Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

He sat in the storage shed, surrounded by crates and barrels that formed a maze of supplies. The wooden walls creaked under the constant assault of the northern wind. Through gaps in the damaged planks, he could see snow blowing in the predawn darkness. A lone torch cast flickering shadows that seemed to writhe like the ones from his dream. No—not his dream. Her dream. Her world.

His team was gathered around him, their faces illuminated by the fire’s glow. Martha perched atop a crate of preserved vegetables, her mane perfectly styled into a functional knot. Hammerhead’s bulk filled the doorway, his uniform as immaculate as ever. Melody sat cross-legged on the floor, her white coat glowing almost ghostly in the dim light.

“So,” Martha broke the silence, “you spoke with her.” Her voice sounded raspy.

Brick nodded. He fought back a shudder. “We had a wee chat alright. She also took my brain on a little field trip. It was real charming. Like having your skull turned inside out and scrubbed with steel wool.”

Melody winced. She leaned forward. “Did she...” She swayed slightly and caught herself on a nearby crate. “Did she explain about the crystals?” She hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they’d gathered, her wings twitching at random intervals.

“Whoa there, kid.” Brick moved to steady her. “When’s the last time you actually slept? And I mean really slept, not just passed out over your work?”

“I’m fine,” Melody insisted, but her voice lacked its usual sparkle.

“I’m fine,” Brick echoed sarcastically. “Kid, I’ve heard you say ‘I’m fine’ about a hundred times now. But let’s be honest, you haven’t been ‘fine’ ever since we got here. It’s like your work is sucking out your energy.”

“The crystals just… It’s like they know something is wrong.”

“Poor dear is just like her mother,” Martha murmured, then immediately looked like she regretted it.

Melody’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, dear. However, you must admit that your dear mother is known for her dedication. Perhaps a little too much dedication at times.”

“You don’t know her,” Melody muttered. “Nopony really does. Not even me…”

Brick didn’t know what to say to that, and apparently neither did the others. The shed settled into an uneasy silence.

Melody took a deep breath and her eyes refocused on Brick. “You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Brick. Did the princess explain about the crystals?”

“Luna didn’t content herself with a mere explanation.” Brick shook his head. “No, no, no. Not our Princess of the Night. She felt it appropriate to provide me with an extended tour of the apocalypse. Very, very extended.”

Brick caught a slight softening around Hammerhead’s eye. A barely perceptible twitch at the corners of his mouth. Weeks ago, Brick would’ve missed it entirely, but this counted as a sympathetic smile from the captain.

Brick walked them through his dream. The wasteland. Luna’s warnings about unchecked power. Her cryptic questions about sacrifice. With each detail, Melody’s expression grew more troubled.

“I too have seen the wasteland she showed you,” Hammerhead spoke up. “That’s what we’re trying to prevent. What both princesses are trying to prevent.”

Brick blew some air through his nostrils. “And how exactly will they do that?”

“The princesses are trying to contain Equestria’s… destructive potential,” Hammerhead answered quietly. “But if we become too powerful, if we can’t be trusted with our own future”—he leveled Brick with an even stare, and their eyes met—“then Eternity will set the clocks back to zero. Wipe the slate clean. Fresh start.”

“That’s horrible,” Melody squeaked.

Hammerhead shifted his gaze to her. “It’s the only way. Princess Celestia knows about it. She has always known.”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “Did she now? My dear captain, you didn’t think this was worth mentioning earlier?”

“I wasn’t permitted to. But since you know the secret now, there is no reason to keep silent.” Hammerhead shifted his weight—the smallest movement, but Brick knew that from him, it was practically a shout of discomfort. “I serve both princesses, but my first loyalty is to Princess Celestia. That’s precisely why I'm here.”

Brick glanced toward the Royal Guard and Night Guard patches on his uniform. The former did seem more well-worn.

“Because she wants you to make sure little sis doesn’t get up to anything too naughty?” Brick asked.

“Because Princess Celestia knows I would never do anything out here that’s not in the interest of Equestria.” Hammerhead’s eye gleamed in the firelight. “Princess Luna requested me specifically because she knew it would reassure Princess Celestia.”

“How comforting,” Martha drawled. “However, I take issue with my funds being used for this purpose. I don't recall ‘potential magical superweapon’ being mentioned in my contract. Looks like somepony’s going to get sued once we make it back.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Melody asked, surprise evidently overwhelming her exhaustion. “The contract?”

“A contract, my dear, is a promise.” For a moment, something raw and vulnerable flickered across Martha's face. “I did not get to where I am by letting ponies walk all over me, be they princesses or no. I do have my pride.”

“So… this is about your pride?” Brick pressed, not buying it for a second.

“It’s pride for what I do.” Martha slid off her crate and began to pace, her hooves making agitated clicks against the wooden floor. “I go where most dare not to.”

She turned to face the doorway, where the endless white expanse stretched behind Hammerhead’s silhouette. “Most ponies are content staying in their home, where it’s safe. But my kin are travelers and traders by nature.” Her voice wavered. “A lot of us don’t make it back once we go out.”

“Martha…” Melody started, but the jenny waved her off.

“Please, darling, spare me the pity.” Martha turned around with a flourish. Her smile almost hid the shine in her eyes. “But if we succeed here, it changes everything. No more lost expeditions. No more corpses in the snow. A permanent outpost, a safe haven in the Frozen North.”

Silence fell over the shed again. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath for a moment.

“And if it’s used to end the world as we know it?” Melody asked.

“Then I will have to trust the princesses that it was necessary,” Martha answered solemnly. She cleared her throat and somehow made even that seem graceful.

“If this really is necessary, why not tell us? Why hide it in the crystal matrix? Why...” Melody’s voice cracked slightly. “Why lie to me?”

Martha stepped forward, placing a gentle hoof on Melody’s shoulder. “My dear, sometimes those in power believe they’re protecting us by keeping us in the dark. That doesn’t justify their actions, but...”

Melody’s head dropped. “These crystals aren’t just tools. They’re alive, in their own way. They sing. They harmonize. You can’t just make changes like this and expect there to be no consequences.” She swallowed. “But if Princess Celestia believes in this...” Her voice became small, but there was a stubborn set to her jaw. “If both princesses agree...”

“Kid”—Brick sighed—“just because somepony powerful tells you something is necessary doesn’t make it right.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Melody’s wings flared. “But Princess Luna showed you what could happen.”

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

“We’re running out of time to debate this,” Hammerhead interjected. “Winter’s coming. The yaks are getting restless. Both princesses rely on us. We need to decide. Are we building this thing or not?”

For the third time that morning, silence fell over the shed. Outside, the wind still howled its savage song. Brick counted the days again in his head—sixty-three days of coal, ten days of gas. The numbers felt like a noose slowly tightening.

Brick found himself absently tracing a crack in the wooden floor with his hoof. In the old days, he never had to worry about things like this. Or at least, he never had to worry about them alone. A familiar ache tugged at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. Some decisions you had to make on your own.

“Screw it,” Brick grumbled, standing up. “I don’t trust that dream-walking princess farther than I can throw her, but we’re gambling with the end days in either case. Might as well trust the captain on this, stay out of jail and get justice for my partner. You guys in?”

He stretched out his hoof in front of him.

Melody rose as well, putting her hoof on top of his. “Princess Luna might have not been very honest, but maybe she did just want to protect us. Let’s do this for Equestria—for the princesses.”

Martha gave a polite chuckle before adding her hoof as well. “Whatever games our dear princesses may be playing, I’ve signed on to create a safe haven in the north, and that is what I will do.”

Their eyes turned to Hammerhead, who still hadn’t moved.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” Brick asked. “Didn’t you say Luna trusted Celestia to trust you to put her interest first, which means we can trust you?”

“Yes, but…” The captain gestured at their joint hooves. “Is that really necessary?”

“Please, Captain Hammerhead, do it for me?” Melody looked at him with puppy eyes.

Hammerhead groaned and mumbled something to himself as he walked toward them.

Just as he was about to add his hoof and complete the stack, a noise from the doorway made everypony turn.

“Entschuldigung.”

It was Guntram. The griffon stood there awkwardly, saying something in his sharp, guttural language.

“Oh, come on,” Brick moaned. “We were having a moment here?”

Martha nodded towards Guntram. “Captain Hammerhead, dear, you speak his language. Please, be so kind as to introduce us.”

“And ask him what he wants,” Brick added.

Hammerhead spoke in what Brick assumed was Griffish. The strange sounds seemed unnatural coming from the captain’s mouth. The only thing he could make out were the names of him and his friends.

Him and his team, Brick quickly corrected himself.

“Guntram von Grauhorst,” the griffon introduced himself with a slight bow.

Martha bowed as well. Brick only lowered his head by the tiniest of fractions.

The exchange continued. Guntram was wringing his claws and Brick thought he could hear worry in his voice. Hammerhead’s responses were clipped and formal.

Finally, the captain switched back to Equish. “Mr. Guntram says he is worried about Miss Melody. He’s asking if he can do anything to help.”

“What a surprise.” Brick rolled his eyes. “Romareo over here is worried about Miss Melody, is he?”

“Oh, Mr. Brick,” Martha drawled, “you were also young once. Let them be.”

Melody’s cheeks reddened. “You know I’m standing right here. Right?”

The griffon approached, took her hoof between his claws and said something in his language. Brick didn’t understand, but Melody’s face turned even more crimson.

Brick stepped past them and out the door. He yelled over his shoulder, “I don’t care what you get up to in your own time, kid, but I need those crystals ready yesterday. Chop chop.”

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

The workshop hummed with an energy that made Brick’s coat stand on end. Melody had cleared the center of the room, creating a perfect circle marked with chalk and arcane symbols. The first crystal—nearly as tall as a pony—stood within, its facets still dull and lifeless. For now.

“You sure about this, kid?” Brick asked, watching Melody arrange her tools. Tuning forks of various sizes, each carved from pure crystal, were laid out in a precise pattern around the circle. Melody herself looked healthier than the week before. Her expression was more vibrant again, but the shadows under her eyes hadn’t faded.

She nodded, though her wings trembled slightly. “The internal structure is already mostly aligned from the manufacturing process. I just need to...” She picked up the smallest tuning fork with her teeth. “...whakeh ith uph.”

Martha and Hammerhead stood at opposite corners of the room. The jenny held a cloth-wrapped bundle that Brick knew contained one of the overflow batteries. It wouldn’t help much if things went wrong, but it was better than nothing. The captain’s stance was rigid, his eye fixed on the crystal.

“Remember,” Melody said, her voice tight with concentration, “once I start, nopony moves or speaks. Any external vibrations could disrupt the harmonic patterns.” She paused. “And try to think happy thoughts.”

She struck the first tuning fork.

The sound was pure and clear, hanging in the air like frozen starlight. The crystal responded with the faintest of glimmers. It was more a suggestion of light than actual illumination. Melody moved in a slow circle, striking the fork at precise intervals. Each note seemed to layer upon the previous ones, building something just beyond the edge of hearing.

Brick found himself holding his breath. The air felt thicker somehow, charged with potential. He could have sworn the shadows in the corners of the room were growing darker, more substantial.

Melody switched to a larger fork. This one’s tone was deeper, resonating in Brick’s chest like a second heartbeat. The crystal’s glow strengthened. Patterns began to dance across its surface—geometric shapes that folded upon themselves in ways that hurt his eyes if he looked too long.

The next fork was larger still. Its sound made the floorboards vibrate. The crystal’s light pulsed in rhythm with the notes, and for a moment, Brick thought he saw something moving within its depths. It looked like smoke, or water. Or something alive.

Sweat beaded on Melody’s forehead as she worked. Her movements were precise, almost like a dance, but Brick could see the strain in her face. This wasn’t just physical effort. Something else was happening here, something that worked on a deeper level.

The final fork was massive, and its handle was wrapped in protective cloth. When Melody struck it, Brick felt the sound in his bones. The crystal blazed with sudden light, and in that moment, he sensed it: a song that wasn’t a song, a harmony that existed somewhere between sound and silence.

The crystal was waking up.

Melody’s wings spread wide as she moved through the final sequence. Her eyes were closed, but her movements were sure. She wasn’t just working on the crystal anymore. She was part of its song, guiding it, shaping it.

The light grew brighter. The song grew stronger. The shadows in the corners began to move.

“Almost...” Melody whispered through clenched teeth. “Almost...”

The unheard song reached a crescendo. Light burst from every facet, casting rainbow patterns across the walls. For one terrible moment, Brick thought he saw faces in those patterns—smokey grimaces with strange teeth that had never known true pony form, distorted into quiet screams.

Then everything settled. The light dimmed and the song faded to a gentle hum just below the threshold of hearing. The shadows retreated to their corners.

Melody dropped.

Brick rushed towards her. Her coat was damp with cold sweat, but her eyes sparkled with triumph.

“It worked,” she managed between heavy breaths. “It’s awake.”

“That’s great, kid.” Brick helped her to her hooves, trying to ignore how his own legs were shaking. “Real great. Maybe next time with less cosmic horror?”

Martha approached the crystal cautiously. “Fascinating. Simply fascinating. It’s not just glowing—it’s... breathing?”

She was right. The crystal’s light pulsed in a steady rhythm. The room felt different, though Brick couldn’t explain why.

Hammerhead maintained his position by the door. His eye never left the crystal. “Is it stable?”

“Stable enough,” Melody said. She dropped back her head and stared momentarily at the ceiling. “But this is just the first one. We need four primary crystals, plus the focus crystal, plus all the support structures...” She trailed off, looking even more exhausted.

“One crystal at a time,” Brick said firmly. “For now, let’s get this beauty to its new home.”

They’d prepared a special carrying frame, padded with the softest materials they could spare. Even so, moving the crystal was like transporting a beating heart. In this sensitive state, any sudden shock could trigger a chain reaction in the crystal. So every step had to be perfect, every movement precise.

As they maneuvered it through the door, Brick caught his reflection in one of its facets. For a moment, his image seemed to ripple and change. He saw older, younger, different versions of himself that might have been or might yet be.

He looked away quickly. Some things, he decided, were better left unseen.

Once outside the workshop, the group walked into a gathering of yaks. They seemed to sense that something momentous was happening. Their usual boisterous energy was subdued, replaced by something akin to reverence. They followed the crystal, maintaining a respectful distance.

As the team approached the foundation site, the crystal’s glow intensified. It was responding to something—the ley lines maybe, or whatever magical currents Luna had chosen this site for.

“It knows,” Melody whispered. “It knows this is where it belongs.”

Brick wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or terrifying.

The mounting process was delicate work. The seed crystal had to be placed perfectly within the foundation, its orientation precise to within a fraction of a degree. Melody directed them with quiet authority. Her earlier exhaustion seemed forgotten in the intensity of the moment.

When the final connection was made, the crystal’s hum changed. It became stronger, more purposeful. The sound came from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if the very air was vibrating.

“One down,” Brick said, trying to sound casual despite the chill running down his spine. “Three more to go.”

Martha gave a somewhat shaky laugh. “Oh, is that a—”

She was cut off by a coughing fit.

“You okay there?” Brick asked.

“It’s just the dry air.” The jenny waved her hoof dismissively.

“Alright. Enough talking,” Brick announced, turning to address the gathered yaks. “Time to get building. Kām śuru garau!”

The yaks’ eyes lit up at hearing their own tongue and the effect was immediate. The site erupted into motion. Work had been a long time coming—weeks of preparation had left the yaks eager for real construction.

Their endless preparation had paid off. Brick gave them some pointers and directed some of the more hesitant hoofwork, but their movements were well rehearsed and precise. It only took the yaks half an hour to ready the site. Then it was time for the building material to be joined with the seed crystal Brick and his team had just placed.

He watched in fascination as the yaks gingerly poured the first batch of building material on the crystal. The building material was itself a mixture of crystal and sand. The moment it touched the awakened crystal base, it changed. The loose grains cohered as if drawn together by an invisible force, becoming almost clay-like in consistency. It was perfect for molding and shaping, requiring only minimal wooden supports to hold its form.

The worksite had become a mess of organized chaos. Tools scattered across sawdust-covered snow, ropes and pulleys swaying in the wind, the sharp scent of fresh-cut wood mixing with coal smoke. The crystal’s steady pulse was just another part of the site now, blending with the rhythm of hammers and saws like some weird new piece of equipment. Brick breathed it all in. After weeks of mystical crystal nonsense and princess drama, this finally felt familiar. This he understood.

As he watched the pillar take shape, he remembered Melody explaining how it would all work. “The seed crystal doesn’t just give the mixture cohesion,” she had said, her wings fluttering with excitement. “It actually makes the new material part of itself. Like a body using food to grow new cells. This way, Eternity can grow and repair itself over time. All it needs is some appropriate material.”

“So, what, it’ll just keep growing forever?” he had asked. “Swallow up the whole North?”

Melody had laughed and shaken her head. “No more than you keep growing forever. Everything grows to the size it needs to be, then stops. Eternity will be the same.”

Already, he could see what she meant. Before placing the first crystal, they had positioned the overflow batteries at precise locations around the foundation. The batteries started to react to the growing pillar. Their crystalline surfaces began to take on the same pulsing glow as the seed crystal, becoming part of its network. The wooden supports would come down eventually, but the crystal array would stand for thousands of years, maintaining itself just as she had described. Hopefully.

However, until Eternity was actually ready, it was like operating on an open heart. Any magic around it was a risk. If there was too much for the overflow batteries to handle, it would cause a violent magical chain reaction in the main structure.

Boom.

Looking at the bustle around him, Brick felt something like pride. They would build four pillars, each anchored by a seed crystal, aligned perfectly with the cardinal directions. When joined at the top, they would form a spire unlike anything ever built in Equestria. But for now, he was content to focus on this first pillar, on the familiar rhythm of construction.

Melody leaned against Brick. He felt her shaking, but her face held a distinct note of pride.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the crystal she’d brought to life.

“Yeah, kid.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Beautiful and terrifying. Just like everything else worth doing.”

With the placement of the first crystal, a second countdown started ticking in Brick’s head. The last possible date for their airship pickup was in forty-nine days. If they weren’t done by then, they’d either have to stay the winter or the cold and their dwindling supplies would force them to abort.

Forty-nine days until pickup.
Sixty-two days of coal, ten days of gas.

They had a lot of problems. But now they had something else too. A crystal beating in time with the pulse of the world, singing songs not meant for pony ears.

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

“Rāmro kām!” Brick called out as Crompus maneuvered another support beam into position. The bulky yak’s eyes lit up at the praise. Crompus often had a nervous energy about him, but when he channeled it into determination, he was a dependable worker.

The first primary crystal had transformed their worksite. Its light drew the eye, making the wooden scaffolding around it seem both mundane and somehow significant. Even in the dim morning light, rainbow patterns danced across the snow where its glow touched the ground.

“You’ve been studying Yakish,” Martha observed, her breath freezing in the frigid air.

“Figured if they’re going to build my masterpiece, least I can do is learn how to say ‘good work’ and ‘be careful’ in their language.”

Brick watched as Grimhorn and Ingville worked in perfect sync to secure a crossbeam.

“Besides, it beats listening to Hammerhead’s scout reports for entertainment. Nothing out west. Nothing out east. Nothing out north. Nothing out south. Nothing, nothing, nothing but frozen fucking tundra.”

“Indeed. Though I must say, your pronunciation is positively atrocious.” Martha’s chuckle quickly turned into another coughing fit.

Brick made a mental note to talk to her about that, but right then, he had a construction to manage.

“Hey, Dromius!” Brick called to a particularly massive yak. “Timro chorī ko bihā kasto bhayo?”

The yak’s entire face lit up. “WEDDING GOOD! MANY YAK SMASH MANY THINGS!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Brick made another note to ask Martha later what exactly he’d said. He’d been memorizing phrases phonetically.

The construction itself was like an intricate dance. The seed crystal had to be encased in the claylike mixture to form the base of the first pillar. Everything had to be placed just so, to ensure the crystal remained stable.

“Hāmro kām rāmro huncha,” Brick said to Gruntwig, who was hesitating with a crucial support strut. Brick hoped he’d said ‘our work will be excellent’. The elderly yak had an artist’s eye for detail, but sometimes needed encouragement to trust his instincts.

Martha smoothly added something in more fluent Yakish that made Gruntwig’s eyes crinkle with pride. He proceeded to place the beam with flawless precision.

“You know,” Martha said quietly, “for a pony who claims not to care about anything, you’re remarkably good at this.”

“At what? Ordering them around while butchering their language?”

“At making them feel valued.” She nodded toward where Leroy—the youngest of their crew, barely more than a calf—was carefully measuring angles under Gruntwig’s guidance. “You remembered about his mother’s alfalfa cake recipe.”

“That’s rich coming from Lady ‘Oh I’m totally just in it for the money.’” Brick booped her muzzle. “It’s all just cold, calculating pragmatism. You make your workers feel special, make them feel respected. They’ll do anything for you.” He paused. “Also, those cakes are amazing. Think we can get the recipe?”

Before Martha could answer, a sickening crack split the air. One of the cross-braces had shifted, destabilizing an entire section of scaffolding. The filling material around the awakened seed crystal was already starting to shift. The crystal’s pulse quickened, its light flickering erratically.

Brick’s blood ran cold as he saw the strange shapes beginning to reemerge in the air around the crystal—those geometric patterns that shouldn’t exist in three-dimensional space, casting shadows that moved independent of any light source.

“Sāvadhāna!” Brick shouted, already galloping towards the pillar.

The yaks froze in place.

The scaffolding groaned as it shifted. If it fell on the crystal, the alignment could be thrown off completely. And an unstable crystal of this size...

Brick didn’t finish that thought. He launched himself at the nearest support beam, bracing his body against it. His muscles screamed in protest. The angry creaks of the wooden supports continued, but as long as he held firm, they wouldn’t collapse.

Through the crystalline facets, he caught glimpses of things that made his eyes hurt: those faces that were almost pony-like but wrong, landscapes that seemed to fold in on themselves.

“Dromius!” he called out through gritted teeth, “You’ve got the steadiest hooves I’ve seen this side of the Crystal Mountains. Think you can reach that brace while I hold this?”

The yak’s eyes widened, but he nodded.

The crystal’s flickering light grew more erratic, each flash accompanied by whispers that scratched at the edges of Brick’s consciousness. The words were alien, impossible—yet somehow almost comprehensible, like a half-remembered dream. Just as his mind started to grasp their meaning, something burst behind his eyes, and warm blood streamed from his nose.

Time for a desperate gambit.

“Grimhorn, Ingville—remember that tongba-drinking song you were teaching me yesterday? How about a verse or two? Nice and slow.”

The two friends exchanged glances, then began a deep, rhythmic chant. Other yaks joined in. Dromius moved in time with the song, his movements precise and controlled.

Martha caught on immediately. She added her voice to the chorus, her soprano blending surprisingly well with the yaks’ deeper registers.

Brick’s legs trembled with effort, but he didn’t dare move until Dromius secured the brace. Slowly, terrifyingly slowly, the strange manifestations began to fade. The crystal’s light calmed, pulsing in harmony with their voices.

By the time Dromius finished, Brick’s whole body ached, but the scaffolding was secure. The mystical geometries had vanished, leaving only the crystal’s regular glow.

Thank the stars. I can’t believe that actually worked.

“TINY PONY SMART!” Tormand’s voice boomed from behind them. “USE YAK SONG TO MAKE CRYSTAL PEACEFUL!”

“Nah,” Brick said, dropping to the ground and shaking away the sting in his hooves. “It was all you guys.” He turned to Martha. “How do you say ‘let’s take a break’ in Yakish?”

Martha relayed his words to the yaks, but Brick was busy wiping blood from his muzzle.

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

The first pillar rose steady and strong. No more crystal mishaps had occurred since that near-disaster three days ago. Brick watched from his usual morning spot as Tormand’s crew rotated off the night shift. The new safety protocols had cost them precious time, but better slow than spectacularly dead.

He pulled out his battered notebook, checking off another day. The numbers stared back at him: forty-five days until pickup, fifty-eight days of coal, ten days of gas. According to his latest calculations, they’d complete the project just days before the latest possible pickup date—assuming nothing else went wrong.

Brick snorted. In his experience, something always went wrong.

His gaze drifted to Melody’s workshop. Light spilled from beneath the door despite the early hour—she was already at it again. The strain of working with the crystals was obviously still wearing on her, though she tried to hide it. At least that griffon of hers made sure she ate regularly. Something still felt off about Guntram, but Hammerhead kept watch, and so far, the only crime the griffon seemed guilty of was excessive attention.

Brick took a sip of his steaming tea and let his thoughts shift to Hammerhead. The captain was late finishing his morning patrol. Usually by now he’d be landing with his customary “Nothing to report”-report. But today...

“Movement on the western perimeter!” Hammerhead’s voice cut through the morning fog as he landed heavily beside Brick. His feathers were crusted with frost and his breath came in sharp bursts. With all the overflow batteries they’d installed, Melody had permitted the captain to use his wings around the site. The batteries easily absorbed the emissions of his pegasus magic.

“Not more nothing?” Brick asked, but something in the captain’s stance made him reach for the spyglass.

“Large figure. Bipedal. About two miles out.”

Through the lens, Brick found it—a monstrous, white-furred creature standing motionless in the distance. Even from here, he could see that its eyes were fixed on their worksite.

“Somepony call Gruntwig. He knows all about this wildlife stuff,” Brick commanded.

After a few minutes, the old yak joined them, Martha and Melody in tow. Brick handed him the spyglass.

“Yeti,” Gruntwig said after he’d peered through it. The gray yak’s voice carried none of its usual bombast. “Bad sign. Very bad.”

The yak licked his lips. “Yeti feed all summer. Store fat. Sleep winter. If yeti down here now...” He shook his massive head. “Mean yeti not find enough food. Fat yeti is nice yeti. Hungry yeti dangerous. Very, very dangerous.”

“Can’t we give it some of our food?” Melody suggested.

Gruntwig poked Brick’s belly. “Yeti prefer different kind of food.”

“But it’s just watching us,” Melody said, her wings tight against her sides.

“For now,” Gruntwig agreed grimly.

“Captain Hammerhead,” Brick barked, “you’re our security expert. Can’t you… I don’t know… fight it off, or something?”

Hammerhead leveled a stare at Brick as he answered, “Once a soldier turns to violence, he has already lost the fight.”

“What?”

“Something my old captain used to say.”

Brick shook his head. “Please less philosophizing and more dealing with the problem at hoof.” He added with a grumble, “Also, that didn’t stop you back on the airship.”

The slate blue pegasus considered this for a moment.

“We can try to rush in and scare it off, but I can’t guarantee that we’ll all make it back. A creature this size is more likely to think that breakfast has decided to serve itself rather than run away. I figure it’s keeping its distance because of the worksite itself. Probably hasn’t ever seen anything like it.”

It was Hammerhead’s turn to shake his head. “Rule zero of fighting is to only fight when you absolutely must. Or when you know you’ll win.”

“Okay,” Brick mumbled, “putting that on the list of things we shouldn’t do.”

Hammerhead blew some air through his nostrils. “Let’s not overreact. The yeti hasn’t shown any sign of aggression and maybe it never will. Still, we need to be ready if it does. Safest thing would be to train up some yaks to fight together. Build up some defenses. Post guards around the clock.”

“Wonderful. That would only cost us time and material, both of which we lack.”

The captain shrugged. “You can also ignore it and pray.”

“Fine,” Brick groaned. “You can have Crompus and Dromius for their size and Ingville and Grimhorm because they work well together. Take that bloody griffon as well while you’re at it.

“But no more than two hours of training each day. I’ll create a guard rotation. Won’t help with finishing the project on time, but safety first and all that crap.”

“What about defenses?”

Brick scratched his growing stubble. “We got some spare materials in the shed. It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

Burnt Brick’s mouth tasted of ash.

Author's Note

As usual, huge thanks to mellon for editing and proofreading. Also huge thanks to the anonymous pre-reader from EQD for their endless patience and detailed feedback.