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