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!