to a low thrum.

“This was many years ago, during my first diplomatic mission to Griffonstone. Young dragon causing trouble along the border.” His voice took on a distant quality. “Not a child, but not full-grown either. The kind looking to make a name for themselves.”

Martha translated, her voice still rough but carrying the gravity of the tale. The yaks settled in.

“We were supposed to be there on a peace mission. But you know how griffons are.” Hammerhead glanced towards Guntram. “Peace isn’t exactly their style. Next thing we knew, we were part of a hunting party.”

He described the strategy—how they’d select their fastest flyer as bait, someone agile enough to dodge dragonfire and sharp enough to lead the beast where they wanted it.

“Sky Dancer was our bait that day.” Something flickered through Hammerhead’s distant eye. “Never seen anyone fly like that. She’d dart just close enough to enrage the dragon, then weave through its flames like she was dancing with them.”

The captain adjusted his eyepatch as he recounted the chase. “The rest of us waited in the clouds, watching. It’s difficult. To just watch, while your squadmate plays tag with a dragon.” He took another drink. “Every dodge, every near-miss. You want to help, but you can’t. One wrong move would spoil the ambush.”

His voice remained absolutely flat as he described Sky Dancer leading the dragon through a narrow valley, how close those massive claws had come to catching her.

“Dragon was so focused on catching her, it didn’t even notice us until we were on top of it. Griffons from above, pegasi from the sides.” He demonstrated the maneuver with his hooves. “Hit hard, hit fast, make it hurt.”

Through the tonga’s haze, Brick thought he caught… something. An edge to the captain’s voice, perhaps, a shift in how the lamplight caught his teeth. For just a heartbeat, the soldier’s face seemed different, hungry somehow. But the moment slipped away, and Brick was unsure if he’d seen anything at all.

“Did the dragon leave?” one of the younger yaks asked through Martha.

“That’s one way to say it.” Hammerhead’s expression darkened. “But not before...” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Well, let’s just say I learned why you don’t volunteer for bait duty twice.”

A heavy silence fell over the shelter. Several yaks touched their protection tokens.

“Sky Dancer made it,” Hammerhead added quickly, noting their concern. “But she never flew again. Some scars you can’t see.”

“TO SKY DANCER!” Tormand raised his cup. “BRAVE PONY! YAKS WILL CHERISH YOUR WORDS AND KEEP THEM CLOSE. TASHI DELEK!”

The toast was echoed around the shelter, dungchen horns swelling to match the moment.

“You know,” Brick said quietly, so only Hammerhead could hear, “for somepony who lectures me about violence, you sure got some whoppers of your own.”

“Different times,” Hammerhead replied. “Different reasons.” His eye was focused on a spot far away.

“Still, I do know how it feels to be powerless to help the ponies we care for.”

“I know you do, Mr. Brick.”

“Did you really burn down that warehouse, Mr. Brick?” Melody’s voice beside him made Brick jump.

The motion made him spill the remains of his tongba all over Hammerhead’s back, but that only elicited an annoyed grunt from the captain.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on ponies like that!” Brick wagged his empty cup in front of Melody. “But yes, it’s all true.” He tilted his head from left to right. “Well, mostly true in any case. Some details might’ve been embellished. Or omitted.”

Melody chuckled. Her joy rang with the same bright clarity as morning bells at Canterlot University.

“What about you, Sketchy—” He quickly shook his head. “Ah… I mean Melody. Of course. Sorry. Don’t you want to tell a—”

Brick backpedaled, tried to play it off; but using that name on Melody had clearly struck her just as much as it rattled him. Within seconds, her expression transitioned from surprise, to shock, to utter sadness.

Before Brick could react, or say anything else, she had already turned away and joined back up with Guntram. Brick considered following her, but figured he would just mess it up again. Suddenly he was angry. At his newly refilled cup of tongba, at the way it made his head swim. Sober Brick would know what to do.

“GRUNTWIG HAVE STORY!” The elderly yak announced from somewhere. Brick welcomed the distraction.

“WHEN GRUNTWIG YOUNG, GRUNTWIG GET CAUGHT IN VERY BAD STORM.” He gestured at the ventilation holes through which the wind still howled. “VERY LIKE THIS STORM.”

He paused to ask Martha for the right Equish words to continue his story.

“YOUNG GRUNTWIG THINK HE VERY SMART. THINK HE WALK AROUND STORM. BUT STORM TOO WIDE, TOO FAST. STORM CATCH GRUNTWIG FAR FROM VILLAGE.”

“What did you do?” Hammerhead asked.

Gruntwig grinned. “DO WHAT YAK MUST DO. TURN INTO STORM!”

Brick almost spit out his drink. “I’m sorry, you did what?”

“WHEN STORM CATCH YAK, ONLY ONE WAY HOME—THROUGH STORM! NOT AROUND!” He stomped for emphasis. “YAK WALK AGAINST WIND, THROUGH SNOW. HARD WALKING, BUT SHORTER TIME IN STORM.”

The other yaks nodded in understanding, while the non-yaks listened intently. Gruntwig consulted with Martha again.

“YAK FUR VERY GOOD!” Gruntwig patted his thick pelt proudly. “SNOW STICK TO FUR, MAKE SHIELD FROM WIND! ALSO, YAK KNOW HOW READ SNOW, EVEN IN STORM.”

Brick stole a quick glance towards Melody. She had retreated back into her corner with Guntram. Looking at her, Brick could see the sadness hadn’t left, but rather had made itself at home. It lived in the quiet corners of her smile now, more like a longtime roommate than an unwelcome guest.

Gruntwig went on to describe how he’d used the wind’s direction to navigate, knowing his village lay parallel to the storm. How he’d recognized the texture of the snow beneath his hooves. Certain patterns meant he was staying on track, others meant he’d strayed.

“MOST IMPORTANT IS YAK KNOW WHEN TO STOP!” He looked meaningfully at the younger yaks. “WHEN SNOW TOO THICK TO SEE HOOF IN FRONT OF FACE, YAK DIG! MAKE SNOW CAVE, WAIT FOR WORST TO PASS!”

Gruntwig explained how he’d survived the night in his makeshift shelter, using his own body heat to create a small, warm space in the snow, while the height of the storm passed over him.

“NEXT MORNING, STORM WEAKER. LET WIND GUIDE YAK HOME!” he concluded. “NOW GRUNTWIG TEACH YOUNG ONES—RESPECT STORM, BUT NOT FEAR STORM. KNOW WHEN TO FIGHT, KNOW WHEN TO WAIT.”

“That’s actually... really practical,” Brick admitted. “Though I still can’t believe you walked straight into it.”

“SOMETIMES SHORTEST PATH IS THROUGH WORST WEATHER,” Gruntwig said sagely. “BUT ONLY IF YAK KNOW WHAT YAK DOING!”

“TO GRUNTWIG!” Tormand declared, raising his cup. “TO YAK WISDOM! YAKS WILL CHERISH YOUR WORDS AND KEEP THEM CLOSE. TASHI DELEK!”

The rest of the evening dissolved into a kaleidoscope of impressions: the constant deep resonance of dungchen horns, the warmth of shared company, fragments of other stories that might or might not have been told.

But one moment stood out with absolute clarity—when the music suddenly stopped.

The silence hit like a physical blow. Through the haze of tongba, Brick registered Melody and Leroy exchanging a look of pure horror. They were moving before anyone else had processed what was happening, scrambling towards the entrance and clawing at the snow that had begun to seal it.

“What—” Brick started to ask.

Then came the explosion.

They emerged into the storm just in time to see one of the overflow batteries erupt in a shower of crystal shards, its light splintering across the snow like frozen lightning. The sight was beautiful in a terrible way—rainbow fragments catching the storm’s fury, refracting it into many patterns before vanishing into the white.

“No, no, no,” Melody’s voice carried barely above the wind. Her eyes darted between the remaining batteries, each pulsing with an increasingly erratic light. “This shouldn’t be happening! The storm! It’s too much magic! The weather itself must be charged with it!”

Another battery’s glow intensified dangerously.

“The dungchen!” Martha called out through chattering teeth and a rib-shaking cough. “Bring them out!”

The massive horns appeared, their players quickly taking positions around the site. Under Melody’s frantic direction, they began to play—not music exactly, but pure tones that wove through the storm’s magic like threads through fabric.

And they kept playing.

They worked in shifts through the last hours of the storm, fighting magic with music while the wind slowly died.

When dawn finally broke, half their overflow batteries lay in ruins, their fragments glinting in the fresh snow like fallen stars.

Brick watched Melody examining the remains of a battery, her expression grim despite their success. She glanced up at him briefly, and he saw that same flash of sadness as from the shelter.

His chest tightened.

He knew that he had messed up. Messed up badly. Messed up worse than just calling her by the wrong name. By the stars, it was so difficult to think. All he knew was that there were words that needed saying, questions that needed to be asked. But not then. Maybe not ever.

“How bad?” he asked instead, though he already knew.

“We saved half of them,” she said quietly. “But...” She glanced at the two growing crystal pillars. Their light was more erratic than Brick was used to. “I’m not sure if that’s going to be enough.”

Thirty-five days until pickup. Forty-eight days of coal. Ten days of gas.

Chapter 8: The Sound of Violence

Brick stood alone outside his cabin, squinting against sunlight that somehow managed to be both feeble and painful. His head felt like somepony had used it as an anvil. The tongba had helped with the cold last night, but now it came to collect its dues.

“Let’s see what Equestria did to my construction site.” His mutter cracked halfway through. Speaking hurt. Breathing hurt. Existing hurt.

Hammerhead was probably already on patrol. Martha and Melody were hopefully sleeping off a night spent directing the dungchen players through the storm.

Brick traced a blackened patch of frostbite on his foreleg. The fur there had frozen solid during their impromptu concert. Getting it warm again had hurt worse than the freezing, but at least he’d kept all his hooves. That was more than could be said for Hammerhead’s left ear tip.

Brick limped towards the first pillar.

The storm had redecorated with a flair that could have been artistic, had it not been so destructive. Snow drifts piled against the scaffolding, transforming straight lines into flowing curves. Half-buried wood poked through the white blanket like lost artifacts. The air carried the sharp scent of ozone—lingering evidence of whatever magical charge had turned their regular old snowstorm into a crystal-shattering catastrophe.

And everywhere, glinting in the snow, lay the remains of their overflow batteries. Each shard caught the sunlight, turning the site into a field of tiny, accusing mirrors. The surviving batteries stood like silent sentinels among their shattered siblings, their pulse a reminder of both what they’d lost and what they’d managed to save.

The steady thrum of dungchen horns still filled the air. The low tones made Brick’s brain feel like it was rattling around in his skull. Grimhorn worked the massive instrument, his breath freezing in steady rhythm. They would need constant rotations now. The remaining batteries couldn’t handle another surge without support.

A quick glance through his spyglass revealed that Bob and Ignatius Flavius III hadn’t been deterred by the storm. The two yetis were still standing roughly at the same distance, still staring. He had given them names. Bob was the scragglier one.

Having finished his round, Brick slumped against the first pillar and let the numbers wash over him. Thirty-five days until pickup. Half of their overflow batteries gone, constant dungchen rotations, defense training, add that to that the time lost to the storm…

He pulled out his battered notebook, scratching calculations in the margins. Even if he put all hooves on deck—his own included—even if he had Martha help whenever her cough allowed and Hammerhead pitch in between patrols... He crossed out numbers, started again. The math didn’t lie. There simply weren’t enough hooves or hours to finish before the pickup deadline.

Admit failure, or spend the winter here? Neither option seemed enticing, but he didn’t have to make a final decision just yet. There was still time, even if it was slipping away.

Brick scowled at his calculations one last time and trudged through the snow towards the yak shelter. They wouldn’t accomplish any real construction today, but the site needed to be ready for tomorrow. The sooner they cleared this mess, the sooner they could get back to work.

The scent of po cha grew stronger as he approached. Despite everything, the yaks maintained their morning routine. Steam rose from the shelter’s ventilation holes, carrying hints of butter and spice that made his hungover stomach growl.

Inside, he found most of the morning crew already gathered. Most of the yaks had bags under their eyes and tangled fur. Between the storm, the frostbite, and their own adventures with drink, no one was at their best. Still, they formed a circle around Brick and gave him their weary focus as he outlined the day’s tasks.

“First priority is finding every scrap of building material that blew loose in the storm. If it’s frozen solid, mark the location and we’ll deal with it once the sun’s had time to work.” He gestured vaguely upward. “Second, check all the support structures. Anything that looks even slightly unstable gets reinforced before we do anything else.”

The yaks nodded. Brick reckoned they would’ve known what to do even without his instructions, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure.

“And please,” Brick added, accepting a cup of po cha from Crompus, “someone figure out a new solution to our overload battery problem before these dungchens drive me completely insane.”

Brick led the morning shift yaks into the biting air. His body protested as he left the shelter’s warmth behind, but if his workers had to be out there, there was nothing for it.

He limped along the packed snow paths the yaks had stomped between workstations, making his way to his usual spot beside one of the coal heaters. He refilled it with automatic hooves and within moments the tangs of coal and frost mixed in his nostrils.

Brick settled in to supervise. Working in the snow, the yaks were second to none. He doubted even Everfree’s best construction crews would be able to keep up. The yaks’ methods were refined by generations of dealing with winter’s aftermath: They had ways of testing snow depth with their horns, of finding what the drifts buried, of knowing which parts of the site needed attention first.

The rhythmic sound of their work slipped into his head, overriding the incessant drone of dungchen horns. Brick’s eyelids grew heavier. Just a quick rest, he told himself...

“Mr. Brick?”

He startled awake, nearly knocking over the remains of his po cha. Melody stood there, her form backlit by the midday sun. The nap had taken the worst edge off his hangover, though his head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“No rest for the bricked, I guess.” He blinked away sleep, watching her gaze skitter across the ground.

They’d successfully avoided each other since yesterday. Now, with the walking memory of the party facing him, his throat tightened.

Brick noticed too how she held herself… differently. Almost rigid.

“I need to show you something,” she said quietly. “In the workshop. Please?”

The “please” caught his attention. It was urgent.

He limped after her through the snow, noting the strange precision in her movements. Maybe she had frostbite as well.

When they entered the workshop, Leroy looked up from his position near the workbench. The young yak’s eyes were wide, and for once, he remained silent.

Melody closed the door behind them. “I didn’t want to cause a panic,” she began, then stopped. Instead of finishing her sentence, she raised one of her back hooves.

Brick’s breath caught, his cotton brain taking an extra moment to process what he was seeing. Where there should have been fur and flesh, crystalline patterns spread across her leg, like frost on a window. They caught the light from the nearby crystals, creating tiny rainbows that danced across the workshop walls.

A sharp spike of adrenaline instantly cleared up Brick’s head.

“How long?” he breathed.

“Leroy just noticed it.” Her voice trembled slightly. “It doesn’t hurt. It just feels... different. Like my hooves are singing.”

“By Luna’s cheeks.” Brick stared at the crystalline patterns. Each facet sparkled with perfect elegance. Each had glasslike beauty, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that they were firmly attached to Melody’s leg, growing along it like a second, sparkling skin. “Does it... spread?”

“I think so.” Melody stretched out her other back hoof. Similar patterns had begun there, though less pronounced. “It looks like it’s moving up my legs. Slowly.”

Leroy shifted closer, eyes fixed on Melody. “CRYSTAL PONY BECOMING REAL CRYSTAL PONY!”

Brick’s mind raced through implications. “Have you told the others?”

“No.” Melody pulled her hooves back under herself. “I wanted to tell you first because...” She searched for words. “Because you’ll be honest with me. You won’t try to make it sound better than it is.”

The weight of her trust hit him like a physical blow. After everything, she still came to him first.

“Smart kid.” He tried to keep his voice steady. “Hammerhead would probably initiate military intervention.”

That earned him a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“You want me to be honest, kid?” Brick shook his head. “This?” He pointed at her back hoof. “This is fucked.”

Melody opened her mouth, but Brick gestured that he wasn’t done.

He pointed at the window. “Magical storms are also fucked. So are princesses massacring dragons, yeti hunting packs and this whole Celestia-damned project.” He gave a quick glance at the seed crystal on the workbench. “I’m not even going to start with whatever we keep seeing and hearing when we awaken these crystals. Could write a whole book about how fucked that is.”

“Those are—”

“However, since we’ve somehow accepted all of that, let’s find out how fucked these spreading crystals are exactly. Afterwards, we know which level of freaking out is appropriate.”

Melody took a deep breath. “You’re right.”

“LEROY THINK IS BEAUTIFUL!” The young yak blurted out. “LIKE NEW ICE ON POND.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Brick moved closer to examine the crystalline patterns. “What’s causing this? The constant exposure?”

“I have a theory.” Melody gestured towards her desk, where several books lay open, their worn pages covered with hoofwritten notes. “The crystals don’t just transmit emotions and magic—they reshape reality around themselves. That’s how the building material works, remember? But what if...” She swallowed hard. “What if they're reshaping me too?”

Brick felt the familiar chill of cold sweat on his neck. “Is that possible?”

“I don’t know. The crystals are designed to use any suitable material around them to grow and replace broken parts.” She bit her lip. “‘Suitable material’ usually means regular crystals or something like sand. Mom’s team apparently hasn’t considered that suitable material could also be—”

“Organic material.”

“Exactly. After all, the ponies around it are also part of the system. They are the source of the love that gets fed into Eternity,” Melody said.

A key piece suddenly fell into place. “And the ideal transmitter for emotions is a crystal!”

“That’s…” Melody took a step back. “Correct, Mr. Brick.”

“I do sometimes pay attention.”

“As crazy as it might seem”—Melody patted the crystal on the workbench—“the crystals may also transform the ‘organic material’ around them to make the whole process more efficient. This could open up an entirely new field of research—”

“Back to the problem at hoof.” Brick sighed. “What if you stop working with the crystals. Will you turn back to normal?”

“I don’t know.” A small tremble shuffled Melody’s feathers.

“Will it also infect everyone else at the site? Makes sense that it got to you first, because you sleep in the same room as these things. Will it happen to Leroy next?”

“LEROY NOT SCARED!” The yak stomped one of his hooves, making the workbench rattle. “LEROY HELP CRYSTAL PONY NO MATTER WHAT!”

“I know. Thank you, Leroy.” Melody patted him on the back before answering, “Most likely, to both questions.”

“Then we need to stop!” Brick flared his nostrils.

“Don’t.” Melody’s voice hardened. “You know we need this to work. Equestria is counting on us. The princesses are counting on us.”

Brick wanted to argue, but he saw the determination in her stance. The same stubborn pride he’d seen in another young mare, many years ago. The one who wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop until...

He pushed the thoughts away. “Fine. You have until the end of the day to figure out if this is dangerous.”

“What if I need more time, Mr. Brick? Nopony’s ever observed something like this!”

“Tough.” Brick shrugged. “A day is all you get, kid. If this is dangerous and not reversible, I need my yaks, ponies and donkey out of here. And griffon. I guess.”

Melody paused. “Deal.”

“Right then,” Brick said, already turning towards the door. “Good luck with your research, kid.”

“Wait.” Melody’s voice made him pause. “I was… hoping you would help Leroy and me with this.”

Brick kept his hoof on the door handle, not quite turning back. After last night’s slip-up, being almost alone with her felt... complicated. “You sure about that? Hammerhead’s probably free, and Martha—"

“I know you were joking, but Captain Hammerhead would mostly worry about security implications. And Lady Martha...” Melody’s wings rustled softly. “She is so wonderful, but I think she would be so worried about me that we wouldn’t get anywhere.”

A moment of silence stretched between them. They both looked at their hooves. Leroy, obviously not catching on, also eyed his own hooves.

“Besides,” she mumbled, “you have your own way of thinking. Not everything needs a fancy degree from Canterlot University.”

“You realize that I do have a degree in structural engineering from Canterlot University?”

The blush on Melody’s cheeks turned her white complexion more akin to a tomato. “I… I didn’t mean to say that you were—”

“I get it, kid. I’ve got ‘street smarts.’” Brick turned around. “I’m in, but only because watching you turn into a crystal is slightly more interesting… and uh, concerning, than supervising snow removal. Where do we start?”

Brick shuffled through the papers on Melody’s desk, sending a flutter of notes to the floor that Leroy quickly snatched up. Half-finished frequency calculations sprawled across pages. Ancient tomes lay open to chapters about legendary pony transformations, while medical texts displayed intricate anatomical drawings marked up with Melody’s precise writing. Brick noticed she had paid special attention to any hoof-related material.

“Well...” Melody tapped her crystalline hoof against the floor, creating an oddly musical chime and snapping Brick’s attention back into the moment. “We know the crystals respond to emotional frequencies. Maybe we could—”

“Hold up.” Brick raised a foreleg. “Before we get into this fancy science, let’s think about this like a construction problem.”

Melody tilted her head. “How so?”

“When I’m checking if a building’s stable, I start with the basics. Foundation. Load-bearing walls. Stress points.” He gestured at her hooves. “Your body is basically a building that’s being renovated without your permission. So, let’s start there.”

“LEROY CAN HELP!” The young yak bounded forward. “LEROY HEAR CRYSTAL SONG!”

“Of course you can.” Melody wrapped a wing around the yak. “That’s why you’re my number one assistant.”

“Perfect.” Brick nodded. “Probably better to get the opinion of someone who’s not currently turning crystal. Squirt, Melody said her hooves are ‘singing.’ What do they sound like?”

Leroy closed his eyes in concentration. “SOUND LIKE... LIKE WHEN SEED CRYSTAL FIRST WAKE UP. BUT QUIETER. MORE GENTLE.”

“Leroy’s right. It doesn’t sound destructive,” Melody mused, scribbling a note. “Like the crystals aren’t trying to take over completely, but adapting to my existing structure.”

Brick studied her transformed hooves with his builder’s eye. “The patterns follow your natural bone structure.”

“Just like how the crystals work with our building material!” Melody bounced.

After a few seconds, she caught herself and stopped. Some of the blush from before returned to her cheeks.

“And look here.” Brick pointed to where crystal met flesh. “Clean integration, no stress fractures. If this were dangerous, wouldn’t we see signs of rejection?”

He’d seen enough bad joints in his career to know what failure looked like. This wasn’t it.

Melody made another note. “Leroy, would you mind preparing the microscope for us?”

The yak swept away a cover, revealing a complex contraption of lenses and mirrors.

Melody said, “It’s not as good as the ones in Canterlot, but it’ll let us see the transformation up close.”

“Fancy.” Brick eyed the microscope with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. “Though I gotta warn you—last time I used one of these was in university, and I mostly drew pictures of hydras eating my professor.”

Leroy started turning knobs and dials, his careful touches treating the instrument like a treasured object.

“Take a look.” Melody positioned her hoof under the lens. Their eyes met briefly before both looked away. “This might be a bit... strange,” she added, focusing on the floor.

“You… uh… sure you don’t want me to get Martha for this?”

“Yes, Mr. Brick. Just tell me what you see, please.” Melody didn’t entirely manage to keep the fluster out of her voice.

Brick peered through the eyepiece, squinting against a too-bright light that renewed the throb in his head. At first, he saw only a blur of colors, but as Leroy adjusted the focus, patterns emerged. The boundary between flesh and crystal was mesmerizing: tiny geometric shapes growing and interlocking like the world’s most intricate puzzle.

“I can see hexagonal structures,” Brick reported.

“That's exactly how the seed crystals grow. Perfect crystalline lattices, forming one cell at a time,” Melody said. Brick could hear that she was smiling.

“But there’s something else.” Brick blinked a couple of times. “There are dark lines running through it. Are those blood vessels?” he sputtered as the realization hit. “Siiiiick.”

“They must be! The crystal structure is building itself around them, incorporating them into the lattice without disrupting their function.” Her voice carried scientific excitement. “It’s not replacing living tissue.”

“It’s enhancing it!” Brick trumpeted.

“LEROY WANT SEE!”

They helped the young yak position his eye at the lens. His gasp of wonder needed no translation.

“Well,” Brick said after a pause, “I guess that means crystals aren’t trying to kill you. They’re trying to make you a better conductor.”

“A better transmitter for emotional energy.” Melody nodded slowly. “It’s actually quite elegant, from an engineering perspective.”

“Still creepy though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Melody chuckled in a way only she could. In a way that made Brick feel like all was well in the world. If only just for a moment.

“If we’re all gonna transform into ‘crystal’ ponies, we need to make doubly sure it’s safe,” Brick said. “Any ideas?”

Melody tapped her chin. The usual dark shadows beneath her eyes contrasted with the sudden spark of determination that lit them from within.

She looked up from her notes and pushed them aside. “We need to make sure that the crystals won’t disrupt any bodily functions.”

“Let’s be systematic about this.” Brick dug the small toolkit out of his work vest. “First things first. How does your body feel, on a scale of horse to crystal?”

Melody stretched out her crystal hoof. “It’s hard to describe. Everything feels more... resonant, but I still feel like Clear Melody.”

“Super scientific, Miss Professor Doctor crystallographer.” Brick rummaged through his tools and produced a thin screwdriver. “Let’s try something basic. Close your eyes and tell me when you feel a—”

“Ow! Yes, I felt that!” Melody’s leg twitched rapidly. “Mr. Brick, I’m not sure that’s—” She cut off with another yelp.

“Good.” Brick tapped different spots along the crystalline surface. It felt surprisingly soft and flexible for being a crystal. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“Here?”

“Yes! You can stop stabbing me now!”

“LEROY HELP TEST!” The young yak bounded forward.

“No!” Brick and Melody cried simultaneously.

Brick set the screwdriver aside. “Well, you’ve got normal sensation. Next up. Can you move everything that should be moveable?”

Melody demonstrated by trotting in a small circle, then rearing up on her back legs. Her crystalline hooves caught the light, creating small rainbows on the workshop walls. “Full range of motion. I actually feel stronger, if anything.”

“Now for the really fun part.” Brick glanced at the seed crystal on the workbench. “These things go haywire around magic. We need to know if you’re going to... explode or something when somepony casts a spell near you.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Melody chewed her lip. “The crystals are unstable because they’re designed to receive, amplify and transmit different frequencies. But my hooves don’t feel the same way the seed crystals do.”

“LEROY LISTEN!” The young yak closed his eyes in concentration. “SEED CRYSTAL SING WITH MANY VOICES. BUT CRYSTAL PONY HOOVES...” He nodded his shaggy head. “JUST ONE VOICE.”

“That’s something,” Brick agreed. “But the overflow batteries were stable too, until the storm overloaded them.”

Melody considered this. “Let’s test it. Start with the weakest possible magic and gradually increase?”

“And if you start to destabilize, we’ll see it coming,” Brick finished. “Not bad, kid. How do we start?”

“The smallest amount of pegasus magic I can manage.” Melody stretched her wings. “Just enough to hover an inch off the ground.”

Brick positioned himself to snatch her out of the air straight away should anything go wrong. “Kid, I’m not even kidding. If you feel like you’re about to detonate, stop immediately.”

Melody nodded and gently fluttered her wings. She rose slightly. Brick knew that for all the control pegasi had in the sky, their magic was by nature less predictable than that of unicorns. Melody, Leroy and Brick all watched her crystalline hooves intently.

Nothing happened.

“Try a little more,” Brick suggested, not moving from his protective stance.

Melody rose higher, channeling more magic through her wings. Her hooves remained stable, showing no signs of the chaotic resonance they’d seen in the overflow batteries.

“CRYSTAL SONG NOT CHANGE!” Leroy announced excitedly. “STAY QUIET! STAY STEADY!”

“Still doesn’t explain why they’re so stable.” Brick scratched his chin, where his meticulously unkept stubble had started to turn into a beard. “Unless...”

“Unless they’re not receiving any frequencies,” Melody said, landing softly. “Their only purpose is to make me emit my emotions more efficiently!”

“So it’s one-way only!”

Melody grinned. “That means no matter how much magic there is around me, I will be safe.”

The realization hit them both at once. Melody leapt into the air with a delighted spin, her wings carrying her in a tight circle of pure joy. Brick caught himself doing a little victory dance.

Melody’s crystal hooves created tiny musical chimes as she dropped back to the floor.

Brick exchanged a hoof-bump with Leroy and patted Melody on the back. “Great job, kids. Though, Imma still need both of you to figure out if this is permanent.”

Melody’s eyes went wide. “We may be witnessing the creation of an entirely new kind of pony!”

“Let’s just hope they make being a crystal pony tax deductible. No idea how I’d pay off the income tax on that shiny body. Might have to turn to crime.”

They both chuckled, but when their eyes met, Brick’s laughter died in his throat. Melody quickly turned to study the floor.

Brick took a deep breath. “Look, kid. About yesterday. I’m really—”

“It’s okay, Mr. Brick. I understand. You still miss her very much, don’t you?”

Quick Sketch’s face flashed in his mind. “I—”

The door opened. Guntram had chosen that exact moment to arrive with a serving tray of yak snacks and po cha.

And Burnt Brick is saved by the bell.

“Really good work, both of you.” Brick swung his frostbitten leg around the utterly confused griffon, almost knocking down the tray. “You eat something, and I’ll go and explain to everyone that we’ll all be turning into crystals. Cheerio!”

Burnt Brick closed the door behind him and sank down, burying his face in his hooves. Her eyes were still there.

“... and that’s why all of us turning into crystals may not even be that bad,” Brick finished his explanation.

He had gathered the yaks outside right after Melody and he had finished. The sun had traveled far during their experiments, and a darkening, cloudless sky watched the slight breeze sweeping over the site. The yaks had worked well that day. The site almost looked like the storm had never happened.

Avoiding eye contact with the yak herd, Brick glanced to the crystal shards, now arranged in neat piles across the worksite. He knew that Eternity would, just like it was turning everyone into crystals, restore the overflow batteries and reclaim these lost pieces of itself. The critical question was, as usual, if it would happen in time.

Brick let his words hang in the air, waiting for some kind of response. The silence stretched uncomfortably. The yaks’ expressions stood in stark contrast to their now quite peaceful surroundings, their muzzles open in something between horror and disbelief.

He looked towards Hammerhead and Martha for support, but only found raised eyebrows.

The agitated murmurs among the yak herd steadily increased in volume. Brick didn’t need to understand Yakish perfectly to know they were not happy. He caught them repeatedly muttering ‘Jō rātō rātō varṣā banā'um̐chin’. After a moment of confusion, he remembered that it was their name for Luna.

Martha approached. “Perhaps,” she finally said, her voice muffled through a discretionary hoof, “we could have phrased that a bit more... diplomatically?”

“Look.” Brick scrubbed a hoof through his mane. “It’s been a really long day, okay?”

Tormand approached as well, his massive form casting a shadow over Brick. “BUILDING PONY SAY DARK PRINCESS MAGIC TURN ALL INTO CRYSTAL?”

“Well, when you put it that way...” Brick started, but the chieftain wasn’t finished.

“DARK PRINCESS MAGIC MAKE YAK NOT YAK ANYMORE?” The words rumbled from Tormand’s throat like a distant avalanche. The herd pressed round their leader, a mass of bristling fur and stamping hooves that made the ground shudder beneath Brick’s feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brick caught Hammerhead shifting his weight ever so slightly, his wings half-spread and ready. The captain’s scarred face remained impassive, but his good eye tracked every movement in the crowd with predatory focus.

Martha stepped forward in one fluid movement, positioning herself between Brick and the advancing yaks.

“My dearest gentleyaks,” she began, her voice cutting through grunts and grumbles. “Please, allow me to clarify what Mr. Brick here has rather... inelegantly attempted to explain.”

She paused, evidently gauging their reactions. The yaks’ aggressive stance softened slightly at hearing their own language. Martha continued, switching between Yakish and Equish.

“Consider, if you will, the great ice bridges of your homeland.” She gestured towards the endless expanse of evening-engulfed snow. “How do they form? Gradually. Naturally. The water doesn’t fight becoming ice. It transforms because that is what it needs to be.”

The yaks exchanged glances.

“The crystals are changing us. But, as Mr. Brick explained, they are not hurting us,” Martha said. “They’re helping us become what we need to be to complete this great work. Like ice strengthening water, making it capable of bearing great weights.”

“BUT ICE STILL WATER UNDERNEATH,” Gruntwig pointed out. “JUST DIFFERENT SHAPE.”

“Precisely!” Martha beamed at him. “Just as Miss Melody is still substantially herself, whether she appears different on the outside or not. She is now simply better equipped for her crucial role, just like water adjusts to its surroundings and becomes ice.

“The crystals aren’t destroying who we are. They’re harmonizing with us. Like...” She paused for a beat. “Like how the dungchen harmonizes with the crystals, making them stronger and more stable.”

The horn players bobbed their heads in agreement, and Brick had to suppress a smile. This was why he left the talking to Martha. Where he had nearly started a riot, she wielded words like an expert mason laying tile. He watched her glide closer to Tormand.

Hammerhead mirrored her movement from the edge of the group. The captain maintained some distance, but Brick saw the same coiled tension Hammerhead always displayed during their security drills or when the yetis drew a step too close.

“You’ve seen how Miss Melody works with the crystals. How she listens to them, understands them. This transformation is simply making that connection stronger.” Martha swept her hoof towards the workshop. “Your own young one can hear their songs now too. Is he any less a yak for it?”

“LEROY STILL YAK!” Crompus proclaimed. “JUST YAK WHO HEAR PRETTY MUSIC!”

Brick watched with reluctant admiration as a ripple of amusement passed through the crowd. Martha’s eyes sparkled for just a moment before her expression settled back into careful neutrality.

“I know you have concerns about the Dark Princess’s magic.” Her voice dropped lower, and Brick angled his ears to catch the words. “But consider this: Have we not worked together these many weeks? Have we not shared meals, songs, stories?” She again gestured at the site around them, and Brick’s eyes followed. “Have we not already begun to transform each other, crystal magic or no?”

She looked around the gathering, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “The crystals may change our forms, but they cannot change who we are unless we allow it. And we—” she coughed, but recovered with grace, “—we are builders. Workers. Creators. That is what we’ll remain, no matter what shape we take.”

Brick felt the shift in the air, like fresh mortar finally starting to set. The yaks’ stances loosened, though their hooves still shuffled against the snow. At the edge of the crowd, Hammerhead’s wings finally folded back against his sides.

“PRETTY WORDS,” Tormand said finally. “BUT DARK PRINCESS MAGIC STILL DARK PRINCESS MAGIC.”

Martha rose to her full height—still barely reaching the yaks’ shoulders—but something in her stance made Brick take a step back. Her voice sharpened like a blade being drawn. “Then perhaps I should remind you of your debt to the Dark Princess.” Her words cut through the cold air as she switched to Yakish. Brick didn’t need to understand the language to recognize a threat when he heard one.

The yaks froze mid-breath, as if Luna herself had stepped into their midst. Their bodies cast longer shadows in the crystal light as they hunched inward, like pillars bearing too much weight. One by one, their hooves found their tokens, tracing the crystals with movements so practiced they seemed unconscious. Brick recognized that haunted look they shared. He’d worn it himself in Canterlot’s dungeons, when the past caught up and there was nowhere left to run.

“TINY DONKEY SPEAK TRUTH?” Tormand’s proud head hung low as he spoke, his braids dragging in the snow.

“This is the truth as I understand it. I’m not trying to deceive you,” Martha replied with a deep bow. “I swear it on my honor as a trader.”

The yaks nodded, though their expressions remained troubled.

“THEN YAKS TRUST,” Tormand declared after a long moment. “YAKS ALWAYS PAY DEBTS.”

Nods and murmurs of approval rippled through the herd.

One by one, the yaks turned away. Their massive forms melted into the gathering shadows like a storm breaking apart. Brick watched them go, his legs feeling suddenly weak as the adrenaline drained away. The evening wind soon carried the sound of resumed work; that beautiful sound that meant crisis averted, at least for now. Hammerhead lingered a moment longer, his eye sweeping the dispersing crowd one final time before he took wing for another patrol.

Only then did Brick let out a breath and make his way to Martha’s side.

“That went well. Good thing I warmed them up for you,” he told her. “Though I notice you left out the part where we’re fighting the entire world and Luna’s got an apocalypse in her back pocket.”

Martha’s frame shook with another cough. “One hard truth at a time, my dear.”

She started to say something else but doubled over with a coughing fit. Brick steadied her with a hoof. It seemed unnecessarily big on her shoulder.

“You should get some rest,” he muttered. “That cough isn’t getting any better.”

“My dear, you look like you could use some rest yourself.” Martha extracted her elbow from his hoof and tilted her head towards their cabins. Behind them, the crystal pillars cast long shadows across the trampled snow as the sun vanished below the horizon.

She steered him away from his usual evening inspection route. For once, Brick didn’t argue. The day’s tension had left him feeling as hollow as one of their empty coal barrels.

Together, they made their way through the deepening dark.

A week passed. During one morning inspection, Brick had noticed something odd about the sound of his hoofsteps. There was a crystalline chime that hadn’t been there before. Looking down, he discovered a patch of geometric crystal beginning to grow. As if his life wasn’t complicated enough, he was turning into a walking chandelier now. At least the crystal patches didn’t hurt, and they might even be useful. If he ever needed to blind somepony with rainbow reflections.

He wasn’t alone.

Martha’s delicate forehooves now sparkled in the sunlight, a development she regarded with artistic appreciation. Hammerhead bore similar formations climbing his legs, and accepted the change with the same grim resignation he showed everything else.

Melody’s transformation was far more advanced. Crystal had claimed nearly half her body now, the patterns reaching her barrel and starting on her muzzle and wingtips. It was beautiful, but deeply unsettling. Yet she moved with the same lightness as always, as if becoming a living crystal was the most natural thing in the world.

Among their northern companions, only Leroy showed signs of transformation. Crystal veins traced his horns like frozen lightning. The rest of the yaks remained unchanged, their thick fur as purely organic as ever. Similarly, Guntram’s red feathers stayed stubbornly feather-like, though he watched Melody’s crystalline form with undisguised fascination.

That particular day started out entirely average. The food was the same. The work was the same.

Melody and Leroy had awakened the third seed crystal a day before and it was already in its place at the base of the third pillar. Thanks to some late-night shifts, the first pillar was finally complete. Still, the deadline until the last possible pickup seemed out of reach. They kept pushing nevertheless. Somehow, they had to make it work.

Just like on any other day, the dungchen horns thrummed their endless song, players rotating in scheduled shifts. The sound had become as much a part of their world as the constant wind and the crystals’ pulsing light.

Just like on any other day, Brick hauled support beams and mixed crystal compound alongside his workers, pausing only to check angles and direct adjustments to the scaffolding.

Just like on any other day, Hammerhead performed his security drills, training his makeshift militia of yaks while Bob and Ignatius watched from their vigil on the horizon. The trenches were deeper now, the wooden stakes sharper.

Just like any other day, Guntram found excuses to visit the workshop and competed with Martha in providing food, drink and companionship for Melody and Leroy.

Just like on any other day, Brick checked his mental tallies. Twenty-seven days until pickup. Forty days of coal. Ten days of gas.

But this day was different.

The first sign was a sound that shouldn’t have been there—the clear ring of brass bells they’d salvaged from the Audacity’s emergency system.

The alarm cut through the thrum of the dungchen horns like a knife. Brick’s head snapped up from his inspection of the third pillar’s scaffolding. When he turned, he saw it.

Bob charging full tilt towards their defenses, his monstrous body eating up the distance with terrifying speed.

“YETI ATTACK!” The cry went up in multiple languages.

The site erupted into frenzy. Everyone rushed to gather at their western defenses, Brick included. Hammerhead hovered over them. The captain’s voice snapped sharp and precise.

“DEFENSIVE POSITIONS! JUST LIKE WE PRACTICED!”

Brick also heard something else in Hammerhead’s voice. It was indeed sharp and precise, but its undercurrent made Brick’s coat prickle. The same hungry edge he thought he’d heard when the captain had described fighting the dragon. Only now it was stronger, more immediate. Like a beast that had caught the scent of blood.

The yaks took up their assigned posts. Dromius and Crompus anchored the front line, their bulk making them natural barriers. Grimhorn and Ingville flanked them, armed with long poles they’d spent days learning to wield in tandem.

“Everyone else, fall back to secondary positions!” Hammerhead’s eye swept the site, probably calculating speeds and distances. “Miss Melody, grab Leroy and get to the back!”

Melody had already started leading the young yak away.

Guntram spread his wings, saying something rapid and urgent in Griffish. Hammerhead responded in kind, his words clipped.

The griffon turned to Melody, who had paused halfway. For a moment, the polite façade he usually maintained vanished. He wrapped her in a fierce embrace, whispered something that made her eyes widen, then launched himself towards the charging yeti without looking back.

“Guntram will draw its attention!” Hammerhead called to his team. “If we fail, you have to stop it!”

The captain paused beside Brick. A dozen goodbyes crowded Brick’s throat, each more sincere than the last, but sincerity had never been his strong suit.

“Try not to die, you old warhorse,” Brick managed, his voice gruff. “I’d hate having to explain to Celestia that I broke one of her captains.”

The shadow of a smile passed over Hammerhead’s face before it returned to that hungry snarl. “Keep the site secure, Mr. Brick.” He adjusted his eyepatch, his remaining eye coldly focused on the charging yeti. “And if I don’t make it back—”

“Just shut up and go be a hero already.”

The captain shot into the sky, leaving Brick with his heart firmly wedged in his throat.

Brick took up the spyglass and watched as Guntram raced towards the yeti. The griffon kept himself so close to the ground that his wingtips cut trails in the snow, creating a blinding white cloud in his wake.

He closed the distance in seconds. Just as Brick was sure they were about to collide, Guntram looped over the yeti’s head with a powerful beat of his wings. Bob’s massive paw swiped through empty air where the griffon had been a heartbeat before, missing by inches.

The yeti’s attacks intensified, each swipe and grab more vicious than the last. But Guntram... Guntram moved in ways that defied everything Brick knew about living bodies. The griffon’s form seemed to flow around the attacks like liquid, his red feathers a blur against the snow. Each move left a ghost-image in Brick’s vision, and he could have sworn he saw Guntram’s body literally bend and twist in impossible ways—moving with a fluidity that no amount of training could explain.

Thus, each of Bob’s strikes met only air and scattered feathers. The griffon wove between the attacks with that inconceivable flexibility, occasionally darting in to deliver quick strikes that left no visible damage.

Through the spyglass, Brick could see strain beginning to show on Guntram. His movements, though still blindingly fast, were losing their precision. One swipe passed so close that Guntram’s feathers rippled in its wake. A heartbeat later, the griffon arched his spine as the yeti’s claws whispered past his throat.

Brick heard the defensive line shifting around him. The scratch of poles being gripped tighter, the soft clink of improvised armor settling into place. He didn’t need to look to know the yaks were preparing for when, not if, the fight came to them.

Then, starting low and building like an avalanche, a deep rhythmic chant began. The yaks stamped their hooves in time, their ancient war song rising as if to challenge the wind. Even without understanding most of the words, Brick felt the primal power of it in his bones. Part prayer, part battle cry, part promise of violence to come. Dromius’s rumbling bass led the chorus while the others wove their voices through it, creating a harmony as old as the Frozen North itself.

Suddenly, Bob launched an attack that even Brick could see was unavoidable—a sweeping backhand that would catch Guntram no matter which way he moved.

A blue streak hit the yeti like a thunderbolt.

Hammerhead and Bob went down in an explosion of snow, the impact throwing up a cloud that obscured everything. Brick’s heart plummeted from his throat to his stomach, taking all his air with it. He struggled to breathe. The war chant faltered for just a heartbeat as the yaks watched the brutal collision, then surged back stronger, more urgent. The very air seemed to vibrate with the battle’s ferocity.

Please, please let him be—

Hammerhead’s form arced out of the cloud, tumbling across the snow before the captain caught himself. Each point where he’d struck the ground was marked with bright splashes of red.

Some idiot behind the defensive line kept shouting. It took Brick a moment to realize it was himself.

Then the snow settled, and the yeti was revealed as well. Bob’s white fur was speckled with blood—whose blood was impossible to tell. The yeti seemed shaken for once, but still very much in the fight.

Hammerhead... Brick’s breath stopped entirely. An ugly gash ran down the captain’s shoulder, but that wasn’t what made him stare. The captain’s eyepatch had come loose in the struggle, revealing an empty socket underneath, but even that paled compared to his expression.

Hammerhead was grinning. It wasn’t a smile—not really. It was something older, something that existed before smiles were invented. A baring of teeth that contained no warmth, no joy, just the ecstasy of hate. His remaining eye stayed cold above that terrible display, watching, calculating, even as the grin stretched wider and more unnatural with each passing moment.

The yeti launched itself forward. Instead of evading, Hammerhead met the charge head-on. They collided in midair, the captain getting inside Bob’s reach before those massive arms could connect. Yeti and pegasus hit the ground with Hammerhead on top, and he unleashed a barrage of strikes that seemed to come straight from Tartarus itself.

Surely, the impacts would surely have broken most other creatures, but the yeti’s paw rebounded, caught Hammerhead, and sent him flying. The captain crashed onto frozen ground with a horrible crunch that made Brick’s body tense as if he’d taken the blow himself.

Then, in a motion almost too fast to follow, Hammerhead used his wings to snap into a crouch, his back turned to the yeti. Brick knew that the beast was seeing a vulnerable target, soft underbelly exposed. A lifetime of hunting had taught it to fear what was in front, never what lay behind.

Bob charged, drawn to the promise of the kill.

The trap was sprung. Hammerhead’s back legs uncoiled like a released spring, catching the yeti perfectly under the chin. The impact echoed off the ice like a glacier splitting in two. Bob’s head snapped back at an angle that hit Brick like a punch to the gut, bile surging up his throat as his body tried to reject what his eyes had just witnessed.

Hammerhead stepped aside as the yeti’s lifeless form slumped to the ground. The yaks halted their song, and all fell quiet.

A cloud of disturbed snow settled around Bob.

Then came Hammerhead’s laughter—a sound that contained no mirth, no triumph, just the cold echo of something ancient and terrible. Brick watched even the hardened yaks draw back as if putting distance between themselves and something unclean.

As the captain’s laughter turned into wheezing, Guntram landed at his side and supported him with one wing. Together they made their slow way back to the site, leaving a trail of red splashes behind them. To Brick, it looked like a trail of roses, blooming in the snow.

Somepony should really do something about that. And about getting them to safety. And about making sure the other yeti didn’t—

“Ingville! Grimhorn! Dromius!” Brick heard the bark of his own voice echo across the site. “Get out there and cover their retreat! Stay between them and Ignatius!”

The yaks sprang into action without hesitation.

Brick tossed his spyglass at Crompus, not looking or caring where it landed. “Keep your eye on the other one. If it so much as twitches in our direction, sound the alarm.”

Brick’s attention snapped to where Martha and Gruntwig stood. “We need bandages, clean snow, and something to sterilize the wound.” He spotted the stack of coal beside them. “And boil water. Lots of it. We’ll need to clean that gash properly once the bleeding’s under control.”

With the orders given, Brick’s eyes swept the site one last time and caught sight of Melody. She stood with her half-crystalline wings spread wide, shielding Leroy from the scene. The young yak peered around her wing with wide eyes, but she gently nudged him back. At least that was one thing Brick didn’t need to worry about.

Then he was galloping across the snow towards Hammerhead and Guntram. This was… just like another construction site accident. Just like the consequence of a misplaced nail or a slipped saw, nothing else. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with a hundred times already.

“This is just like that time Crowbar dropped a beam on himself,” Brick panted as he reached them, sliding under Hammerhead’s other wing. His eyes met Guntram’s over the captain’s slumped form. The griffon’s grim expression mirrored the worry Brick felt as Hammerhead muttered something incomprehensible.

“What’s that, Cappy? Can’t hear you over all this heroic bleeding you’re doing,” Brick tried, but his voice shook. “Though I gotta say, taking down a yeti is a bit more impressive than my usual workplace incidents.”

They half-carried, half-dragged the captain back to the site, where Martha and Gruntwig stood ready with supplies. Brick lowered Hammerhead onto a makeshift bed of spare tarps.

“Still alive… still alive…” the captain rasped through rusty breaths.

“Exactly! Now hold still so that we can keep it that way!” Brick positioned himself where the captain could see him. “Hey, remember when you promised to tell me what your friends call you? This seems like a great time for that.”

Martha and Gruntwig worked frantically, but each bandage they applied was saturated in minutes. Blood. There was only ever more blood. The captain’s responses grew more distant. His good eye turned glassy.

“C-come on, stay with me here.” Brick attempted a casual tone, but knew he was failing. “You can’t pass out yet—I’ve got at least a dozen more amazing nicknames to try out on you. How about ‘Drosseleyer’? No? Maybe ‘Captain Grumpyface’?”

Brick felt Hammerhead’s foreleg grip around his own. The captain was shaking, but it still felt like an iron shackle.

The bandages weren’t working. Martha’s hooves stained crimson as she tried desperately to stem the flow. “Is it an artery?” she hissed. “We can’t...”

“Hey, hey! Hey!” Brick clapped his hooves in front of Hammerhead’s face as the captain’s eye started to drift closed. “Don’t you dare. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! That’s an order from your superior officer!”

“You’re... not...” Hammerhead managed weakly.

“Ha! Got you to talk! Guess I am your superior after—” Brick’s forced cheer died in his throat as Guntram appeared beside them, holding a hammer whose head glowed an angry cherry-red. Brick could only appreciate the irony for a moment.

“Haltet ihn fest,” the griffon said.

Brick didn’t need a translation. He grabbed Hammerhead’s shoulders, leaning close to the captain’s ear. “Okay, how about this—you stay conscious through this, and I promise never to call you ‘Cappy’ again.”

The sizzle of hot iron meeting flesh filled the air. Hammerhead’s body went rigid under Brick’s hooves, a choked sound escaping through clenched teeth. The stench made Brick’s eyes water, but he didn’t look away.

“Unless,” Brick continued, his voice barely steady, “you actually secretly like it. In which case, I’ll never stop. Your choice, big guy.”

The captain’s only response was a grunt, but his eye refocused. It was enough. Brick let out a long breath, his legs trembling. The heat had done its work. The bleeding stopped.

He became aware of other sounds returning: the wind’s constant howl, the commotion of concerned voices around them. Someone—probably Martha—was saying something about cleaning and properly bandaging the wound. Brick nodded without really hearing the words.

To Brick, as he watched Hammerhead’s wound being dressed, it all felt distant. Like watching a play where he’d somehow forgotten his lines but had to keep going anyway. Only the cold touch of Hammerhead’s hoof on his foreleg kept him anchored to the moment.

“That’s the last time,” the captain croaked, “I let you call me ‘Cappy.’”

Brick managed a weak chuckle. “Sure thing... Captain Grumpyface.”

Suddenly, that brass ring of alarm cut through the air again.

No. It couldn’t be.

“OTHER YETI MOVING!” Crompus shouted.

Brick shot up and turned to the west. Grimhorn, Ingville and Dromius were already reforming the defense line. They planted their thick hooves in the snow while raising weapons carved from the bones of their homeland.

But instead of charging, Ignatius lumbered towards Bob’s body.

“Look!” Melody yelled. “It’s coming to help its friend!”

The surviving yeti crouched over its fallen companion. Claws sunk into flesh and its jaw opened wide. Nature took its course, red on white.

“Oh Celestia!” Melody’s voice cracked with horror.

She led Leroy away. But Brick was held captive by the sight of Ignatius methodically devouring its former companion. He lowered himself beside Hammerhead again.

“I know you were really looking forward to round two. But I’m afraid the Hammerhead versus yeti rematch is cancelled.”

“I’m… I’m good to go,” the captain mumbled. “Just point me towards the enemy.”

“Not today, big guy.” Brick watched Ignatius drag what remained of Bob across the snow, leaving a dark trail. “Think the battle’s over for now.”

As if to emphasize his point, Martha appeared with fresh bandages and a stern expression that brooked no argument. The captain breathed a deep sigh and his muscles relaxed. His grip on Brick’s foreleg finally went slack.

Brick pushed himself up, his own legs still shaky. The defensive line remained in place, the yaks' eyes fixed on the horizon where their enemy had vanished.

They had won this fight. Everyone was still alive.

That had to be enough.

Author's Note

As always, big thanks to mellon for proofreading and editing.

Check out the new Melody art we got in my recent blog!