Grossly Incandescent

by Crack Javelin

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Princess Luna, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Human
Length: 136190

Thrust headlong into a strange new world, Solaire of Astora must make amends before he can continue with his mission. Unbeknownst to them all, a shadow from his past approaches.

Thrust headlong into a strange new world, Solaire of Astora must make amends before he can continue with his mission. Unbeknownst to them all, a shadow from his past approaches.

Grossly Incandescent

A Dark Souls / MLP Crossover

Published 2012-11-06 23:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-24 14:52:43 UTC

Chapter One - Scar Tissue

For eight years running she had attended the annual guest speaker’s seminar. Celebrated scientists and professors—every year a different alumni was called upon by the princess herself to not only kick off the new school year with an interesting speech on modern magic, but to also inspire students to reach farther than they had ever thought possible. As they say, magic is only as powerful as the pony behind it.

But no matter how driven, she was not prepared for this.

When Twilight Sparkle crinkled the papers beneath her hooves and glanced out into the sea of dimmed faces, she could only wonder what Celestia was thinking when she had asked her to be this year’s honorary guest speaker. From her spot on center stage, the now-foreign lecture hall was about as welcoming as a manticore’s den in the middle of winter. Hundreds of eyes followed her every move, and so silent was her audience, her own shaky breaths seemed deafening.

A small cough echoed through the assembly, and for a second, Twilight wondered whether accepting the princess’s last-minute invitation was such a good idea after all. There she stood behind the famous podium—the youngest speaker in the school’s history and still a student in her own right—about to lecture ponies not much older than herself.

Twilight’s throat tightened. She was given a two-hour timeslot, but on such short notice, all the material she and Spike were able to come up with amounted to a paltry three sheets of paper, growing increasingly tattered the longer they remained between her worried hooves.

She would have faltered then. She would have fled from the prying eyes. She would have wilted like a dead leaf had it not been for those special ponies sitting in the front row. Her friends; her harbor; her stone—they all smiled up at her, offering up the kind of silent encouragement that only a true friend could give.

Applejack, despite looking the most out of place amongst the student body, appeared just as interested in Twilight’s lecture as they.

Pinkie Pie was surprisingly still present in her seat, but was whispering into Rainbow Dash’s ear, to whom the pegasus whispered back a furious ‘Twilight was about to start and that she should shut her pink face’ but managing to be the loudest one in the room.

Fluttershy, bless her heart, had not disappeared between the seat cushions following the applause they had received moments before, and Rarity, with this year’s Gala not even two days away, had taken time out of her busy schedule just so she could attend.

And then there was Princess Celestia, who in all her radiance simply gave Twilight the smallest of nods and the smallest of smiles, the simple act meaning more than words ever could.

Nothing more needed to be said.

Twilight Sparkle put on her bravest face and began.

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 1 - Scar Tissue

A pale, orange light illuminated the cavern walls. Bones of giant creatures long dead were scattered across the ground. All around them, black shadows pressed in, staved off only by the tiny flame guttering weakly at their feet. The two figures exchanged glances, and slowly, the knight crouched down in front of the fire.

Solaire held his hand above the wavering flame, orange wisps dancing between his fingers. A moment passed before he pulled away, sighing as he settled onto his rear.

“It’s getting harder to feel the warmth,” he said.

The woman pulled tight at her ash-grey cloak before sitting down next to him.

“No one’s tended this fire in a long time,” she replied, frost forming on her breath. “Years, maybe. I can’t say for certain.”

Solaire turned to the side and caught glimpse of his companion, her face barely visible in the dark cavern. Shortened black hair framed her worn features, a frown was formed on her lips, and only by the glow of the fire did Solaire notice the bags under her eyes.

She was frail. Thin, as if under all the hardened leather and tattered cloth was a bundle of sticks crudely lashed together to resemble a human being.

“You sound tired,” Solaire said.

“And you sound too happy... considering the circumstances.” She smirked. “Does the thought of slaying a god fill your heart with excitement?”

“You know I don’t condone death unless absolutely necessary.”

“What about this death? Is this one necessary?”

“Adria, please.”

“A jest,” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

Various sounds filled the air as Adria began rummaging through her pack. Withdrawn was a tightly bound scroll and with a practiced flick of her wrist, she had the parchment unrolled by the dim light, her eyes quickly scanning the information inside.

Solaire inched closer to the flame, content with keeping himself warm. As he held his hands above the fire, sensation slowly returned to his fingertips, a dull ache that he squeezed away with clenched fists.

The small flame was not like other fires. From the fine, white ash at the flame’s base rose ribbons of orange light, swaying in otherworldly winds like a ballerina in the dark. Stranger still, the flame produced not a sound. Not a pop or crackle, only a faint humming—a sweet, dulcet tone that washed away all worry.

In this forsaken kingdom however, Solaire knew he could not so easily discard his woes.

The horrors, they waited.

They waited for prey.

Always waiting.

Lordran, once the land of the gods... now the home of monsters.

If the creatures up above were terrifying, then Solaire could only guess at what lurked further underground.

He breathed out a sigh, letting his mind wander. In the past, he had seen hundreds of bonfires scattered all across the land. At night they acted as beacons, drawing in the weary like moths to a light.

No doubt they held some mystery, but Solaire was no scholar. He had no desire of rooting out the flame’s secrets. All he needed to know was that the fires kept him sane. The lingering doubt; the cold fear; the hopelessness—all burned away by the bonfires of Lordran.

An ancient magic, Adria had called them. She had many theories, but even with all her knowledge she could only come up with one explanation for the bonfires.

Solaire shut his eyes and let old voices fill his head.

An entire ocean of energy, Adria had once explained to him. The world’s lifeforce given form.

It was our light, our strength—we relied on it for everything... and now it’s gone. Fish can’t survive without water, Solaire, and we can’t survive in a world without magic.

So here we are... floundering in a shallow, dirty pool in the middle of a never-ending desert. The land is dry and cracked. Where there was once an ocean is now just dust and scattered puddles.

The fires are fading.

The darkness spreads...

“Our world is dying.” Solaire opened his eyes.

Adria stirred, looking up from a scroll she had just unwound. She quirked an eyebrow when he failed to elaborate.

“Something wrong?”

Solaire waved off her concern with a weak chuckle.

“I was just thinking of something you said long ago.”

“What about?” she asked, frowning as she slowly lowered the scroll onto her knees.

“I didn’t think much of it at the time, but... I suppose it has stuck with me.” He looked skyward, but the action proved meaningless. So dark was the cavern, if it were not for the dust in the air he would have thought he was looking up at a starless sky.

A chuckle escaped his lips. “You were talking about fish of all things, and how they don’t realize they need water until they’re sucking air... until it’s too late.”

“Solaire?”

He shook his head. “It’s magnificent, the things we remember. A century’s worth of memories, and this is what I recall.”

She gave him knowing look. The parchment crinkled between her fingers as she set the scroll off to the side. Afterward, she reached out, her gloved hand coming to a rest on his shoulders.

“We can set this right,” Adria said. “We can set everything right. The prophecy; our curse—no one else needs to suffer as we have. We just...”

“Need to slay a god,” Solaire finished for her. “So simple a plan, but it’s the execution that matters, doesn’t it? No easy feat, I’m sure.”

He had heard only whispers of Gravelord Nito. A towering monster of shadow and bone, the god had sequestered himself away into the darkest corner of Lordran, into a place where no mortal would dare disturb him.

Solaire could only wonder why Nito had chosen to stay behind in this forsaken kingdom when all the other gods had fled. He silently pondered this. The shepherd of death watching over a dead land—perhaps Gravelord Nito was just as chained to this place as they.

“We won’t fail,” Adria said, looking away. “We’ve come too far. Endured so much. I promise you, we won’t fail.”

“When have we ever?” Solaire replied, smiling at her despite the helmet covering his face. “You’ve grown so strong, you know. I might not show it, but this quest... it weighs heavy on my shoulders. Truly, I’m lucky to have you here. To have you fighting by my side, it is an honor I cannot repay.”

Adria gave his arm a squeeze.

“It’s funny that you bring up old memories,” she said, staring off into the dark. “I still remember what you said when we first met... that we all need something to fight for.”

Solaire nodded once, and then twice. He wore his convictions plain on his chest—a large, radiant sun handstitched into his tunic. The shield slung across his back bore the same image, the painted yellows and reds chipped away by the ravages of time. To a stranger, it would be no mystery as to what higher power he believed in.

She pulled away, leaving an uncomfortable silence between them. Hesitation clung to her as a somber look crossed her face—an expression he found her wearing wore more and more.

“I’ve come to know you well, Solaire. You’re so focused... so single-minded, I—” Adria swallowed forcibly, averting her gaze.

“It scares me sometimes,” she whispered, “how selfless you can be, but how selfish your goal is. You speak so highly of the sun as if... that ball of fire is the thing that will eventually save us.”

Solaire made no motion to speak. He had heard it all before—that he was just a fool reaching for something unattainable. Coming from her though, the words cut just a little deeper.

Adria took a deep breath and spoke with a renewed vigor.

“You are a knight, so you must know the value of an oath. Just know this. I’ll never forget the vows I made when you put that sword into my hand. And I swear it... I’ll do anything to make it so.”

He waited, but there came no response.

Even now, she was content with keeping her own convictions a secret. In all their time together, she had never once divulged what she had promised herself on that fateful day.

Solaire sighed.

“Adria, we all have our beliefs. You have yours and I have mine, but in the end it doesn’t matter what they are. What’s important is that they give you courage when there is none to be found.” Solaire nodded, collecting his thoughts. “Think about this. Me, you, the hundreds who’ve come before us. Ultimately, we have all gathered in this land for one reason.”

“To break the curse.”

“To break our curse,” Solaire affirmed. “Strength of will is the only thing that keeps us tied to this world now. Such is the nature of our affliction, we both know this.”

Adria sighed. “Then why repeat what you have told me hundreds of times before?”

“Because you still do not understand.”

“I understand enough.”

“Do you?” Solaire asked her. “I place my faith in the sun not because it is pretty, but because it gives me hope. You’ve chosen to believe in something else entirely. We may differ in our beliefs, Adria, and yet here we are. Tell me, after all we’ve been through, who’s to say we aren’t fighting for the same thing?”

He failed to notice the slight trembling in her hands.

“Yes... who’s to say?” she whispered back, the words suffocating in the dark. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. Just… just let me solve our visibility problem, okay?”

Before Solaire could offer a rebuttal, Adria shook her head and calmly unwound the faded yellow scroll from earlier. She was soon tracing a finger along the ancient runes and muttering obscurities under her breath, completely lost within the parchment.

He tried gauging her thoughts, but her expression was a mask of concentration. The slight furrow in her brow was the only thing that betrayed her annoyance, and even then, the cause could easily have been the poor lighting conditions. She brought the scroll up to her face, a few seconds passing before she let it back down with a sigh.

Always quick to abandon an argument, Solaire thought. Detecting a long wait, he took a deep breath and relished the reprieve. There was no telling how long they’d be there. In between the constant hikes and the short-lived, but often brutal battles, a moment to sit down and relax was something to be cherished. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out Adria’s blurred shape, the bonfire casting her large flickering shadow across the walls.

The minutes passed by in a blur, and as if detecting that her partner was on the edge of sleep, she let out a low, thoughtful hum.

“Hey,” she said as she rolled up the scroll and placed it back in her pack. “I think I’ve got it.”

Adria rose to her feet and tossed her cloak to the side, revealing a gnarled wooden stick strapped to the back of her belt. She undid the buckles and after one final click, she drew what looked like an ordinary walking staff out in front of her, nodding as she inspected it for damage.

Solaire watched her, bemused, as her fingers danced along the staff’s surface. To someone unfamiliar with sorcery, Adria’s reverence for the staff would no doubt come off as odd. Solaire, however, had seen enough of her magic to know that the piece of wood cradled in her hands was capable of immense destruction.

Looking up at her, he voiced his concern.

“A new spell?” asked Solaire.

“A very old one rather,” she said through a sidelong glance. “I didn’t think we’d ever find a use for it, but… yes, better to be prepared.”

“There’s the normal kind of preparation, and then there’s what you do. I’m sure if you looked hard enough, you’d find a spell for just about anything in that mess of papers!”

She shot him an upset look.

“They aren’t just papers, Solaire. They’re ancient scrolls, and it’s very important that someone catalogue them! Whole schools of magic have been lost because they never bothered sharing their teachings with outsiders!”

Adria patted the small bag hanging near her waist. “If there’s a silver lining to this crisis, it’s this. Just like you said, heroes from all over came to Lordran to put an end to this curse, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“But they weren’t all sword-wielding buffoons. There was bound to be a few intellectuals amongst them.”

Solaire, unsure of whether he should be offended, nodded in agreement. “So you found these sorcerers, picked their corpses and added their knowledge to your own.”

“If they were dead, yes.”

“We’re in Lordran,” Solaire said, chuckling. “Everyone is dead here.”

“You know what I mean…” Looking away, Adria blew out a sigh. “Listen, we really should get moving. The faster we can get out of this tomb, the better.”

Solaire hummed a reply and taking that as her cue, Adria took a step forward and thrust the staff into the air. Where her hand met wood came a single pulse of light—barely imperceptible and gone in a blink—but before Solaire could question whether the spell had failed, a small sphere of energy emerged from the tip of the staff, giving off a faint glow that illuminated the nearby cavern walls.

The pale, yellow orb rose and rose until it hovered lazily above her head, bobbing up and down like a fishing lure in calm waters.

A sun in miniature, Solaire thought as he looked up at the tiny spectacle.

Adria turned toward him and held out a hand.

“It’s time,” she said. “I’d hate to keep Nito waiting.”

He accepted her offer and pulled himself to his feet. Though Solaire stood a good head taller than her, he met her eyes with little trouble.

“You never did tell me,” Adria said looking up at him. “How you feel about all this.”

Solaire’s grin widened.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Nito may be a god, but he is not my god. Don’t worry... for the sake of us all, Gravelord Nito dies today.”

****

The sound of their boots crunching against the gravelly floor reverberated throughout the cavern. It was as if the dead silence within the tomb conspired against them, amplifying the rhythmic beat of their footfalls by a factor of ten.

Even with the magic light that Adria produced, they moved at an agonizingly slow pace. Centuries of erosion had taken its toll on the subterranean graveyard, leaving behind nothing but gaping chasms that ripped across the cave floors.

‘The safest way forward’, Adria had declared, was a narrow spit of land that ran along the right-most edge of the vast cavern. After mistakenly peering over the cliff’s edge, Solaire could only wonder as to what his partner would think actually qualified as dangerous. Where she walked with a slow but steady gait, Solaire groped at the rocky walls like a blind man without a cane, a futile attempt at putting as much distance between he and the drop as possible.

“Can you make it brighter?” Solaire asked as he stumbled along behind her.

“Brighter? Why? Do you fear the dark, Solaire?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but I fear the fall more.”

Solaire could almost hear the smirk carried in her voice.

“I hope that you are watching your feet then instead of something else. It’s a wonder that you always insist on taking point.”

“Come now, you enjoy watching my back as much as I enjoy watching yours,” said Solaire with a chuckle. “I take no offense—it’s only natural for a lady such as yourself to be drawn to a man like me.”

Adria slowed her step.

“I’d rather hang.”

“Cold words, my friend, but coming from you I suppose it’s nothing unexpected. If I were to give you my heart right now, you’d only return it to me in pieces by the end of the day.”

She gave a small laugh.

“Are you implying that I’m inexperienced in the matters of love, Solaire?”

For a long moment he thought hard on how he should respond, his footfalls forming an even rhythm with hers.

“Yes,” he said.

Adria absentmindedly scooped her hair into a ponytail before letting it fall loose.

“Well, Sir Knight, I suppose I should tell you that I was quite popular back in the academy. I was doted on by the professors, pursued by handsome boys, and oh… absolutely loathed by the other girls. I can’t say for certain, but at one point I think they conspired to have me smothered in my sleep they were so envious.”

Solaire wrinkled his chin. “This is the famous school of sorceries? I’d never have thought that such an esteemed group would even consider sororicide as a means of getting ahead of their peers.”

“I’m exaggerating of course,” she said, a little more subdued. “The Dragon School promoted a respect for power above all else. They would’ve never hurt me...”

Solaire smiled, eager to hear more. Her past had always been something of a mystery to him; something to be treasured when given, but never sought out. Unwilling to let the conversation die, he pushed on.

“What about your instructors? An exaggeration as well?”

She shook her head.

“So you were the best then,” he casually remarked.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied, a hand bracing against the wall when the path got too narrow. “I suppose I just had a natural advantage over the others. My… my parents were both sorcerers you see.”

Solaire scoffed. “Are you saying that your abilities are based solely on your bloodline? So modest!”

She shrunk a little.

“Solaire, please. Can we—”

“Do you think I was born with a sword in my hand? I may not know a lot about your craft, Adria, but I’ve seen what you can do. There’s natural-born talent, and then there’s the product of hard work.” A grunt escaped his lips when his tall stature forced him to duck under a rocky outcropping. “Trust me, it’s readily apparent when someone has possession of both.”

Her pace slowed.

“And how exactly do you judge that?” There was an edge creeping into her voice.

He smiled. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Adria turned to face him. Haggard eyes met his, her shoulders shook, and there was the slightest of tremors on her lips. When she finally spoke, gone were all traces of mirth, replaced by a palpable grief that weighed heavy on her voice.

“If I’m as powerful as you say... then why couldn’t I save myself? Why couldn’t I run or fight back, or just—” She took a quivering breath. “I just let it happen. I just them take me. Not exactly a desirable characteristic for someone trying to save all of humanity, is it?”

“Adria...”

“I never did tell you how it happened, did I?”

Solaire swallowed away the lump in his throat. When words failed him, all he could was shake his head, gesturing for her to continue.

She turned away, her magic light casting odd shadows across her face.

“When the school found out I was cursed… afflicted, everything I had accomplished there suddenly meant nothing. Yes, I was one of the most talented students in my section, but that didn’t stop them from slapping me in chains and sending me here.” She opened her mouth, closed it, and tried once more. “Dragged from my home, from my parents. Forced to cling to my last bits of sanity in a land without reason. Wh—”

Her breath hitched in her throat.

“What kind of life is that?” she whispered into the darkness.

Adria looked up, her gaze roaming over the surface of his helmet. Eventually, she settled on the two narrow slits that counted as Solaire’s eyes.

Her voice came out quiet and subdued. “What’s harder do you think? Remembering the past… or letting it all go?”

Solaire breathed in. Some questions, he knew, were easier to answer than others.

“Adria, I’m sorry. I was being selfish asking those things of you. It never occurred to me that I was opening old wounds.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, her eyebrows wrinkling. “I built a wall around myself even though I knew that one day it would come crashing down around me. I just didn’t think it would still hurt after all this time…”

Solaire reached out and clapped his hand against her shoulder. He grinned a small grin, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It hurts, remembering the past. Thinking on what could or should have been. Knowing that your life would be entirely different if you had never been cursed.” Solaire chuckled. “But that’s the beauty of it, don’t you see?”

“I-I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“If you were to let go of your past, let go of everything that haunts you… what would be left?” Solaire gave her shoulder a squeeze. “The curse wants you to forget. It needs you to empty yourself before it can take over. Haven’t you ever wondered why our enemies are called hollows?”

Adria’s eyes widened.

“Empty inside…”

“Their souls have left them,” Solaire said. “The very thing that once made them human, gone. So don’t let go of yourself, Adria. The pain reminds you that you’re still here. That you still exist.”

Her expression softened into something unreadable.

“I don’t know how you do it, Solaire... how you keep moving forward despite everything.” She looked up. “Don’t you miss it?”

His smile fell away slightly. “Miss what?”

“Being alive,” she murmured. “The curse stole your life away as it did mine, and you’re… what? You always seem so happy and cheerful, and it’s just- how do you do it?”

Adria breathed out a sigh.

“What’s your secret?”

Solaire chuckled. “It won’t be a secret any longer if I tell you.”

“Please,” she said.

He gave a slow nod and cleared his throat, diminishing any humor left in his voice.

“After asking you those questions, I suppose it’s only fair that I give you something in return. Very well. The truth, Adria... is that I chose this. I chose to become cursed.”

Her mouth fell open.

Solaire smiled. “I chose to become undead.”

****

“What is a soul?” Twilight Sparkle asked her audience. “Is it the well that we all draw magic from? Is it what defines us as ponies? Or is the soul something greater… the very source of life in us all?”

A hundred quills bathed in an array of lights simultaneously stopped in mid-air. Through the dim glow of their horns, she could make out the faces of a hundred unicorns staring back at her in wide-eyed curiosity, waiting with bated breath for her to continue.

A lightshow in slow-motion, Twilight thought as she looked out into the crowd. A hundred horns, a hundred scrolls and a hundred quills all coming together to form a beautiful cadence of scritches and scratches.

She opened her mouth, and all at once a hundred quill-tips clinked against the bottom of a hundred ink pots, the sweet sound echoing throughout the lecture hall.

Twilight smiled. This, this she could get used to.

“What if I proposed that the soul is all of these things? Magic, identity, and life; the well known Triumvirate Three! Not exactly the newest of ideas, but a safe topic for your dissertations nonetheless!”

A small chorus of laughter arose from the audience.

“As the scholars say, the soul is theorized to be the magic reservoir that all ponies draw from. When an earth pony grows too much crop at once, she might feel a tiredness in her bones that even a good night’s rest won’t cure. A pegasus might find that her wings won’t generate lift for the next hour after a long, international flight.”

Twilight gave her notes a shuffle before looking out into the crowd.

“And for unicorns, I’m sure we have all experienced first-hoof the effects of magic exhaustion. As the old adage goes, ‘If the horn pains, nothing good awaits.’”

In the front row, Applejack turned toward Rarity but before she could get a word in, Rarity whispered an incomprehensible something into the earth pony’s ear, prompting a slackened jaw and a chilled look. Applejack sunk back into her seat, a far-off gaze in her eyes.

“If your parents were anything like mine,” Twilight said, “they drilled it into your head from a very young age not to push yourself too far. They mean well of course, but even then, their warnings often fall on deaf ears. It’s not uncommon for an adolescent unicorn, her magic ability newly awakened, to try and earn her cutie mark in a needlessly reckless fashion...”

A few members of her audience gave sheepish, cursory glances before turning back to their scrolls. Four rows back, an older unicorn wearing a crumpled tie appeared as if he had been struck. The greyish stallion slowly lowered his quill before he let his horn go out.

Twilight Sparkle quickly cleared her throat. “Which I, ah… leads me to my next point! Cutie marks and the identity of self!”

She focused inwardly, picturing the image in her head before letting it flow out of her horn like water from an upturned cup. The crowd watched as her magic coalesced high above, forming a gigantic purple starburst that—Twilight realized too late—would not have looked all that out of place among Manehattan’s garish neon signs.

Twilight spared a glance toward the front row where a certain pink pony rocked in her seat. Their eyes met, and immediately Pinkie Pie gave her an enormous smile followed by an equally enormous wink. The floating cutie mark was her idea, after all.

“On some basic level,” Twilight started again, “we all know what a cutie mark is. It’s your first great accomplishment, it’s your signature on official documents, your stamp on letters, and a story to tell your grandfoals on a rainy summer morning.”

She scanned the crowd. “I’ll say it again, we all know what a cutie mark is, but how do you define it? Their existence can be traced as far back as the Pre-Royal era, and though enlightening, what historians have discovered is that the definition of the cutie mark hasn’t changed much at all in the past millennia. Or in essence… we still know next to nothing about them.”

Twilight paused, letting her words sink in.

“If somepony were to ask me to define a cutie mark, they would probably receive a thirty-page thesis that goes into great detail the effects of location variability, inherited interests and of course, nominative determinism!” A grin spread across her face. “Interesting stuff I know, but the amazing thing is, if a seven year-old filly were asked that same question, her likely response of ‘it’s what you’re best at’ would be just as good as mine.”

She rapped a hoof against the podium. “For all we know about cutie marks, there’s even more that we don’t. Are we destined to have a certain mark from birth, or is the outcome determined by outside influences? Is a pegasus a fast flyer because she has a lightning bolt cutie mark, or does she have a lightning bolt cutie mark because she dared to go faster than everyone else?”

Her mouth formed a thin crease.

“They’re all age-old questions. Do we influence the cutie mark, or does it influence us? What prompts it to appear in the first place? And perhaps the most important of all...” With a burst of magic, Twilight dispelled the image hanging above her head. Like miscolored snow, tiny purple specks fell across the stage.

“Why do our cutie marks disappear when we die?”

For a brief moment, her audience was overcome by a strange silence.

“Cutie Mark Dispersion Phenomena,” Twilight said, turning her focus toward her notes. “Another riddle that we are no closer to solving than our ancestors were. You know, I’m not exactly a right-brain thinker but I find it strangely poetic. We enter this world blank, and we leave it in much the same way…”

Chewing on her tongue, Twilight gave her papers a shuffle before looking up. The sudden realization hit her like a gust of cold air entering through an open window.

Every eye was trained on her, each quill at a complete stop. That familiar sensation in her chest returned, the sensation that she could only akin to missing a step on the stairs or miscalculating a teleportation spell.

“Eh heh, I-I think it just got a little grim in here,” Twilight said as she attempted a smile. “When you woke up this morning, you probably weren’t thinking that you were gonna receive a lecture on CMDP, huh? It’s true, it’s just one of those things that we can’t fully explain. The Everfree is wild, Princess Celestia moves the sun, and, well... cutie marks don’t last.”

The silence in the auditorium was deafening.

“But, um… I bring up these things for a reason, not only as a refresher but also as the basis for what I’ve come to talk to you all about today.” Twilight took a deep breath. “I’d like you to visualize a circle if you will, and lining this circle’s perimeter are three dots spaced an equal distance from each other. Or, uh, something like this.”

Her horn took light and began conjuring a purple ribbon that, within seconds, met at both ends to form a large hoop. She floated it off to the side so that it stood next to her podium.

“Magic, identity, and life,” Twilight said, adding a bright, yellow sphere to her hoop with each word. “these are the dots on your circle. These are the things that make you, you. Without life, there is no cutie mark. Without a cutie mark, there is no magic. And without magic… there is no life.”

Her eyes were drawn to the small wooden box resting between her hooves, safely out of sight behind the podium.

“The Triumvirate Three: an interconnected circle with no discernable beginning or end.” Twilight looked up, her gaze like steel. “Or so I thought.”

In the front row, the princess stirred.

Twilight flipped to the last page of her notes where a simple diagram lay: a rough sketch of the image she had just produced. She paused, taking a few calming breaths to combat the storm of nerves that lurked just beneath the surface.

Just say it.

She was painfully aware of Celestia’s deepening gaze.

Just say it, Twilight Sparkle.

She pursed her lips. “Two months ago… I, ah, started a series of controlled experiments in an attempt to, well—”

Just say it!

“—break free from the circle.”

A murmur of shock and confusion surged through the crowd. They whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, shooting her way the occasional suspicious glance. She couldn’t blame them either. The implications she had just laid down at their hooves were groundbreaking.

And also insane.

Her friends appeared more perplexed than perturbed. Rarity, the only other unicorn within their group, sat completely still, the slow shifting of her eyes and the slight rise and fall of her chest bespoke plenty of how much she understood.

Her mouth moved, breathing something incomprehensible.

Twilight blocked it from her mind. She had a lecture to finish.

“The Triumvirate Three is something that we created so that our world made a little more sense. As flesh-and-blood ponies, we needed an answerto this mystery... something that we could safely place in a textbook and bury once and for all.”

She looked down at her notes. “I suppose it never occurred to them that their solution was inadequate.”

In a brilliant flash, Twilight Sparkle completed the diagram on her page. The hoop of magic that stood next to her podium gained a new sphere; a small, pulsing orb of white light that hung suspended in the center of the circle.

The missing piece.

The burning question.

The final answer.

“What is a soul?” she asked again. “Is it the well that we all draw magic from? Is it what defines us as ponies? Or is the soul something greater… the very source of life in us all?”

She looked out into the audience, her eyes scanning across their faces. “Perhaps more important than any of those things, the soul is a theory that we have based our facts on. The root that we could never dig up—the missing piece that has always eluded us.”

Gone were the nerves. Gone was the trepidation. As Twilight stepped away from the podium and laid her eyes upon the small box hidden there, all she could think of was the look of pride that Princess Celestia would surely give her.

A grin formed on Twilight’s lips, “—but missing no longer.”

The world’s greatest mysteries, my student, are simply just questions waiting to be solved.

The buzzing in her ears blocked out the silence. In a daze, Twilight levitated the box out from under the podium and raised it high above her head.

However, the real question you should ask yourself, Twilight Sparkle, is will you be the one to answer them?

The firmness in her voice could shake mountains. “Eight days ago in the basement of my library, I broke free from the circle and successfully crystallized a piece of myself…”

She looked toward the front row.

“I’ve successfully crystallized a piece of my soul.”

****

A golden magic enveloped the twin doors before they floated shut on silent hinges. As Twilight’s eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight within, she noticed that not much had changed from the last time she’d been here.

Princess Celestia’s office—her real office—lacked the formality and grandeur that was expected of her station. The only outstanding feature was the wide, oaken desk sitting in the middle of the room. On its surface, strange baubles held down giant stacks of paper. A variety of scrolls were stashed in a pile on the table’s edge, and behind all the mess sat the princess herself, regarding her student with a somber expression on her face.

Through the balcony doors, Twilight caught glimpse of a crescent moon peeking out from behind midnight clouds. She held back a shudder. There were very few reasons why Princess Celestia would ask to speak with her at such a late hour.

With a sigh, Twilight turned back toward the princess.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

An agonizingly long moment passed before Celestia’s horn took light, her magic grip fluffing the cushion that sat in front of her desk.

“Have a seat,” Celestia said. “After that lecture of yours, there is a certain matter that needs to be discussed.”

She spoke in a measured tone, a veil stretching itself across her words like the darkness that covered torrid waters on a misty night.

A feign.

A disguise.

A mask.

Twilight frowned. That was all the answer she needed.

“If this is about my research—”

“This is precisely about your research,” said Celestia. She took a deep breath. “Please, have a seat. I’d rather we have this conversation face to face rather than us speaking to each other from across the room.”

Twilight nodded and with a few steps closed the distance between them. All the while, Celestia watched her, the familiar warmth in her eyes replaced by a calculating look. Slowly, Twilight lowered herself onto the cushion, a pit forming in her throat.

“I figured you would have called me here,” Twilight began, quiet and controlled. “I saw you back in the assembly when I first revealed the crystal. For a second I thought you were going to leave or make me stop, but… I guess common sense took over and I realized you could never do that.”

Celestia’s expression remained unmoving.

“Would you rather I had stopped your lecture in front of your peers—your friends—after you saw my reaction?”

An image flashed through Twilight’s mind: a wide-eyed Princess Celestia sitting in the front row of the auditorium, the crystal suspended in the air between them.

Twilight locked it away.

“Of course not,” she said, focusing on her hooves. “If you had, the embarrassment alone…”

“Would have killed you,” finished Celestia.

Twilight looked up.

“Y-yeah… something like that.”

The clock ticked and tocked.

Twilight chewed at the inside of her lip, a habit that proved impossible to get rid of.

“Nervous?” the princess asked her. “A natural response, considering what you have done. Although I suppose it’s a good sign that you are able to feel anything at all after everything you’ve put your body through.”

Celestia gave a small chuckle, but it sounded forced and hollow—a laugh for the sake of sound, an actor going through the motions.

Twilight grit her teeth, her own guise cracking.

“You never did answer me,” she said. “I do something you don’t like, and you start treating me like a foreign diplomat. I feel like I know you well, Princess, and honestly, watching you put on airs hurts more than if you had just told me what you actually felt from the very start.”

She felt a bead of sweat forming on her temple.

“So say it. If you’re angry because of my research, just say so.”

For a brief moment, Celestia’s guard faltered. Her shoulders sank by the fraction of an inch. Her lips curled downward and her eyes fell shut, a giant black curtain blocking out the world.

But only for a moment.

“Twilight,” she whispered, “anger does not even begin to describe it.”

A quiet fury.

The sun’s fury.

“Your research. Crystallizing a piece of yourself. What in the world was running through your mind when you thought that was an idea worth exploring?” Celestia shook her head. “You’re a mare grown, Twilight Sparkle, and I realize this, but that does not mean you are entitled to destroying yourself. If even one thing went wrong...”

“But it didn’t! The methods I used ensured that it would never reach that point! I—” Twilight paused, her ears wilting. She continued again in a more muted tone. “You’ve always told me... risk versus reward. I haven’t forgotten.”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed.

“Was risking your life worth it, then?”

A strange silence fell over the two. Twilight stared down at her hooves, her throat tightening. She could feel Celestia watching her, feel her intense gaze boring into the top of her skull.

Only when her lungs began to burn did Twilight remember to breathe.

A sigh from Celestia drew the unicorn’s attention. Horn glowing, Celestia pulled open a drawer and levitated out a scroll bearing a familiar crest. She gently lowered the parchment onto the table, not bothering to unroll it.

Twilight’s eyes flicked between the note and her teacher, coming to a sudden understanding.

“Spike sent me this some weeks ago,” Celestia said. “You had him help with your research, correct?”

Twilight gave a slow nod. “What did he tell you?”

“Almost nothing. I suspect that you asked him not to reveal anything to anyone, and thus he omitted the particulars about your newest endeavor.” From across the desk, Celestia studied her with a sober expression. “But what he did say, Twilight Sparkle, was that you were pushing yourself far too hard. I could tell just by his handwriting alone… he was scared. Perhaps enough for the both of you.”

The unicorn sat silently, her eyes focused on the letter. She already knew the answer, but she had to ask anyway.

“If it’s not too much trouble, um… could I maybe read it? What he wrote, that is.”

Celestia shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I believe this matter calls for some respect of privacy.”

“But—”

“I know you feel betrayed, Twilight Sparkle, but that is the exact opposite of what he intended. Spike was worried, so he sent me a note.” Celestia tapped the letter with a gold-shod hoof. “And can you really blame him? If anything happened to you, who would be affected the most? Who would be hurt the most?”

Twilight shelved away the sudden surge of emotion.

“What else did he say?” Twilight asked her.

“That you were avoiding your friends. That if they found out what you were attempting to do, they would without a doubt try and put a stop to it.” Celestia leaned forward slightly, but to Twilight it was as if Canterlot itself was towering over her. “You knew that this research was going to hurt those closest to you and yet you continued with it. I want to know why.”

Twilight’s mouth formed a thin line. After a few seconds, she gave a dismal shake of her head. That was all she could do.

“Why?” Celestia repeated. “Constantly destroying your magic until there was nothing left except for the very core of your being... this goes beyond a simple academic curiosity. What compelled you to do this?”

A pained look crossed Twilight’s face. She took a deep breath, taking a moment to arrange her thoughts.

“The variables,” Twilight murmured. “I-I wish I could explain it better, but after we returned from the Crystal Empire, I ran through my head all the things that could have gone differently… both the good and the bad.”

Celestia’s brow furrowed. “And what conclusion did you come to?”

“That I wasn’t strong enough...” Twilight turned her gaze toward the balcony doors. “What if Cadence’s magic gave out earlier than it did? What if Spike wasn’t there with me atop the palace? We would have failed, and—”

She breathed out a quivering sigh. “I don’t think King Sombra was the forgiving type of pony. I can’t let something like that happen. Not again. Not ever.”

Celestia blinked once then twice, a slow nod signifying that she understood.

“So you sought to eliminate the variables,” Celestia affirmed. “You began your search for the soul.”

“I had to become stronger. I had to become better. If I could prove that the soul existed and somehow harness it… then maybe I could prevent anypony else from getting hurt in the future.”

She turned toward Celestia. “You took me on as your student and taught me everything I know about magic. The least I could do is use these gifts to help defend your nation.”

****

Adria had little to say. Like a ghost stuck in time, she checked and re-checked her gear with listless eyes. She fastened her belt, secured her armor, and for the third time her hand was drawn to pommel of her sword. With a quick flourish Adria drew the rapier from its scabbard, the thin piece of steel held in a firm grasp.

Solaire watched as she pointed the weapon’s tip out into the inky black.

“Going into battle with a head full of troubles is going to get you killed,” said Solaire. He adjusted the large shield lying across his lap, the sun’s face painted on its surface staring back at him. “Tell me, what’s on your mind?”

She let the sword back down with a sigh, her eyes flicking in his direction.

“I still can’t believe you chose this,” Adria said. “We’re fighting to end this curse, and then I find out that you willingly cursed yourself? I can’t fathom it.”

Solaire chuckled. “Would you rather have a mewling kitten of a partner who shies away at the smallest of noises? I’m a man, Adria. Born for combat. Is it such a surprise to find someone like me who lives and bleeds for war on the fields of mankind’s final battle?”

He ran a hand across the surface of his shield, a smile growing on his face. “A knight’s duty, after all, is to serve his lord until death takes him. Perhaps that is why I came here, Adria, to die in the service of the Lord of Sunlight himself. I can think of no higher honor.”

“And yet you cursed yourself,” Adria said, looking away. “You will never know true death. Not anymore.”

“Maybe not... but I have died. Many times in fact.” Solaire fit his arm through the shield, his fingers flexing around the metal grips. “And before you say anything, I know that no one is keeping count—it’s a fool’s hope to even think so. There will be no songs or poems about us simply because no one knows.”

Adria scoffed. “What’s the point of your quest then? You come here seeking glory in the name of your lord but no one is around to see it.”

Solaire’s grin widened.

“If the gods know of my deeds, then that is enough.”

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.

“Solaire... all you have to do is look around to know that the gods have abandoned us. The dead walk the earth. Civilization has crumbled. If they ever loved humanity, I’m having a hard time believing it.” Adria breathed in deep and let it all out in one shaky exhale. “You fight for honor, Sir Knight... but there’s none to be found here. The same fate awaits us all.”

Slowly, Solaire stood up, his hand drawn to the mark burned into the center of his chest. Through cloth and chainmail, rough fingers traced the hideous brand found underneath, a black circle of a scar that would never fully heal.

Adria watched him, a grimace spreading across her face.

“A testament to our undeath,” she murmured. “You die and die and die, and each time the Darksign brings you back. Slowly, you become numb to the pain. You start to forget, and one day… the thing the Darksign brings back isn’t you.”

She shut her eyes, her voice fragile in the dark.

“The fate of the undead. If we fail here—”

“I won’t let it happen, Adria. Not to me. Not to you.” Solaire took a step forward. “I promise you this, I will not let you hollow.”

****

With a burst of magic, Celestia pulled open the tower’s balcony doors, welcoming in the whispers of frigid air.

Twilight watched as Celestia made her way outside on silent hooves, the bright pinks and greens of her ethereal mane a stark contrast against the bedtime skies. All of Canterlot—all of Equestria—stretched out beneath her, the rolling hills and mountains painted a dark blue by the stars blazing up above.

“I made a similar promise to myself long ago,” Celestia began, her voice quiet. “An ancient promise that, I am loathe to admit, has been broken.”

She looked up, and Twilight could almost imagine the heavens reflected in her rose-colored eyes.

“I can remember the moment so vividly, the exact moment when I first made that promise. I wish I could say it was on a night not too different from this one, but that would be bending the truth, wouldn’t it?”

Twilight’s throat tightened. She had read countless times the stories of her princess, but hearing one from Celestia herself often included details that could never be found in the history books.

“I’m sure you’ve realized this already, Twilight Sparkle, but Equestria was not always such a peaceful place. I believe that you are old enough now that I can safely tell you this.” For only a second, Celestia glanced back into the tower. “Would you like to hear about the night I made my promise?”

All Twilight could do was nod, her gaze roaming over the shaded silhouette standing in the balcony doorway.

Celestia turned away and took a deep breath.

“It was raining,” she began. “Sharp, cold, stinging drops of water that, if you were to look up at them, it would seem as if the stars itself were crashing down upon you. Lightning arced across the sky, and the moon only illuminated the mud that stained my coat. I can remember water pooling around me, quickly filling the crater I lay in. I knew then that if I did not move, I would surely drown.”

Twilight tried to picture it in her mind, the still form of her princess laying at the bottom of an earthen hole. She quickly shook her head.

“What did this to you?” whispered Twilight.

For the second time, Celestia craned her neck to the side, a single eye regarding Twilight with a look of deep thought.

“There are many creatures, Twilight Sparkle, who could have injured me in such a way. A dragon could have flung me into the ground with its iron jaws or a battalion of griffon warriors could have speared me in mid-flight. But you should know, my student, at the time it didn’t matter what physical damages my body suffered—” Celestia paused, “—wounds can heal.”

The alicorn began making her way to the edge of the balcony, her hooves clinking against the stone tiles. With a wing she beckoned Twilight to join her.

Silently, Twilight rose from her seat and started for the doors. When she passed the threshold, a gentle breath of wind whispered by, ruffling her mane and causing her to squint against the breeze. Cherished memories resurfaced as she took in the familiar sights, but those were soon dispelled when her eyes fell on the figure standing at the balcony’s edge.

She came to a stop at Celestia’s side, and for a brief moment, she scanned the darkened horizon. Twilight didn’t need to peer over the railing to know that far below was Celestia’s private garden, tucked away in the shadow of the tower. She breathed in deep the cool air, and as the two stood there atop the highest point in Canterlot, Twilight realized her heart was racing.

With a worried look, she turned toward her teacher.

“Princess Celestia?”

Celestia only stared straight ahead, her expression unmoving.

“A cut is instantaneous, Twilight Sparkle. The coat is severed, the skin breaks… and eventually, the blood flows. Only when you look down do you realize that you have been cut. As you’re struggling to find a bandage, the pain sets in. The tears come, and no matter your age, no matter the severity... everypony wishes that someone could come and kiss away the hurt.”

Celestia looked down at her, an unidentifiable expression on her face.

“What happens next do you think?”

Twilight blinked at the sudden question. “W-well, the uh, scab forms… and eventually a scar appears at the site of the break.”

“Scar tissue,” Celestia murmured. “Strange, isn’t it… how something that was once a great source of pain is trivialized into a pale line that can barely be seen through your coat.”

Twilight turned away, her eyebrows creasing. “Before… you said wounds can heal. That can’t be all you meant.”

A moment passed before Celestia responded.

“Wounds can heal, Twilight Sparkle. On your body, you can point out exactly where an injury occurred. You can look in the mirror and trace a hoof along those pale lines, remembering how you got them, or sometimes not remembering the incident at all.”

Celestia took a deep breath.

“Wounds can heal… emotional traumas do not. A scar of the mind; a damaging of the psyche. The reason, Twilight Sparkle, I was not able to climb out of that hole one thousand years ago was not because my body was broken…” Celestia paused, her face becoming a rigid mask, “...but rather because I realized then that I had to destroy the pony I cared for most in the world.”

In that moment, Celestia let the sounds of a sleeping Canterlot fill the silence between them.

She started again, quieter than before. “I could not move—how could I? My own sister took me into her magic field and crushed me into the earth. The pain I felt then could not compare to the despair, the hopelessness, the anguish I felt inside.”

Celestia left no room for a response.

“You might be thinking, Twilight, that my rage was justified. Luna, the pony I held closest to my heart, had just attempted sororicide to take the throne we shared for herself. Her mad delusions would have, without a doubt, doomed all life on Equus. I was right to be angry with her.”

Twilight felt a frown forming on her face. She stared straight ahead, her eyes focusing on a far-off bundle of lights on the horizon.

“I… I’m not thinking that, princess. I’m not thinking that at all.”

She could hear Celestia’s wings ruffle, feel her powerful gaze on the side of her head. Twilight shifted on her hooves, an uncomfortable sensation welling up in her throat.

She swallowed it away.

“I think you were angry at yourself,” Twilight said, “for letting it happen, for... letting her become what she did.”

When Celestia remained silent, the seconds ticking by, Twilight spared an upwards glance only to find her teacher looking down at her with that same unidentifiable expression.

Twilight’s eyes widened.

“I-I’m not saying that’s what you were feeling!” she stammered, turning away. “But… but if that were me in your situation, I think I’d be more disappointed in myself than anything, a-and that’s why I said… that stuff...”

Unexpectedly, Celestia’s lips curled into a smile. A smile that, all too soon, vanished without a trace.

Celestia breathed in deep, her face returning to its previous rigidity.

“As the stories say, my sister was not… happy with the world. She sought change, but in order to make her dreams a reality, she first had to change something else. Something within.”

Twilight felt a quick pang in her chest.

Celestia continued unabated.

“I never did tell you what Luna’s school specialized in, but I suppose now... you can hazard more than just a guess, correct?”

Twilight slowly shook her head. “You can’t mean...”

“Soul magic,” Celestia answered, a hardened look in her eyes. “My sister’s school specialized in soul magic.”

Celestia sighed.

“Fate moves in mysterious ways, Twilight Sparkle. Perhaps this is my karmic justice—I order the destruction of my sister’s favored pupil only for my own student to succumb to that same ancient allure one thousand years later.”

“F-favored pupil? I don’t know—”

“You uttered his name ten minutes ago. It has not yet been two months since you and your friends helped destroy him.” Celestia turned away. “Surely you know who I speak of.”

Twilight blanched. Her limbs felt heavy. Her tongue was a brick in her mouth. She worked her jaw noiselessly, her brain unable to come up with the proper words to convey her thoughts.

Somewhere, an owl hooted in the distance.

A cold gust of air bit into her coat.

Eventually, Celestia started again in a somber tone.

“I believe that Sombra’s banishment was what drove my sister to twist her soul… what drove her to become Nightmare Moon. Just as Luna changed herself to change the world, I had to change myself to save it. I had to become stronger. I had to becomebetter.”

Celestia’s eyes fell shut.

“I had to become something I wasn’t.”

A faded portrait of a pink-maned princess flashed through Twilight’s mind. A princess full of laughter and love. A princess with a coat like snow, a smile full of sunshine.

Once a part of a pair, now alone.

Change myself.

Twilight looked up, the realization slowly dawning on her.

“Your promise…”

Celestia gave a slow nod.

“As I lay in that crater, Nightmare Moon descending upon me faster than the falling rain, I made a promise to myself. A promise that, if I were to live to see the next day, I would eliminate all traces of soul magic. I would not allow it to change anyone else. I would not allow it to ruin any more lives.” Celestia paused. “I would... not allow it to be researched further.”

“Then you should have stopped me,” Twilight whispered. “If I had known—”

“If you had known, then we would not be having conversation.” Celestia peered down at her, an almost pleading look in her eyes. “Do you regret your research now that it has led you here? Led you here atop this tower?”

Twilight shook her head. “O-of course not, princess!”

Celestia looked away.

Her voice was quiet and low—distant, as if she were speaking across centuries. “I can’t seem to put the past behind me, Twilight Sparkle. My greatest regret is that I was not able to prevent my sister’s downfall. But make no mistake, what I did afterward pains me just as much. I… I destroyed her research, destroyed her school… and abandoned the castle that was our home."

Celestia shut her eyes. “I could not face what I had done. Though Luna still lived in that monster I sent to the moon, I essentially buried her. I buried my sister and fled...”

Twilight looked on, her ears flattening. In all her twenty years of life, there wasn’t a memory she could draw on of seeing her princess in such a troubled state. The familiar ache in her chest returned, a dull throb as if something inside was being constricted.

“Princess, I...” Twilight shook her head. “I can’t even imagine the pain you felt, what you were forced to do—but it’s been so long, a-and we saved her. Princess Luna, she—”

“Was at your lecture,” Celestia cut across a flat tone. “She saw it all. Your soul crystal, your formulas. Heard the methods you used.”

Twilight’s breath hitched in her throat.

High above, the crescent moon floated through the sky, a sickle slicing the heavens.

Celestia sighed.

“Our talk was brief, but she told me one thing, Twilight Sparkle. If you continue down this path you will surely destroy yourself.”

Twilight looked down at her hooves, the last two months of hardship and sleepless nights flashing through her mind.

“I-I see,” she murmured. “You’re telling me stop my research.”

A pause.

“I’m not telling you to do anything, Twilight Sparkle... all I can do is simply tell you the truth.”

Sunlight Shield

"Shield of Solaire of Astora, Knight of Sunlight. Decorated with a holy symbol, but Solaire illustrated it himself, and it has no divine powers of its own. As it turns out, Solaire's incredible prowess is a product of his own training, and nothing else."

Author's Note

A heartfelt thanks to my friend and editor, Kitsunerisu

Chapter Two - A Matter of Pride

The palace grounds was a different place at night. The colorful gardens and perfectly-kept lawns had adopted an eerie look in the light of the moon. Gone were the servants and gardeners, leaving behind only the chirping of crickets and rustling of leaves.

Though she had every right to be out there, Applejack stepped lightly along the stone pathway, her head bent low and eyes darting every which way.

A soft voice hummed from behind.

Rarity, who had been silent ever since they left the castle, trotted up to Applejack’s side. A look of concern was apparent on her face and her mane bore the signs of someone who was recently pulled away from her work.

“Applejack,” Rarity whispered, “are you certain that Twilight came this way?”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” Applejack whispered back. “I heard a guard come fetch her from her room and sure enough, I see Twilight walkin’ this same path from my window not five minutes later.”

In the distance, a white spire loomed overhead.

The tallest point in Canterlot.

Rarity followed her friend’s gaze.

“Do you think—”

“Oh yeah, sugar.” Applejack exhaled deep and shook her head. “I reckon Princess Celestia’s givin’ her a right good talkin’ to just about now.”

Rarity frowned.

“Still can’t believe it,” Applejack continued. “Makin’ us worry about her the past two months and just when we think she’s gettin’ better, she tells not only us, but the rest o’ the world what she’s been up to.”

"Soul magic," Rarity murmured. "I knew something was wrong, but... maybe I should have seen this coming."

"You quit that right now, Rarity. Not a single one of us coulda guessed what she was doin' in that library of hers, so don't you go blamin' yourself about this."

They continued walking without a word, the sound of their hoof-falls forming an odd staccato in the night. Out of the corner of her eyes, Applejack saw Rarity breathe out a quiet sigh.

Applejack bit her lip.

"The gala dresses?" she asked.

When Rarity only hummed in response, she felt a twinge of guilt pulse in her chest.

"I'm mighty sorry for askin' you to come along,” Applejack said. “It’s just that I saw the light under your door and everyone was else was asleep, so I—”

Rarity gave a weak laugh.

“So you asked me to go with you,” she said, smiling. “No need to apologize, darling. Making a whole dress is one thing, but putting the final touches on one is another. Besides, I still have all of tomorrow to finish my work.”

The white spire continued to draw closer.

“Plenty of time,” added Rarity.

“Plenty...”

“And I know for a fact that this is more important.” Rarity’s looked up, her smile falling away as her gaze traced the contours of the tower. “I think I should be grateful, really. I wanted to speak with Twilight right after her lecture, but I… I lacked the courage.”

She turned to the side.

“So thank you, Applejack.”

The earth pony quirked an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“For being just as scared as I.”

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 2 - A Matter of Pride

The pit in the floor stretched wide and far, a gaping maw that threatened to swallow anyone who drew too close. Moisture flowed from the cracks up above and a steady drip drip drip could be heard, beads of water falling through the pit and into a pool far below.

The bottom could just barely be seen—a sickly blue glow lingered in the hollow as if the light down there carried a physical weight and had no desire to ascend.

Solaire watched as Adria peered over the side, her eyes searching through the darkness.

“The water’s shallow,” she said. “It will do nothing to stop a fall, let alone one from this height.”

“No matter,” replied Solaire as he dropped to a knee by the edge of the pit. “We’ve been through worse.”

“Except we don’t know what’s down there,” Adria said. “I’d say we look for a different way forward, but there’s nothing. This is the end. This is as deep as we go.”

Solaire plucked a pebble off the floor before flicking it into the hole.

“So we do know what’s down there.” He turned to the side and looked up at the figure standing a few feet away. “Those lights, that feeling in the air—who else could lurk in such a place if not the Gravelord?”

Adria wrinkled her brow.

“Are you proposing that we just drop into Nito’s domain? He’s no doubt prepared traps, infused the place with magic. For all we know, Solaire, he might not even be alone. We may as well be insects flying into a widow’s web.”

Solaire smiled.

“I can go first if you wish.”

“That’s not the point,” Adria said. “We’re a team aren’t we? We’re supposed to protect each other. If you jump down that hole without a plan, you’ll be making both our jobs very difficult.”

A strand of black hair fell over her face. She spoke again, quieter than before.

“But this is the only way, isn’t it? I can see no other option. We either turn back, or we go down.”

“An easy choice,” Solaire said. “Are we in agreement then?”

Adria sighed as she brushed the stray lock behind an ear. She looked down at him with tired eyes and a weary smile.

“It’s always troubled me, Solaire, not being able to see your face.”

“Hm?”

“I can’t tell if you’re frightened or not,” Adria said. “If any of this is even affecting you.”

“Would you like to see?” Solaire brought a hand to his helmet. “Or is this a trick to remind yourself of how handsome I am?”

Adria looked away.

“Just jump, Sir Knight.”

Chuckling, Solaire rose to his feet.

“As you wish, My Lady.”

Sword and shield in hand, the knight took one last look into the pit before he leapt, a powerful push from his legs throwing him forward and into the darkness below. The shallow pool rose up to meet him and with a resounding splash, Solaire slammed into the rocky bottom, all four limbs bracing against the fall.

His entrance echoed around the chamber.

Water dripped off his armor in uneven trickles.

Slowly, Solaire stood up, the slits in his helmet nothing but black in the shadows of the cavern.

A voice, distant and fleeting, called out from above.

“It’s safe!” Solaire called back as he squinted against the dark. When his eyes were fully adjusted, he took a moment to observe his surroundings.

From the ankle-high water emerged a series of giant stalagmites, bordering the cave like an armory of earthen spears. In the center of the cavern stood a thick pillar of rock, extending into the ceiling where it joined even more of its pointed brethren. As Solaire looked around, his boots sinking into the thin layer of grey sand, he realized that a quick escape from this place would be impossible.

Isolated.

Enclosed.

Nowhere to hide.

Solaire nodded. Perfect conditions to kill a god.

A splash from behind signified his partner’s arrival. Adria cursed under her breath, sloshing about as she pulled herself from the silt.

“I thought you hated heights,” Adria gasped out.

“Only sometimes,” Solaire said as he turned around.

His eyes were drawn to one of her knees—the cloth and skin had been sheared off by the impact of her fall. Wincing, Adria palmed one of the cuts, blood flowing from between her fingers.

Solaire took a step forward.

“Adria?”

She shook her head and with a trembling hand, reached into a leather pouch hanging from her belt. Pulled out was a dull green flask filled with an orange liquid, the contents glowing as it swirled around within its container.

Adria brought the flask to her lips, a moment passing before she tilted it back. Sip after measured sip, her breathing soon came easier and the shaking in her hand stopped.

Solaire looked down to see the cuts shrinking, folding and knitting together as if an invisible seamstress worked her wounds. She lowered the flask, the relief clear on her face.

“I think it was broken,” Adria said.

“And now?”

Adria rose to her feet, testing her weight with a few bends of her legs.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, placing the half-empty flask back into its pouch.

As she gazed around the cavern wide-eyed and tight-mouthed, Solaire turned his attention to what lay behind the pillar. The stone formation was thick enough to obscure a large portion of the chamber. If Nito truly was down there, that was the only place he could be.

With a wave of his hand, Solaire caught Adria’s eye.

“Follow me,” he said, “and stay close. Whatever happens, you stay where I can see you, understand?”

Adria nodded and fell into place beside him. After adjusting his shield and readying his sword, Solaire started toward the center of the room, eyes focused on the distant shadows. Though they reached the pillar without incident, Solaire couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling churning in his gut.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

The only sounds to be heard was the dripping of water and their own labored breaths.

“I don’t like this,” Adria whispered, clutching her staff against her chest. “We should have seen something by now. Heard something. If this continues, I fear my heart might burst.”

“Tell your heart to wait a moment longer,” Solaire said. He turned to face her. “Adria, can you produce that light from before?”

She looked up at him.

“Are you certain? Whatever’s down here is sure to see us.”

Solaire nodded.

“If Nito already knows we’ve come for him then it matters not. I’d rather us be revealed than blind.”

She grimaced, her hands tightening around her staff.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

Solaire watched as Adria shut her eyes, her mouth uttering silent incantations. A second passed before a ball of yellow light emerged from the tip of the staff. Hovering the light over one of her fingertips, Adria guided the miniature sun high into the air, illuminating row upon row of stone-grey stalagmite.

As he gazed around the cavern, Solaire couldn’t help but notice that the shadows cast upon the walls looked like jagged teeth, the jaws of a ferocious monster closing shut on them.

He banished the thought.

“Solaire...” She was staring at a far-off point above his shoulder.

“Solaire,” Adria repeated, “we need to move.”

The air was thick.

His breath hitched in his throat.

And as Solaire turned around, he already knew what he would see.

****

Rays of moonlight poked through silver clouds, bathing the balcony in a soft glow. Despite the cold winds, Twilight felt no inclination to go back inside. Forehooves perched against the railing, she observed the night sky above with attentive eyes.

Next to her, Celestia stirred.

“It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it? Ever since my sister’s return, I’ve found myself coming out here more and more.”

“I still remember,” Twilight said. “You used to stargaze with me when I was younger. It’s a little silly, but... this spot holds some of my fondest memories.”

Celestia smiled.

“What of this night, Twilight Sparkle? Will you remember this ten, twenty, fifty years from now—the night that your old, greying teacher shared with you her deepest woes?”

Though she could hear a hint of humor in Celestia’s voice, the actual question gave Twilight pause. She looked away.

“Princess, I… I hope I do. A year from now, I hope I can look back on this day and just laugh with everypony about how I secluded myself in the library. A-about how foolish I was acting. And maybe on that day too, I… I could work up the courage to properly thank you.”

Twilight felt a grin forming on her face.

“And you’re not that old,” she said.

Celestia gave a small chuckle.

“I think the historians would disagree with you,” Celestia said, extending a wing and lightly tapping her student on the side.

Twilight shied away, a second passing before her smile faded into a contemplative look.

“I really do need to thank you though,” Twilight said. “You didn’t have to tell me any of those things but you did, and… I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it—you trusting me like that.”

Celestia took a moment to respond.

“Whatever you may think of me as, Twilight, just know that I will always think of you as friend. And is that not what friends do? Trust each other?” Celestia breathed out a quiet sigh. “Maybe I owe you thanks as well. I’d been holding onto those secrets for far too long—to have finally let them go, I don’t think I can put into words how it feels.”

Twilight looked down at her hooves, an odd sensation welling up in her throat.

“Earlier… was Princess Luna upset? Was she angry that I had used soul magic?”

The question lingered between them.

“Upset, yes... but not at you." Celestia paused, an air of anxiety surrounding her. "Let me say this, Twilight, it has been a while since my sister raised her voice at me with such a passion. I suspect that ever since she returned, Luna has been making a great effort at keeping her emotions under control, but… to see that fire in her eyes again—it reminded me of how my sister once was.”

She hummed a thoughtful sound.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be so taken aback that your lecture stirred something within my sister. Where I was Kindness, Generosity and Laughter… Luna was Honesty, Loyalty and—”

“Magic.”

Celestia nodded.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Y-yes,” Twilight murmured, “it does. And what about Honesty? Her powers. I mean, she goes into the dreams of ponies, and… and I don’t even know. She’s so mysterious, and—”

“And what are dreams, Twilight? Are they not simply the mind’s truths laid bare? Just as Luna delves into dreams seeking that truth, she once plummeted into the depths of magic itself to peer at her very soul...”

Celestia went silent, her eyes downcast.

“She said I should have anticipated this, that you would eventually seek out the truths just as she once had. ‘Both a blessing and a curse’ she called it, the unquenchable thirst for knowledge.”

Twilight shook her head.

“I-I don’t understand. Why are you telling me these things? Would Princess Luna be upset that you’re sharing this so freely?”

“I’d imagine not, Twilight.”

“Then why didn’t she speak to me herself?”

Celestia took a deep breath.

“It’s a matter of pride with her. Though Luna is slowly adapting to the changing times, her mindset is still very much rooted in the past. The fact of the matter of is, Twilight, my sister does not deem herself worthy of speaking to you—especially on a taboo that she herself has practiced.”

“But still,” Twilight whispered, “if she had just told me what soul magic had done to her…”

“And what if she had?” Celestia said. “Would something coming from my sister have changed your mind? You do not know Luna… and Luna does not know you.”

Twilight felt something sink in her chest.

Celestia looked away.

“She left it in my hooves, and now I am leaving it in yours. Regarding your research, Twilight, whatever you do from here on out is your own business. We have said what we needed to say. You’re a grown mare, and you are entirely capable of making your own decisions.”

Far on the horizon, black clouds were forming. A rogue storm judging by its appearance, but soon the proper authorities would take notice and dispatch a team of pegasi to break down the phenomena.

There was no way it could reach Canterlot.

The unicorn sighed.

“I’ve already decided,” she whispered.

Twilight found herself thinking of Spike, of how he constantly pleaded with her to leave the library. She found herself thinking of her friends, of how they begged her to at least tell them what she was doing. And two months after it all began, she found herself at the top of a white tower in Canterlot, her teacher staring down at her with a deep focus in her eyes.

Twilight swallowed away the lump in her throat.

“I’m stopping my research on the soul,” she said, her voice quiet. “I knew that pursuing this was going to be a challenge, but… I didn’t realize how deep the danger ran. I-I’m sorry. To both you and Princess Luna.”

A small smile appeared on Celestia’s lips. She responded without missing a beat.

“I am happy to hear you say that, Twilight, but there are others who are in much greater need of an apology than me or my sister. When you wake up tomorrow, please do not forget that.” Celestia started for the doors but soon turned around. “And for what its worth… I’m glad that we were able to have this talk.”

Twilight’s hoof shot out.

“Wait,” she said. “Before I go, there’s something else I wanted to ask. You’ve already helped me with so much, and, well... I thought you’d like to see this through to the very end.”

“Twilight?”

“The crystal I showed at the lecture—my soul crystal… will you help me get rid of it?”

Far in the distance, the black storm continued to draw closer.

****

Solaire heard the air rip apart first. Like a pendulum gone wrong, the massive sword smashed into his shield with a deafening clang. He felt the floor wrench away and before he could comprehend anything else, Solaire crashed into the stone pillar, his breath knocked out of him in one ragged gasp.

A woman cried out.

Dust scattered all around him.

Solaire fell to a knee, unceremonious as he braced himself against the wet sand. In those precious few seconds, he managed a slow quavering glance upward—upward towards the creature that had attacked him.

He saw its sword first, hovering over him like an executioner’s blade. The sword was curved, a giant shard of steel riddled with pits, its color dulled into a dirty brown. The hilt appeared to be corroded, but as Solaire’s eyes came into focus he knew that his hunch was wrong.

Not steel, no, but human bone twisted and warped into a perverse guillotine—its only purpose to cut short the lives of men.

Solaire turned his focus to the sword’s owner.

Skeletal fingers far too large wrapped around the blade’s handle. A forearm as tall as he stood creaked and groaned with every movement. Solaire’s gaze travelled up the monstrous limb and toward the skull perched atop a torso of skeletons. Somehow, he knew that the god was staring down at him, regarding the intruder with its black pits for eyes.

Gravelord Nito.

“-laire!”

He dies today.

“Solaire!” Small hands gripped at his tunic as Adria struggled to pull him to his feet. “Get up!”

Panic in her voice.

Danger looming.

It was only by instinct that Solaire managed to block the second blow. He raised his shield high above his head, bracing with both arms as the colossal sword struck again. A shockwave coursed through his body as weapon connected with steel.

A quick glance told him that Adria had fled a safe distance away, brow furrowing as she stared up at the ancient god.

Gravelord Nito pressed him deeper into the earth.

Now.

With a burst of strength, Solaire pushed Nito’s sword off to the side. He surged out of the sand, already gripping his own blade before springing forward. In a few bounds, Solaire closed the distance, his sword arm coiling back for a heavy strike.

Solaire let loose a primal roar as he hacked at Nito’s exposed legs. Hit after frenzied hit, small shards of bone were chipped away in a shower of dry dust.

Not nearly enough.

“Get back!” Adria again. Yelling.

Solaire looked up, barely in time to see Nito aiming his sword straight at the ground.

A scream shrill and rattling shook the chamber. A magic foul and hateful filled the air. Nito reared back, his hands almost touching the ceiling before he brought his sword down, the blade piercing through the earth where Solaire once stood seconds before.

The knight’s eyes widened.

Not intended for me.

He whipped his head back toward Adria only to see a look of realization dawning on her face.

In an instant she was gone, her form shrouded by a massive explosion of stone and dirt. Small bits of rock rained down, splashing into the water like hailstones into a lake. As the air cleared, he saw what caused the damage—a red translucent spike had burst out of the ground, already fading as if it never existed.

Solaire gritted his teeth. If Adria were still alive, she’d make her presence known.

Slowly as if mocking him, Nito retracted his blade from the earth, bone grinding against bone as he raised himself again to his full height. Solaire stood just out of Nito’s reach, a grimace forming under his helmet.

The knight looked down at his sword then at the small notches he cut into Nito’s legs.

Ineffective.

And then he heard it, that familiar whir of magic.

The air hummed with energy. His hairs stood on end. And like a spear thrown, a javelin of blue light arced overhead before slamming into Nito’s chest with a ripping crack.

Solaire’s ears rang.

Splintered bone showered all around him.

What remained of the soul spear was gone—it had disintegrated from the impact into a blue mist. But the damage was done. Nito staggered back, hands clawing at the smoking crater in his chest.

Solaire smiled.

Several meters back and behind a thinning haze of dust stood Adria, the end of her staff letting out a bright blue glow. She widened her stance, a snarl forming on her face.

“Nito!” she spat out. “Do not think that such an attack would kill me! I’ve battled with chaos demons. I’ve seen with my own eyes the city of the gods! Your greatest efforts pale in comparison to what I have already endured!”

Adria took a step forward and spoke again, a deep malice in her voice.

“You know why we’ve come, don’t you? You hid yourself away deep in the bowels of the earth because you knew. You knew you wronged us!” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her staff. “You and your ilk turned and fled when you realized our curse could not be contained! You left humanity to rot in this… this agony!”

A hum of magic, and soon another blue bolt lanced through the air before exploding into Nito’s chest.

The chamber shook as Nito began crashing to the ground, body rattling as the god struggled to keep upright. Chunks of bone dropped from his smoking wound in shattered clumps. From deep inside, a human skull dislodged and fell into the shallow water, half-submerged as grey sand began creeping into its crevices.

Solaire stepped back, his smile fading.

He didn’t need to look to know that Adria was continuing her slow approach—the sound of her boots pushing through the shallows was enough indication. Seconds later, a blue light entered his peripherals.

Adria looked up at the subdued god.

“You’re weaker than I expected, Gravelord. What is it like to be killed by those who cannot die? To have your soul taken from you by those who lack their own... it’s a cruel irony, is it not?”

A sense of unease welled up in Solaire’s throat. He gripped tight at his shield.

“Caution, Adria. Don’t get too close. Let’s not forget who this is.”

“He’s nothing but a filthy betrayer of man,” Adria said. “And I know precisely what he’s planning.”

“What do you—”

“You can feel it, can’t you? That palpable desperation in the air. Nito’s gathering what remains of his energy for one final attack. He means to collapse this tomb onto our heads. He means to bury us... but I won’t allow it.”

Solaire studied her face, his gaze tracing the dark circles around her eyes.

“You’ve changed,” he said. “The Adria from before never once spoke with such contempt in her voice.”

Her severe expression was unmoving.

“Maybe I’ve realized what I need to become if I want to survive this place.” Adria glanced in his direction. “I think I finally understand what you meant. Our affliction... it’s as much a blessing as it is a curse, isn’t it, Solaire?”

The knight sheathed his sword and reached for the small bundle of cloth tied to his belt. With a quick tug, he undid the bindings and cradled the white fabric in a loose grip.

Solaire spoke in a quiet tone.

“You’re correct. Our affliction, it’s a curious thing—a death sentence for some but for others, it’s... it’s the opportunity to do the impossible.”

Adria readied her staff.

“And which are you, Solaire?”

He frowned.

“I do what I can.” With the barest hint of a thought, energy surged through his fingers. “And right now, there is only one thing I can do.”

Gravelord Nito dies today.

In one fluid motion, Solaire raised the talisman high above his head, open-palmed as if plucking fruit from a tree. The air crackled with energy. Static jumped within the talisman, and in an instant, Solaire wrapped his hand around a volatile bolt of lightning, pulling it from nothingness as if it were there all along.

Electricity arced between his fingers. Sparks kicked and surged against his grip. The lightning spear was nothing more than a vicious projectile that wished to be let loose—his faith given a destructive form.

And it always struck its mark.

Solaire turned to the side, silent as the tomb they stood in. Their gazes met, a moment passing before Adria gave a slow nod. They understood well enough what was on the other’s mind.

A blue glow pulsed from the tip of her staff. Adria stepped forward, gloves straining as her hands tightened around the pale wood. Without warning, the blue haze gathered together on the staff’s end, materializing into a cluster of shimmering cobalt crystals.

Solaire felt his brow furrow as the crystals morphed into sharp barbs, growing larger and larger until the tip of Adria’s staff was a crystalline spearhead of nightmarish spikes and thorns.

Your soul magic continues to impress me, Adria.

Several meters away, the mountain of bone that was Gravelord Nito heaved up and down, leaning against his sword as he struggled to his feet. With one final push, Nito’s tremendous form left the ground, clumps of mud and dirt falling from his rising bones.

It’s time.

Solaire squared his feet, drew his arm back, and gripped tighter on the lightning bolt in his hand.

The air reverberated with energy as Adria focused her magic.

And straight ahead, Nito spread wide his arms as if welcoming his destruction.

****

Twilight couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy at the sight of the crystal. Standing opposite of her was Princess Celestia, a lavender glow illuminating her face. The hoof-sized stone hovered between them, emitting a low melodious tone as if someone were playing the cello several floors below. With a sigh, her gaze travelled over the crystal’s clouded surface, taking in its rough edges and jagged structure.

Eyes wide, Celestia stepped forward, a hoof slowly reaching out.

“Whoa, wait!” Twilight pulled the crystal out of reach. “What are you doing, Princess?”

A moment passed before Celestia let her hoof down, gold shoes clicking against stone. She gave a slow nod.

“I apologize. It has been almost a millennia since I’ve last seen a soul crystal like this. I’ve forgotten how destructive they can be.” Celestia’s ears twitched in the wind. “Twilight, are you sure this is the decision you want to make, wanting to dispose of it?”

Twilight breathed in deep.

“It’s the only decision,” she said. “I can’t keep it in the library and I can’t leave it here—I realize that now. If something went wrong again...”

Celestia raised up suddenly.

“Again? What happened?”

“Nothing major, just—” Twilight let out a weak groan. “Without really thinking I had asked Spike if he could bring it up from the basement. I had just made the crystal you see, so I was still pretty exhausted. The next thing I hear is a loud crash and...”

“The crystal cut through his scales,” Celestia said, shutting her eyes.

Twilight looked away.

“Through dragonscale. I… I couldn’t believe what I saw, Princess. I still don’t believe it. After we made sure everything was okay, Spike told me all he did was touch the crystal and it just—” She shook her head, grimacing. “I cannot keep it in the library.”

The glowing gem quavered in her telekinetic grip.

Celestia looked on, a curious expression crossing her face.

“Could you not leave it here?”

“That’s what I originally intended, but… I can’t. It wouldn’t be right, not after everything you’ve told me.”

Celestia’s gaze flicked between the crystal and her student.

“Twilight, I understand how much this crystal means to you. No matter how you view things, that piece of rock was created from your soul. Wanting to discard a piece of yourself, it can’t be an easy decision. It shouldn’t be an easy decision.” Celestia paused, a moment passing before she spoke again, quieter than before. “Only if you wish... I can take the crystal off your hooves. To hold it for you—in a vault—until such a time comes that you wish it returned.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t, because I’m offering.” Celestia tapped her hoof against the floor. “If there is even a small doubt in your mind that you may want to keep it, just tell me and I won’t press you further. Once destroyed, there will be no getting it back.”

“There isn’t,” Twilight said with an air of finality. “I just want it gone.”

Moonlight bounced off the balcony’s stone tiles. A cold wind blew by, but neither pony took notice. Instead, Celestia nodded and moved away from the railing on steady hooves. She came to a stop in the center of the structure, her tall form silhouetted by the light pouring out from within the tower.

For a brief moment, Celestia was still. Her ears stood tall and alert and a deep intensity stormed behind her eyes. With one deep breath, her chest filled with brisk summer air before she exhaled through pursed lips. Celestia nodded.

“Very well, Twilight. I will help you dispose of your crystal.”

The unicorn smiled, her shoulders straightening as if a great weight had been lifted.

“That’s good,” she said, the relief apparent in her voice. “That’s very good. It’s wonderful actually! When can we start, Princess?”

“We can begin now if you wish. It won’t take but a moment and I imagine that you’re eager to put this all behind you, yes?”

Twilight nodded, the crystal bobbing with each rise and fall. Horn glowing, she started toward Celestia, an eyebrow raising when her teacher remained rooted in place. She shot a glance into the tower.

“Princess?” she began. “Is this a simple spell? Something that, well… you can conduct out here? It’s just that this isn’t what I’d call the most secure of testing environments, and considering what we’re doing, I—”

“Peace, Twilight. For the spell I have in mind, I couldn’t ask for a more ideal location.” Celestia smiled. “Besides that, I don’t think the palace staff would be too happy with me if they found out I’ve been burning things indoors, would they?”

Twilight only hummed a response, but inside a thought was churning. A thought of what was to come. A thought of heat and flames—a thought of fire.

Princess Celestia lowered her head, a second passing before her horn took light. From root to tip, a soft yellow glow bloomed outward, a beacon in the night. She spared a glance toward Twilight, her eyes lingering as if searching for a confirmation to proceed.

Twilight nodded.

And then the balcony burned.

A kaleidoscope of oranges and reds burst from Celestia’s horn, forming shapes, flowing, living and dying in the span of a heartbeat. Despite the harsh brightness, Twilight didn’t step away or shield her eyes—she watched in wonder as the lights danced on whispers of wind, flowing around her like falling leaves in the middle of autumn. But it was not meant to last. A pressure built up in her head as if she stood abruptly, and with a sudden clarity Twilight knew it was over.

The first thing she noticed was the quiet warmth licking at her coat. The only feeling Twilight could equate it to was snuggling into a thick blanket after taking an especially cold bath. She smiled, savoring the tingling sensation in her face.

Celestia hadn’t moved; she stood where she had always been, but now there was something else. At her hooves was a small flame, flickering about in a cool breeze.

As Twilight’s eyes came back into focus, the oddities surrounding the flame became much more apparent. The fire didn’t flicker so much as it did sway, and like ribbons, bands of orange light rose up into the dark before fading away.

Unnatural, Twilight would have called it. The fire looked as if someone without eyesight were asked to illustrate a flame using only a description as a guide. Brow furrowing, Twilight’s sense of calm was replaced by one of deep curiosity.

Twilight took a step forward, but the words died in her throat when Celestia hit her with a silencing gaze.

The princess spoke in a tone that brooked no further argument.

“I will answer your questions, Twilight, but not at this precise moment. Right now, there is only one thing that I need you to do.”

The crystal floated in a field of purple magic.

Celestia nodded slowly, the whites of her eyes catching the flame’s glow.

“Drop the crystal into the fire.”

****

Atop the pile of corpses stood Solaire, his gaze searching through the bones and dirt. Gravelord Nito was dead—the god had been blasted apart by their two-pronged attack, reduced to nothing but a mountain of skeletons and several bits of bone that had been scattered by magic and lightning. Several meters away, Adria waded through the shallows, her head bent low as she occasionally paused to sift the sand with a boot.

Without a sound, Solaire leaned down and plucked a ribcage from the pile, wordless as the ancient bones crumbled between his fingers. Whatever magic that was once infused in them was now gone. Sighing, he directed his attention to the sorceress.

For ten minutes they had been searching, and for ten minutes she had been silent.

Find it, was all Adria had said before she turned away, a weariness in her gait. There were no smiles. There was no celebration. They may have killed the Gravelord, but something was missing.

Only when she cleared her throat did Solaire realize that Adria was looking his way.

“Have you found anything?” Her voice echoed through the cavern.

Solaire shook his head.

From such a distance, it was hard to tell what she was thinking. Adria wrinkled her brow and murmured something under her breath.

“Keep looking,” she finally said. “I’m not leaving here without the Lord Soul.”

Solaire looked down at the untold number of bones beneath his feet. Buried somewhere within the remains was the driving force behind Nito’s strength.

The soul of a god.

My very own sun.

He nodded to himself before lowering to his knees. A quick breath filled his lungs and with a renewed spirit, Solaire dove back into his work. As the seconds dragged into minutes, a quiet monotony set in. Reach inside, scoop away. Reach inside, scoop away. Before, the thought of so carelessly tossing aside such an obscene amount of human bones would have appalled the knight. Solaire clenched his jaw, pushing the sentiment far out of his mind.

He dug with a fervor, a silent dedication to his work, and as he brushed aside bone after bone something finally caught Solaire’s eye.

A skull—yellowed and desiccated—appeared within, twin pits of black staring back at him with lifeless intent. Frowning, Solaire reached in and grasped the skull, a quick tug dislodging it from the grime.

Immediately, a bright orange glow filled the cavern. Solaire reeled back, his grip loosening on the bone.

“Solaire!” Adria’s voice.

The knight shielded his eyes, his other hand already gripping the sword at his waist. From within the depression poured out a single beam of light as if a torch were burning inside.

Water splashing. Adria approaching.

Solaire leaned in close, an orange glint catching the front of his helmet.

“What is it?” Adria again, somewhere below.

A smile spread across his face.

“The Lord Soul,” he breathed. “Adria, it’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

Amidst the dirt and bones whirled a wild sphere of fire. Brilliant oranges and yellows twisted and churned, raged and boiled, but somehow the soul retained its shape. In a daze, Solaire reached out, not caring about the impressive heat battering his hand.

As expected, the soul was intangible—pure energy could not be grasped—but the soul clung to his outstretched limb, seeking out life in any way it could.

With a victorious grin, Solaire held out the Lord Soul in an upturned palm, hovering inches from his skin. He cast his gaze out and in an instant he saw her waiting several feet below, staring up at him with narrowing eyes.

His grin widened.

“Adria, the Lord Soul! Praise the Sun, we’ve did it—there’s hope for this world yet!”

Adria was motionless.

“Why are you so excited?” she said, her voice just loud enough to be heard. “Our quest has only just started, and you’re acting as if we have already reached the end.”

Solaire bit back his response. There was something in Adria’s tone, in the way she spoke that gave Solaire pause. Slowly, he descended the pile of bones and was soon standing face to face with his partner.

Adria’s gaze was piercing.

“Undying optimism, Solaire. That’s what you have.”

“I tend to not let things get me down, yes.”

“To be honest, it’s refreshing… to know that there can exist someone with such a positive outlook in a land so bleak.” An unidentifiable expression crossed her face. “But it makes me wonder.”

The Lord Soul swirled between his fingers, a wild dance that caused the shadows to flicker along the walls. For the first time, Adria looked down at the light, a moment passing before she turned away.

“Before, Solaire, I couldn’t help but smile around you. Like the knights from my childhood stories, you swept into that tower and rescued me. You taught me how to swing a sword, you sat with me and talked the horrors out of my mind. If it weren’t for you, I’d be gone. Through you, I survived.”

“I did only what I was able. I could not have left you there knowing that you wouldn’t have lasted the night.”

“Yes, and that’s what separates you from everyone else.” Adria shut her eyes. “That’s what separates you from me.”

An uncomfortable sensation welled up in Solaire’s throat.

“What are you saying, Adria?”

“You were right when you said I’ve changed. I didn’t want to acknowledge it at first, that this place was leaving its mark on me, but… I couldn’t ignore it any longer. Not with you constantly at my side. Even now, you continue to smile, you continue to laugh, but deep down I know that I’m wasting away.” She shook her head. “You can talk away the horrors, Solaire, but there are some things that cannot be forgotten. They’re burned, etched into my memories like some sort of hideous mark, I—”

Adria took a shallow breath.

“I didn’t understand,” she continued. “We have both seen the same things—you’ve been with me since the very beginning, and yet... I’m the only one being scarred.”

“Adria—”

“But then you told me,” she said. “From out of nowhere, you told me your secret. I had only assumed at first, it was the sane thing to do—to assume that you were a victim of the curse just like me. That your bright, shining optimism stemmed from your hopes of making the best of a bad situation.”

Adria barked out a humorless laugh.

“You cursed yourself,” she stated. “You cursed yourself! You willingly came to this land bearing the burden of undeath to spread the light of your lord! I realized then, Sir Knight, that logic does not apply to you.”

Solaire watched in silence as she raised a hand to her head, gloved fingers tracing the side of her face like the multi-jointed legs of a spider.

A smile, cold and cruel, graced her lips.

“Insanity is a curious thing, isn’t it, Solaire? In a just and fair society, a man who is of unsound mind is quickly identified and isolated. Laws are made and those with power uphold them—it’s the natural order of things. But in Lordran, there is no guard at the gate or walls to surround you as you sleep. You are truly and utterly alone, and in this unnatural land without law or reason... those who follow the rules are the ones who are truly insane.”

A bead of sweat trailed down the bridge of Solaire’s nose. He tried to speak but his brain was a jumble of words and disconnected thoughts.

Adria continued unabated.

“Like a shining beacon you emerged from the dark with your honor and gallantry. At the time I was nothing but a shell of a human—how could I not have been taken in? The power you possessed, I had never once seen anything like it. You were so soft-spoken, and yet there was a confidence in your words that touched me in such a way I couldn’t help but believe in them too.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I realize now that it was just air all along. Your words: the product of an addled mind.”

“Adria,” he began, “everything I am I owe to the Lord of Sunlight. My strength, my—”

“Again you discount yourself. The gods are gone. They care not about you or me or anyone." Adria breathed in deep and let it all out in a quavering sigh. “The only person you can truly rely on is yourself, Solaire. Our time together has taught me that.”

For only a second, Solaire glanced down at the Lord Soul sitting atop his palm.

“So that’s what this is about,” he said. “You think you’ve discovered my true nature, and now you wish me gone. Why is that I wonder… you don’t like what you see?”

Adria nodded slowly.

“I’m continuing this quest without you. You’re a good man, a good person. A shining example of what it means to be human, but… but we’re not exactly human anymore, are we? Honor and chivalry have no place here, and there’s no longer a place for you at my side.”

“You’re only deceiving yourself,” Solaire said. “I wish to save this world just as you do.”

“I wish to save humanity.” A quiet intensity raged across her face. “Do you see now where we differ, Sir Knight? Look around you. This is what you want to preserve.”

“Tis the work of the gods. The crown of civilization.”

“And they abandoned it and left their subjects in ruin.”

Solaire shook his head.

“What is it that you intend, Adria?”

“When I succeed here in Lordran I will continue on and wipe this world clean of their existence.”

“You would destroy everything I stand for.”

“Yes.”

“And you realize now that we will surely come to blows. I will not take this affront standing.”

A sharp whistle cut through the air as Adria drew her weapon: a thin silver rapier that still glimmered despite the lack of light. She pointed it outward, her brow lowering.

“Give up, Solaire, and we can end this peacefully. Just surrender the Lord Soul and I will disappear like a dream upon waking. You’ll never see me again.”

“I can’t do that. If I quit now, I will surely hollow.” Solaire reached around his back and grasped his shield, lifting the metal plate by its grips before holding it steady at his side. “Or maybe you’d like to see me that way—a shambling corpse of a man who can hardly string together two thoughts.”

“Never,” she said. “I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy.”

“Then what am I to you, Adria?”

“An obstacle. Nothing more. Nothing less.” With her free hand, Adria pulled free the steel buckler strapped to the side of her leg. She held her arm out, fingers flexing around her shield’s leather-bound grip.

It’s come to this then.

Not once taking his eyes off her, Solaire deposited the soul into the dark leather pouch tied to the back of his belt. He secured the knot with practiced fingers before grasping the pommel of his sword.

“Then I will do what I must.”

He started forward, each step sending a ripple through the dark waters below.

****

The heat only grew more intense the closer Twilight drew to the fire. It seeped into her body, lingering as if something inside her desired the warmth. She came to a stop at the edge of the small flame, the flowing reds and oranges a stark contrast against the dark sky.

Above her horn hovered the soul crystal, emitting a strong glow as if it were aware of its own impending destruction. Twilight took a slow, deep breath, a wave of heated air filling her lungs.

Celestia stood several paces away, her face a mask of neutrality. Twilight spared a glance toward the princess but no words were exchanged. Celestia gave one final nod.

She’s leaving it in my hooves, Twilight thought. She’s always done that, hasn’t she? Letting me learn and grow from my mistakes.

Twilight smiled a small smile—a quiet, personal thing for herself and herself alone. With a quick thought, the light surrounding her horn blinked away, severing her ties with two months of hard research.

For only a brief moment the crystal hung suspended in the air before it started to fall, plummeting downward into the awaiting flames. A splitting crack sounded across the balcony as the crystal shattered against the floor. Twilight watched as the remaining shards disintegrated within the fire, each one fading into nothingness.

Only when all the shards were gone did Twilight look away from the flame. She turned toward her teacher, an appreciative smile prepared, but what she saw sent a cold dread shivering down her spine.

A wide-eyed Princess Celestia stared back at her, the fire’s glow illuminating the alarm on her face.

“Princess, what—”

“Step away, Twilight.”

“I-I don’t...”

“Step away from the fire!”

She never heard what Celestia said next.

A bloom of blinding light and smoldering heat smashed into Twilight’s side, sending her sprawling to the floor. There was no sense of direction. There was no up or down. There was only the flames, the fire enveloping her face and coat. In desperation, Twilight tried to cry out but quickly realized that she was already screaming. She wrapped herself into a ball, squeezing shut her eyes to protect them from the superheated air.

“—ilight!”

Something prodded her just below her neck.

“Twilight! Get up!”

Celestia’s voice.

Twilight’s eyes shot open. A haze of shifting white filled her vision. Her mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. She attempted to speak but all that came out was a garbled mess of vowels and half-hearted consonants.

“Shh, Twilight. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Celestia’s voice again. Calming words but the distress was apparent. “Can you move?”

Twilight blinked away the blurriness only to see Celestia standing over her, the princess’ legs like pillars off to each side of her head. Far above, stars shimmered in the night sky.

“I-I don’t know,” Twilight murmured. It was taking a considerable effort to speak. “What happened?”

Celestia didn’t look down at her.

“The fire expanded—violently. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s caused this or why it’s happening.”

Twilight took a moment to assess her body as much as she could. She was laying on her side—she could tell that much by her forelegs splayed out in front of her and the balcony’s flooring pressing shut one of her eyes. After taking a deep breath, she willed her rear legs to move only for a searing pain to shoot down each limb.

Twilight grimaced, a surge of panic bubbling inside her chest.

“Princess, am… am I…”

“You’re okay, Twilight. You’re not burned or scorched or anything. The flame’s magical in nature—the pain will fade in time. For now I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me?”

The unicorn nodded slowly, shakily, a quiet relief sinking in. Already, she could feel the pain subsiding as if a flip were switched in her brain to tell her body to stop hurting. After a moment’s contemplation, she craned her neck upward to catch a glimpse of the fire.

Twilight paled.

Celestia had diminished the scale of it. The fire was massive, dominating the center of the balcony like some blazing overlord. The flames arched and stretched through the air, pulsing back down before surging again to towering heights.

Twilight’s mouth was dry.

“I-I was in that?”

“Not even for a second,” Celestia said. “I pulled you out as quickly as I could, but… not quickly enough it seems. Again, I’m so sorry, Twilight. If I had only reacted faster—”

“It’s okay, Princess. I’m just glad you were there.” She focused on the raging flames, a frown forming on her lips. “My soul crystal… it caused this, didn’t it?”

Celestia shook her head.

“I don’t know. I really don’t kn—” Her ears perked up and her body stiffened. She looked down at the pony between her legs, dark shadows cast upon her white face. “Pray tell you heard that as well, Twilight Sparkle.”

She looked up toward Celestia, her eyes widening.

“W-what is it?”

“Listen.”

Twilight concentrated on her hearing, ignoring the sounds of her racing heart and the constant roar of the fire. She frowned. “Princess, I—”

A scream.

No.

A scream from within the flame.

Oh no.

Twilight clambered to her hooves, ignoring the dull ache piercing through her legs. She focused on the fire, hoping that she would see nothing at all.

There’s nothing there. Please let there be nothing th—

A shape. The barest hint of a figure obscured by the coiling flames.

Something pulled within Twilight’s chest. She gasped out, just the very thought of it sapping the strength from her knees. Her legs buckled together, and she would have fallen back down had Celestia not caught her with an outstretched limb.

The princess gazed into the fire, an orange glint reflecting in her eyes.

“Get behind me, Twilight.”

“Princess, w-what is that! There’s something in there!”

“Get behind me.”

Twilight gave a shaky nod before falling into place behind one of Celestia’s flared wings. They both stared straight ahead, but for Twilight there was a mix of confusion and fear boiling beneath the surface.

Another scream echoed out, louder than before.

The thing in the flame twisted and writhed, growing more and more defined as the seconds passed.

And then she saw it.

The fire shrank in a thunderclap of heat and noise, immediately exposing the creature that was caught inside the inferno.

Twilight blanched. That same pulling sensation returned, squeezing her lungs and choking her breaths. She fell to her rear, unable to stand but unable to look away.

“What is that thing?” Twilight whispered.

The creature was tall, she realized—at least twice her height—and it gave off a metal clinking sound with each step it took. Small wisps of flame still clung to its body and grey smoke curled around its limbs. She looked again to its gangly legs, its cloth-adorned back, before finally settling on the reflective bucket it wore on what she could only assume was its head.

Chainmail.

Helmet.

Armor. The creature was wearing armor.

But only warriors would need...

There, grasped in its hand was something Twilight recognized. A long steel sword hung limply from the creature’s grip.

A weapon. Its blade coated by rust or some sort of red—

A quick gasp forced its way out of her mouth when the sword fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Snapped out of her thoughts, Twilight sucked in air when she realized that she had not been breathing. Apprehensively, she looked up towards Celestia.

“Princess,” she whispered, “what is that thing?”

“I was hoping you could tell me, Twilight...”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before. Not in any books or texts or—”

A low groan cut through the air.

Twilight’s ears perked up.

“Was that…”

“...killed me.” The creature grasped at the railing, arms shuddering as it struggled to hold its weight. “She’s killed me…”

With wings spread wide, Princess Celestia took a single step forward, her gold-shod hoof tapping against stone.

Celestia’s voice rang out crisp and clear.

“Identify yourself. What are you?”

The creature swivelled its head in their direction, revealing the two black slits in the front of its helmet. The fire guttered weakly between them, casting everything in an orange glow. As one of its hands left the railing to complete its turn, Twilight saw the image emblazoned across the front of its chest.

A large radiant sun was stitched into the fabric of its tunic, eight red rays surrounding a bright sphere of yellow.

Twilight bit her lip, a thousand questions racing through her mind. She was about to speak when something caught her eye.

There, on the left side of its belly was a dark red—almost crimson—stain, blooming across the white fabric at an alarming rate.

“Blood,” Twilight whispered. A dull buzz rang in her ears as she looked to the floor, silently cursing herself that she hadn’t noticed the drops of red earlier.

Celestia took another step forward.

“I’ll say this only once more… what are you?”

An eerie silence had fallen over the balcony. The creature stared back at them as if petrified, the slight rise and fall of its chest the only indication that it hadn’t been turned to stone. A shaking hand went to its wound, patting down before pulling away wet.

Twilight’s ears flattened when the creature let out a feeble cough. She tried not to notice the blood dribbling down from the bottom of its helmet.

Another cough.

“I-I suppose that’s it then.” The creature’s voice. Masculine, but weak and terribly muffled. “Talking horses—I’ve hollowed. I’ve gone insane.”

The creature swayed on his feet, and for a second Twilight thought he would collapse right then and there.

“You’re hurt,” Celestia stated. “We can help you.”

“And now the tall one with the pretty hair is offering to help me. It’s too late, ghost, I’ve already died.”

Celestia raised a hoof.

“You seem to be suffering from a delusion. Please, calm yourself. We must sp—”

He let out an unsteady chuckle.

“Figment of a broken mind or not, your hair… it truly is beautiful.”

And then the creature plummeted over the side.

****

Rarity was the first to notice the strange lights. Not five minutes ago she pointed a hoof to the top of the tower, drawing Applejack’s attention to the glimmering orange glow.

“No idea,” Applejack had remarked, and that was that. Rarity fell back into silence and Applejack simply sat under the tree next to her, content with waiting at the base of the tower until Twilight was done with her talk.

She drew in a contemplative sigh, savoring the calm atmosphere. She needed this—a weekend away from the farm. Her closest friends, a new city, and nothing but good cheer to keep her company. Applejack smiled.

A vacation of sorts, Rarity had called it.

Over the last several days, Rarity had assured her that this year’s gala would be different, that the poshness remained but the snobbery had been dialed down to acceptable levels.

Times change, Applejack. The unicorn’s voice echoed in her head.

Applejack thought back to Twilight’s lecture and that darned crystal of hers. She may not have understood any of the magicky, technical jargon, but she could pick up on words, and what she did hear, she did not like.

Severing and splitting and attrition, they had all left a terrible taste in her mouth. Applejack shook her head, her smile shrinking away.

Change, huh?

She hoped it was for the better.

As if reading her thoughts, Rarity bumped her in the side.

“Things will improve,” she said. “I’m sure of—”

A harsh crack ripped through the air. Without thinking, Applejack flung herself across Rarity’s back and in that instant, the world was a dizzying blur of swirling leaves and splintered branches. When she finally dared to open her eyes, she saw only bits of wood and fallen vegetation scattered all around them.

Rarity’s head was turned over her shoulder, a single wide eye regarding Applejack with a look of shock.

“You okay?” Applejack asked as she pulled herself to her hooves. She helped Rarity up before dusting off her own forelegs. “Talk to me, girl. Yer not hurt or nothin’?”

Rarity shook her head before craning her neck upward. Barely visible through the thick foliage of leaves was the top of the tower, a white spear in the dark sky.

“W-what was that?” she whispered.

“Something fell,” Applejack said.

“Fell?”

“From the tower I reckon. Hit our tree like a bolt of lightnin’.”

“Applejack, what...” There was a slight quaver in Rarity’s voice.

Applejack gave a slow nod.

“There’s nothin’ for it then. We best have a look before our imaginations get the best of us.”

The tree was old; a massive, gnarled oak that stood in the center of the clearing. Applejack got as close to the trunk as she could and started her circle, stepping between the protruding roots as she followed the circumference of the tree. A quarter of the way around, Applejack stopped dead in her tracks.

There, several yards out in a patch of moonlight, a shallow groove was gouged into the earth. A number of leaves and large branches lay nearby, knocked loose by some unknown force.

Something had impacted that spot. Hard.

Rarity gasped.

“Wha… what did this? Applejack, please tell me that you have some idea...”

“Look.”

She slowly raised a hoof. Clearly visible in the pale light was a trail of crushed grass as if something heavy were dragged across the ground. Without moving, Applejack traced the path, eyes squinting as it took a harsh left before disappearing out of sight behind a row of trimmed hedges.

“Applejack?”

The earth pony shook her head.

“I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

“What do you mean?” Rarity asked her. “Somepony could be hurt or dying or worse. We need to investigate.”

“It’s not that I’m against helpin’, Rarity, but listen.”

“Come again?”

“Listen.” Applejack frowned. “It’s quiet… no sound, no cries for help. There’s nothin’. We didn’t hear anything, did we? Not even a groan of pain. Don’t you find that just a tiny bit odd?”

Rarity was silent for all of three seconds.

“What do you propose we do then?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Rarity, I ain’t turnin’ my back on this. If some poor, prideful pegasus took a nasty spill then we’ve gotta be there, right? All I’m sayin’ is... is that we proceed with caution. We’re dealin’ with Twilight here—a thousand and one things could’ve crashed into that spot.”

A voice sharp and vivid cut through the air.

“Well spoken, Applejack. I could not have said it better myself.”

The earth pony’s heart leapt into her throat. She did a slow turn, her eyebrows raising when she saw the solitary figure sitting under the opposite side of the tree.

“Princess Luna?”

Rarity gasped, stepping forward.

“Princess Luna!” She brushed out a leaf that had fallen into her mane. “My word, how long have you been there?”

“Quite some time,” Luna said. “If you’re afraid that I’ve been listening in on your conversation, strike away any doubt.”

“Oh my, well... thank y—”

“I heard everything.” Luna finally looked in their direction. “You fear for Twilight Sparkle and that is why you’ve come. But let me ease your mind—regarding her research on the soul, she has the made the right decision here tonight.”

Rarity’s ears gave a small twitch.

“You… you’ve been eavesdropping.”

“On whom, might I ask?”

“On everypony!”

Luna poked at the grass with a hoof.

“Eavesdropping is such an ugly word isn’t it? I dislike ugly words, especially this one. It implies that I was spying on you: gathering classified information using subterfuge and back-hoofed tactics.” Luna smiled. “When I sat here tonight, I had no prior knowledge that you and Applejack would show up as well. Besides, is it really my fault that you didn’t check who else was in your presence before you so freely started speaking?”

Rarity narrowed her eyes.

“We didn’t see you.”

“If you looked hard enough you surely would have.”

“Ladies, please.” Applejack stepped between them and breathed out an exasperated sigh. She turned toward Luna. “Princess, you said you were here the entire time… earlier than us even. You must’ve seen whatever it was that fell, didn’t ya?”

“Indeed I did,” said the princess. She adopted a more serious tone. “To be honest, I’m still reeling from the shock of it all.”

Applejack studied Luna’s face but it gave away none of her emotions.

“What was it?”

Luna looked up, her blue eyes catching the light of the moon.

“Not a pegasus, I can assure you of that.”

The princess rose to her hooves and started forward like a breath of wind, making not a sound as she came to a stop next to the damaged earth. Frowning, Applejack sided along next to her before being joined by a hesitant Rarity.

One by one, their gazes focused on the wet soil.

“That’s blood,” Rarity breathed.

“Sure as shootin’,” replied Applejack. “A lot of it too.”

Luna’s eyes followed the damp trail of crushed grass. She sighed, looking to each of them in turn.

“This is from a wound most grievous. No one will fault you if you turn back now.”

Applejack pulled at the brim of her hat.

“You heard me earlier, didn’t ya? I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

****

The wound didn’t close. The flow hadn’t stopped. Despite his preconceptions, despite the talking horses, despite everything, the coldness that pervaded Solaire’s body felt all too real. Slowly, he leaned forward to peer at the mess of crimson that was his tunic.

Didn’t close.

Too much. With a pained gasp he slumped once again onto the stone wall behind him. Even sitting down he could feel his energy draining away with each pump of his heart.

Hurts.

It hurts.

Solaire shut his eyes and focused on his breathing. That was all he could do.

And think.

Solaire could think.

Her voice—the one with hair like dawn and sunset—she had a very pretty voice.

An angel in disguise.

He could feel a faint trace of a smile cross his lips. And then there was the smaller purple one like a tiny orchid who barely reached up to his waist. She had big expressive eyes, true windows into the soul.

And she was afraid.

Afraid of me.

He willed his body to move but it was no use. His arms lay uselessly at his side and his legs were splayed out at odd angles in front of him. He had gone far enough.

Solaire breathed out a weary sigh. The grass felt nice between his fingers. The air was fresh and clean. And voices, faint but growing more pronounced, floated on the edge of his senses.

Wait.

Voices?

With enormous effort he craned his head toward the sound, and there, staring back at him was a trio of ponies, wide-eyed in their silence. The blue one moved first, starting forward on slow, silent hooves. It watched him every step of the way as if he were a snake ready to lunge.

The other two—orange and white—took the rear. They shared a look before falling in line behind the blue one. Again, Solaire could read the doubt and apprehension on the duo’s faces as if they were an open book.

Soon, the leader was standing at the edge of his feet, staring down at him with emotionless eyes.

“Can you speak?” she asked in a decidedly feminine voice.

As Solaire looked from her horn to her wings and finally to the small crown resting atop her head, he realized the absurdity of his situation. Solaire held back a chuckle.

“Might I have your name, My Lady? I know not what else I’d refer to you as...”

“Luna,” she said. “Princess Luna of Equestria.”

“A beautiful name. A befitting name.” Solaire attempted to raise his arm but it refused to move. “I’d honor you respectfully but I’m afraid I am on the verge of death! How troublesome.”

"I care not about what you are, I won’t allow you to die in this garden.” Luna looked to her charges. “Rarity?”

The white unicorn stiffened as if waking from a trance. She stepped forward, her eyes widening.

“Y-yes, Princess?”

“I may need your help,” Luna said. “Are you able?”

“Of course!”

Rarity trotted to Solaire’s side, her hesitant gaze searching across the surface of his helmet.

“Don’t worry, Mister… ah—”

“Solaire of Astora, it’s… it’s a pleasure, truly.” He let out a weak cough. “Would you take offense if I said that you have a wonderful color?”

Rarity bit her lip as she looked down at his wound.

“Princess, whatever you have in mind, please hurry.”

“A healing spell,” Luna said. “I will need you to guide it into the affected area. Your magic is concise and controlled where mine is flowing and uncontained. We will be more effective if—”

“It won’t work,” Solaire murmured. “I’ve tried and it didn’t close.”

“We will be the judge of that, Solaire of Astora.” Luna glanced down at his wound, her horn taking light. “Rarity, are you familiar with cooperative casting?”

The unicorn gave a shaky nod. “It’s been years but I’ll manage.”

“As long as you understand the basics,” said Luna. “I will start slow so that you may get used to the spell. After fifteen seconds, I will gradually increase power until the wound is sealed. It will be overwhelming at first, but if you focus only on the task at hoof then everything else will fall into place.”

Luna narrowed her eyes.

“Are you ready for this?”

Far in the back, the orange pony stirred.

“Yes,” said Rarity.

Immediately, the light surrounding Luna’s horn intensified, bathing everything in a soft blue glow. Rarity paused only for a moment before her own horn sparked to life. A vibrant hum filled the air as the blue light began coalescing into a bright sphere inches above Rarity’s head. Luna nodded in approval when a transparent ribbon of magic appeared between them, connecting their horns from tip to tip.

“Very good,” Luna said, “but now it gets difficult.”

With a look of pure concentration, Rarity exhaled through clenched teeth. Solaire watched as the sphere began projecting a thin beam of blue light onto the center of his chest as if Rarity were deliberately aiming for the sun stitched there.

“Now gently guide the spell into the affected area,” directed Luna. She glanced upward. “Solaire, if you could please move your hand so that we may get a clear line of sight.”

“A-ah… I apologize.” The knight let his arm fall to his side. “I’ve never been fussed over by such kind ladies before. I-I pray that your efforts will not be in vain.”

“Save your strength,” Luna said. “Quickly now, Rarity, I will be increasing my magic output in but a moment. Be ready for it.”

Rarity gave a stiff nod, and soon the beam of light was aligned with the giant red splotch on Solaire’s stomach.

Luna leaned in closer.

“What do you feel, Solaire? A slight tingling? A feeling of weightlessness as if you might float away any second?”

Solaire tried to shake his head.

“Cold,” he whispered. “Tired. Freezing, I… I can’t feel much of anything really.”

Luna’s brow lowered, her horn pulsing into a brighter blue.

“Increasing energy flow,” she uttered, not looking away. “How do you fare, Rarity?”

The unicorn’s voice came out strained.

“I’ve a strong grip on the spell. Don’t worry about me.”

A strange silence fell over the garden. Only the faint hum of magic could be heard as the two ponies worked together in tandem. All the while, Solaire was still. He watched them without a word, his gaze flicking between their blurred forms. When the seconds bled into a minute, then two, then finally three, Solaire could feel something wrench in his chest when he saw that Rarity’s magic had started sputtering. The unicorn clenched her jaw and a bead of sweat trailed into her brow.

She looked as if she were about to collapse.

Luna’s eyes fell shut.

“That’s enough,” said the princess. “There’s no use in continuing.”

“No…” Rarity shook her head. “I-I can go on! Really, I can!”

Luna frowned, her horn losing its light. “You yourself know those words are false. I admire your spirit, Rarity, but you’ve reached your limit. If we were to continue, you’d only exhaust the rest of your magic..”

“Princess, we can’t quit. We cannot. Another spell perhaps, or maybe a—”

A feeble cough caught their attention.

“I-I’m sorry,” Solaire said. “To both you. I could see it in your faces, you both really wanted to save me. I… I think that’s all I could have ever asked for.”

Another cough.

“Again I’m sorry, but… I’m afraid I too have reached my limit.”

Rarity approached on slow hooves, her gaze focused on the slits of his helmet. She sat in the grass by his side, the small bump in her throat bobbing up and down.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “What do I say in a time like this? Can I say anything? Should I say anything? I—”

She ran a hoof across her eyes.

“—I don’t know what to say…”

Solaire let out a quiet chuckle.

“Save your words, Miss, we will surely speak again.”

That drew a smile from the unicorn but only for a second. She turned away, a pained look crossing her face.

“Listen to you, like those silly knights from my foalhood stories with their grandeur and romanticisms.” Her lips formed a tight line. “But… but I suppose that it’s me who’s being silly, isn’t it?”

“Not silly,” Solaire said. “It’s because you have a kind heart. To think that you’d worry for a wretched soul like me… you’ll only waste your tears.”

“I believe every life should be mourned for,” Rarity whispered, taking a long pause. “Even though I don’t know who you are, let alone what you are, it’s… it’s sad.”

She sniffed.

“Did you have many friends?”

Solaire looked her in the face.

“At one point, yes, but… not anymore.”

Rarity’s ears lay flat against her head. She opened her mouth for a brief moment but no words came out.

“What of you, Miss?” Solaire voiced quietly.

Rarity drew in a slow, staggered breath. “They’re the most wonderful ponies in the world.”

Despite his vision blackening around the corners, Solaire didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on the orange pony’s lips.

“You’ll have to introduce them to me later,” he murmured. His body felt heavy. It was getting difficult to speak. That familiar sensation of being pulled away was growing in his chest.

Luna bent low her head.

“He will die soon,” said the princess. “It won’t be long now. Minutes at most.”

A moment passed before Solaire realized that Rarity was resting her hoof atop his hand. She was looking down at him with sad eyes—eyes that bespoke the misery that she was feeling. Solaire frowned. He knew that look, he had seen it many times before.

With all the strength he could muster, he raised his hand and grasped at her fetlock. Startled, the unicorn gave a quick tug but Solaire only gripped tighter.

The orange pony stepped forward.

“Save your tears and save your words,” Solaire said. “You may think me insane, but I promise you… we will speak again.”

Homeward

“Great miracle cast by advance clerics. Return to last bonfire rested at. Would normally link to one's homeland, only the curse of the Undead has distorted its power, redirecting casters to a bonfire. Or perhaps for Undead, this serves as home?”

Author's Note

A heartfelt thanks to my friend and editor, Kitsunerisu.

Chapter Three - From This Nightmare

As Princess Luna predicted, the creature named Solaire had died moments later. Even before the spell had been cast, Applejack was certain that Solaire would not survive. The wound he suffered was too deep. Too severe.

Fatal.

Applejack shivered, but not from the cold. She had realized the harsh realities of life at a very young age, but something about Solaire’s passing had left her numb.

There was no desperation in his actions, no anguish in his voice. In that small corner of Celestia’s garden, he had simply waited for death to take him as if he were stuck on a stalled train. Solaire, that unknown creature, had died without a single struggle or fear.

Applejack couldn’t help but glance down at the unicorn asleep at her hooves. A thick blue cloak was draped across Rarity’s back, and like lines of shimmering silver, the swirling designs embroidered along the cloak’s hem glittered in the moonlight. Covered as she was, the cloak did nothing to disguise Rarity’s slow breaths—the fabric rose and fell in even rhythm, a telltale sign of a deep sleep. Applejack pulled tightly at her own cloak before turning her attention back to the commotion surrounding them.

Not ten minutes ago, a small array of guards had entered the garden like sentient shadows. Four mares and two stallions by Applejack’s count, and they all moved with a silent purpose in their step.

The stallions had left Applejack and the slumbering Rarity their cloaks before joining their compatriots at the edge of the garden. Applejack already had a guess as to why they were there, and when she saw that solitary corpse floating away on a bed of blue magic, she knew that her assumption was correct.

The rest of the guards remained, pulling samples from the soil and talking in muted voices with Princess Luna about what had happened. They spoke little with Applejack, offering only quiet words of sympathy before carrying on with their duties. Applejack sighed as she looked once again upon Rarity’s curled form. Perhaps they thought it best not to wake her friend.

Poor girl.

She had taken Solaire’s death to heart, Applejack was sure of that. When he had stopped breathing, Rarity hadn’t moved for an entire minute until the shock of it all finally overcame her.

Something squeezed inside Applejack’s chest. She cursed herself for not saying anything back then and she cursed herself for not knowing what to say now. Maybe there was nothing she could say. Her mind had simply ceased to work.

For a second, the guards looked toward the garden’s entrance somewhere over Applejack’s shoulder. At once they all snapped a quick salute before returning to their separate tasks.

Even in her dazed state, Applejack didn’t miss the small frown that appeared on Luna’s lips. The earth pony craned her neck to the side, her eyes instantly focusing on the tall white figure standing several yards away.

With a quiet resolve, Princess Celestia started forward. Each step she took was slow and controlled, her expression one of stoic deliberation. As the two princesses met the other's gaze, Applejack could feel a sense of unease washing over her. There was no exchanging of pleasantries or even a calm nod. There was only silence, and in that moment, Applejack understood the severity of the situation.

She thought back to the lecture, the strange lights atop the tower and Solaire’s sudden appearance—somehow, Applejack knew they were connected. Somehow, Applejack knew who was at the center of it all. And somehow, Applejack found the strength to speak first.

Her words were deafening in the dark.

“Where’s Twilight?” she whispered. “Where’s Twilight Sparkle?”

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 3 - From This Nightmare

By the time her friends had arrived, Twilight had already adjusted to the sanitary smell of the infirmary. The room was small, containing only four beds lined up in a neat row along the white-washed walls. Separating them were pale blue curtains, offering some level of privacy in an otherwise cramped space.

Although privacy was the furthest thing from Twilight’s mind.

At the foot of the bed stood Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, regarding the unicorn with varying levels of concern. When Twilight told them what had happened, Pinkie’s smile fell away, Fluttershy’s frown deepened, and Rainbow Dash, the most impassioned of the three, threw her hooves up in exasperation.

“Care to run that by us again?” Dash asked. “I know things can get pretty weird around you, but this is like ‘whoa’, you know? A whole ‘nother level if you catch my drift.”

Dash let out a short chuckle.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a bad dream or something?”

“I’m sure,” said Twilight as she rubbed at the space between her eyes. “Something—a creature that we had never seen before—emerged from the fire and started mumbling like… like I don’t even know.”

She looked to each of her friends.

“He was hurt, I know that much.”

Fluttershy took a small step forward, her eyebrows arched in concern.

“Hurt?” she whispered. “A-and this is the same fire that… that put you in here? Maybe he fell because the poor dear was so blinded by the pain, I… I can’t even imagine it. It’s so awful.”

Twilight took a deep breath.

“He was bleeding, Fluttershy. A wound to his lower torso if I saw correctly. The fire was excruciating, yes, but only for a few seconds. If direct contact with the flame didn’t debilitate him, then I don’t think its effects could have sent him tumbling over the railing.”

Twilight nodded slowly.

“The wound was the culprit. Without a doubt.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Dash cut in. “The big guy falls, and you’re like ‘whoa, gotta get down there’, but Celestia’s like ‘no way, you’re going to the clinic because that fire kinda messed you up’. Not in a major way, you know, but like to make sure that you’re alright I guess.”

“Right,” said Twilight.

“So she basically carries you here and then takes off again, but not before waking me up in like the creepiest way possible.”

“Whoa... hold on.” Twilight blinked. “What did the princess do?”

Dash smirked.

“I’m kidding, Twi. She just kind of poked her head into my room and was like ‘hey, you should probably go to the infirmary and check on your friend’. That’s it.” Dash’s wings flared out for a brief moment. “So now that you’re in here, when can you get out? Are you still feeling achy?”

“No, I’m fine,” Twilight said, sparing a glance toward Pinkie. “The nurse said that the aches would be gone within the hour, so yeah, I’m fine. What about you, Pinkie? You’ve been, well… strangely quiet.”

The earth pony gave a delicate smile.

“You didn’t get a name, did’ya Twilight?”

“Wha—”

“Our mystery guest! A name, you didn’t get one…”

“I-I’m sorry, Pinkie, it all happened so fast.” Twilight looked to her other two friends. “He was there, and then he wasn’t. The shock of it all, I… I hadn’t even thought of asking. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Rainbow Dash said, stepping forward. “We can just ask him later, right? It’s no big deal, Pinks. Whatever you decide to put on his banner I’m sure he’ll like it! It’s not like he’ll think the party’s ruined because his name wasn’t on some giant ribbon.”

She scoffed.

“And if he does, then I’ll just have to kick his flank. It’s as simple as that.”

Twilight was about to protest when two knocks at the door drew their attention. Before anyone could say ‘enter’, in walked Applejack, her hooves loud against the linoleum tiling. Immediately, Twilight knew that something was wrong. Applejack’s mane was disheveled and windswept and though she stood at far end of the room, it was apparent that there was something weighing heavy on her mind. She bent her head low, the brim of her hat hiding her face.

“Applejack?” Fluttershy’s voice broke the silence.

“Ain’t no need,” the earth pony whispered. “Ain’t no need for a party.”

Applejack looked up, her gaze meeting Twilight’s.

“Your critter, Twi, he’s dead. His name was Solaire, and he passed away about thirty minutes ago. Blood loss I reckon.”

A pause.

“Dead?” murmured Twilight. “Oh my gosh, h-how do you know?”

“I was there,” said Applejack. “Waitin’ at the base of the tower. We were planning on talkin’ to ya about that crystal of yours when everything went, for lack of a better word, south.”

Dash quirked an eyebrow.

“We?” she said. “You mean Rarity, right?”

“No, I mean the other white unicorn that ain’t in this room.” Applejack winced, continuing again with less venom in her voice. “She’s asleep. In her room now, hopefully. Last I saw, Princess Celestia was carryin’ her down the hall. Didn’t say much but told me to keep y’all here until she arrived.”

Twilight stepped out of the bed, her eyes widening.

“Applejack, what happened? Is Rarity okay?”

The infirmary was quiet for a brief second.

Applejack shook her head.

“Not really, no. She’s takin’ this real hard, Twi. Known her all my life and this is the worst I’ve seen her shaken up.” Applejack sighed. “I know you never intended for this to happen, but... I think y’all two need to have a talk when she wakes up, and don’t get me wrong, not just about what’s happened here tonight, but the past two months. A real serious talk.”

“I-I—”

“No, listen to me, Twi. Me, Fluttershy, we… we ain’t unicorns, yeah? That whole lecture of yours flew over heads, but Rarity? I-I think she understood. Well enough anyway that you really put a fear into her.” Applejack paused. “She told me she couldn’t sleep, you know. That she was scared for ya. Only reason I asked her to come along with me to the tower was because I saw the lights under her door.”

Twilight could just make out the bags underneath Applejack’s eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you all so much,” she whispered. “I got caught up in something silly this time, didn’t I? If there’s anything I can do...”

“It’s fine,” said Fluttershy in that soft voice of hers. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Twilight.”

“Hey, hold up.” Dash frowned, scratching at her foreleg. “I, uh, I know this is kind of a moment for you, Twi, but are we seriously gonna overlook the fact that some alien died like right outside those doors? I mean, from the way you told it with the crystal and all… call me crazy but it sort of sounds like you summoned him here.”

Everyone turned toward the unicorn.

“Rainbow Dash, that’s absurd. Weaving such a complex spell does not happen by accident. Formulas have to be followed. Strict, strict rules have to be adhered to! If even one component is misaligned, the whole spell would fizzle out!” Twilight shook her head. “There’s no way a summoning spell was formed. Accidental or not.”

Before Dash could offer a rebuttal, Pinkie Pie let out a low hum. The earth pony stepped forward, her head tilted upward and a hoof held underneath her chin as if she were that famous statue in Manehattan Square. Pinkie looked to each of them in turn, a victorious smile growing on her lips.

“I’ve got it,” she began. “An answer to this mystery—an end to your misery!”

“Oh gosh,” said Applejack.

“Misery?” whispered Fluttershy.

“And she’s back,” Rainbow Dash finished.

Pinkie ignored the comments, instead turning her attention toward a bewildered Twilight.

“It’s like this, Miss Sparkle! Your crystal was like a bad batch of muffins! You poured your metaphorical heart and your literal soul into that pretty crystal but then you told us you didn’t want it anymore, right? So you threw it away!”

Twilight frowned. “Really? Muffins?”

“No, Twilight. Bad muffins—there’s a big difference. You throw away the bad ones and keep the good ones! You see, when a batch of muffins goes bad, Mister Cake tells me to toss them right out the window because they won’t play nice with the others!”

“Pinkie, I… I don’t get it.”

“No no, listen, Twilight. You didn’t throw your crystal out a window—” Pinkie’s smile widened, “—you threw it out a door, and forgot to lock up shop!”

Silence once again fell upon the infirmary. Four ponies looked to each other in unison, all of them wearing wide-eyed expressions. Applejack’s brow furrowed, Rainbow Dash chewed her lip and Fluttershy quivered on the spot.

Twilight nodded slowly.

A door.

“And something snuck in,” she whispered.

Whatever her friends had said afterward, Twilight didn’t hear. A thousand questions were racing through her brain and the only pony who could provide a definitive answer was somewhere out in the halls. Twilight nodded again before starting for the exit, but was stopped by a blue hoof placed on her chest.

Rainbow Dash frowned. “We could practically see the gears turning in that head of yours, Twi. Care to fill us in?”

“It wasn’t a summoning spell,” Twilight said. “It was teleportation magic… and he cast the spell himself.”

Applejack looked as if she had been struck. “What are you sayin’, Twilight?”

“I’m saying that some unknown creature managed to warp within three yards of Princess Celestia! There’s wards—strong magical barriers—set up to prevent this kind of thing from happening. If that fire we made is acting as some sort of bypass gate, then I’ve got to tell her!”

“Whoa whoa, wait.” Applejack held out a hoof. “What fire?”

“Atop the tower, Celestia cast this… this—” Twilight groaned, “—this spell! I wish I could but I can’t really explain it right now!”

Twilight sidestepped the pegasus but Applejack moved to block her way.

“This sounds important, Twi, but I can’t let you go.”

“What?”

Applejack sighed.

“Like I said, I gave my word to the princess that I’d keep y’all here until she arrived. Specific instructions... I ain’t goin’ back on ‘em.”

Twilight took a deep breath.

“Applejack, this is a matter of national security. Let’s say that this wasn’t an isolated incident, let’s say that there are more of these ‘Solaires’ out there—we could have a serious crisis on our hooves. You understand, right? I need to speak with Celestia as soon as possible.”

“I can see that, but I’m sayin’ that she’s on her way right now. This castle’s big, Twi, and she could be anywhere. One wrong turn and you could finish a marathon before you’d ever find her.”

Twilight’s pulse quickened.

“You’ve really picked a wonderful time to put your hoof down on something, you know that Applejack?”

“Earth pony,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “Tenacious, hard-working and stubborn. If you won’t budge then I’ll just teleport past you.”

If she had been paying any less attention, Twilight would have missed the momentary hurt that flashed behind her friend’s eyes.

“You see this, Twi? Maybe I’m stubborn, but this is you being too goshdarn impatient to realize that we want what’s best, too! And do you honestly think Celestia hasn’t thought of this either? I don’t—” Applejack gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. “If you’re leavin’, go ahead and do it. I might not look it but I’m at the very edge, so please—do not push me anymore.”

Twilight could feel the combined gaze of her three other friends on the back of her head. She turned away.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered, and in a flash of purple magic the infirmary disappeared.

A short jump by Twilight’s standards—she had simply warped into the large hallway on the other side of the clinic’s walls.

Analyze.

Visualize.

Actualize.

The three ‘I’s’ of teleportation. Twilight was certain that if she was given enough paper and ink, she could sketch out in amazing detail the layout of Canterlot Castle. As she had been taught, knowing the target location was half the teleport in and of itself.

Twilight sighed. She could just make out the muffled voices of her friends through the closed door. With a quick swivel, Twilight turned to leave but the sight in front of her caused her to stop in her tracks.

Not even four paces away in the center of the hall stood Princess Celestia, her eyes wide and a hoof hovering over the floor as if she were frozen mid-stride.

“Twilight,” she said at the exact moment the infirmary door burst open.

A flap of wings of accompanied by a raspy growl told her that Rainbow Dash had found her way into the hall.

“Twilight! What the hay are you—” the pegasus took a startled breath. “Princess? How long have you been here?”

“I’ve only just arrived,” Celestia said, her gaze flicking between the two ponies. “Is something the matter?”

Twilight could feel something sink in her chest. She looked to the floor, unable to face her teacher or her friends. She heard Rainbow Dash’s hooves striking against the white tile, the loud taps screaming in her ears.

Any second now, she’s going to tell Celestia everything.

Drawing closer.

My impatience.

Twilight shut her eyes.

My cowardice, my—

“Well, golly! If it ain’t the princess!”

No...

Against every impulse telling her not to, Twilight craned her neck to the side. There, standing half-obscured in the infirmary doorway was Applejack, a wide smile on her freckled face.

“How’s Rarity?” she asked the princess. “Get ‘er to her room safe?”

“As safe as can be,” Celestia said, nodding. She looked to the growing number of ponies as Fluttershy and Pinkie crept out of the small clinic, both wearing looks of surprise.

Celestia quirked an eyebrow.

“Is there a reason why you’ve decided to meet me in the hall? I pray that it’s not on my behalf. Please, for my peace of mind, don’t put yourselves out because of the title that precedes my name.”

Applejack let out a chuckle as natural as rain itself.

“Don’t you worry about that none, Princess! To be honest, it didn’t even cross our minds. The thing is, that room can get awful stuffy and we all thought it best that we get some air... stretch out our legs some.” She shot Twilight a sidelong glance. “Ain’t that right, girls?”

A pause.

“Y-yeah,” Rainbow Dash said. “Stretch out our legs.”

Celestia gave a wan smile.

“Okay, my little ponies, on to business then.”

She gestured for each of them to gather round.

“As Twilight may have told you, a series of disturbing events has occurred here tonight, starting with a magical phenomenon and, well... ending with a death. I sorely wish that this is not the case but there is no downplaying what I am about to say...” Celestia breathed in deep. “In all my years I have never once observed a creature anything like this ‘Solaire’ before. Whatever he has said—either in the presence of Luna or myself—is all we know about him.”

Twilight raised a hoof but Celestia shook her head.

“As for his rather untimely and unexpected appearance,” Celestia continued, “I have explored almost all avenues. The conclusion I have come to is that a long-range teleportation spell was used, employing a strong magical eruption as both an anchor point and bypass gate.”

Rainbow Dash let out a not-so-subtle ‘what’, and Pinkie quirked her head to the side.

“Essentially a door,” Twilight said for her friends’ sakes. “A door that can only be opened with the right key… or spell, in this case.”

“Precisely,” Celestia said. She looked to her student. “As for what you might be thinking, Twilight, I have dealt with the problem as soon as I was able. Nothing else can leak through without my knowing.”

Twilight could feel Applejack’s gaze on the side of her head.

“Hold up,” Rainbow Dash cut in. “You said ‘without your knowing’... that kind of implies that the door is still there, doesn’t it?”

Celestia took a long blink.

“Yes,” Celestia said. “Just to clarify, our ‘door’ is a small flame, and I was not able to extinguish it. I wish I could provide the answers as to why, but I lack the proper knowledge. As far as I am aware, there has never been a precedent of this ever happening. Moving forward, ladies, we are essentially blind.”

Twilight nodded slowly.

She had definitely heard the word, ‘we’.

“The fire that we created… keeping us all in one place—” she looked up, “—You need the Elements to extinguish the flame.”

“Perhaps down the line,” Celestia said without missing a beat. “But as of right now, usage of the Elements is a strict last resort. I’m a firm believer that knowledge is the best preventative to calamity. Until we have properly studied the flame and ascertained where our Solaire might have come from, the flame will continue to burn—under heavy supervision of course.”

Celestia looked to each of them.

“Is this acceptable to everyone?”

A long silence filled the hall. One by one, the ponies nodded until only Fluttershy remained.

“Um,” the pegasus began, “the body, I’d… if it’s okay, I’d like to see it. H-he passed away lonely and confused and I don’t think that’s fair. He shouldn’t be buried the same way.”

Twilight didn’t miss Applejack’s frown.

“What do you intend?” asked Celestia.

A focus burned behind Fluttershy’s eyes.

“If you let me, Princess… just a small ceremony. A few words to ease his soul.”

Celestia nodded slowly.

“You have a kind heart, Fluttershy, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I will allow your request but not tonight. There is much to be done in a very short window of time.” Princess Celestia met all five of their gazes, her brow lowering. “I trust that you each understand that you are not to speak of this to anyone. Not the palace staff. Not the Royal Guard. Not anypony. What has been discussed here tonight is on a strict need-to-know basis, and those who need to know—I assure you—already know.”

“I mean nothin’ by it, Princess, but why all the sneakin’ around?” Applejack asked.

“Because,” Celestia began, “if even the barest hint of a hostile presence were to be leaked to the public, Canterlot would face a mass panic. Despite my assurances, the changeling threat is still fresh on the populace’s mind. One spark is all it would take to reignite this city’s fear.”

Twilight stepped forward, mouth open, but the princess shook her head.

A sigh escaped Celestia’s lips.

“I hope you understand,” she whispered, “But I am reluctant. Reluctant to share shards of fact when I myself do not know the whole truth.”

Applejack gave a strong nod.

“You have our word,” she said. “We ain’t gonna blab, babble or gossip about this to no one. It don’t matter how much a certain pink pony may or may not want to, we ain’t gonna do it.”

That earned a gasp from Pinkie Pie. She made a comically-large frown before pantomiming her trademark swear.

As Celestia watched, It was as if a weight had been lifted off her back. She gave each of them a small smile.

“Very good,” she said. “We will meet again in two hours at a location that has yet to be decided upon. However, I ask that you remain on the palace grounds or my message will not be able to reach you.”

“Uh, Princess?” Rainbow Dash scratched her head. “It’s like, four in the morning—where would we go?”

“To bed,” Applejack groused. She turned to leave. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m plum tuckered out. Don’t ya worry none, Princess, I’ll make yer meetin’. I’ll be good for it after a little shut-eye I reckon.”

“Sleep?” Dash said in a flat tone. “Sleep. You’re gonna go to sleep. After everything we’ve heard, you’re gonna go to sleep.”

“Yup,” was all she said. Applejack was already several paces away when she glanced back over her shoulder, the slight frown on her lips still visible. She locked eyes with Twilight, and just like that she was gone, disappeared around the corner.

Rainbow Dash shook her head, breathing out a puff of air.

“Sheesh, because aliens aren’t exciting, right? I swear, if AJ keeps this ‘grandma’ thing up, she’s gonna be knitting us sweaters in the next few years, I guarantee it.” Dash gave the remaining ponies a nod before starting a trot in the other direction. “I’ll see you girls in a couple hours, yeah? I’m gonna see if I can catch the guards at their morning exercises—you with me, Pinks?”

Twilight watched as Pinkie gave a swift nod.

“You bet’cher blue flank I’m in!”

And with that said, the two set off, their hushed voices fading in the distance.

Twilight and Celestia both turned to the last of their group.

“Um,” Fluttershy began. “I-I think I’ll check in on Rarity if that’s okay. And if she’s awake, I’ll… I’ll tell her everything that we’ve discussed. She’ll want to know I think.”

“Good idea,” said Twilight. “I know you’ll be gentle with her, so I… I guess there’s nothing else to say really. I’ll see you in two hours, Fluttershy.”

The pegasus nodded and smiled toward Celestia before shuffling off in the same direction as Applejack. Princess and student watched her go, the silence of the castle filling the void left by her friends.

They both stared straight ahead, neither of them moving.

“I guess I should go too,” Twilight began but before she could take a single step, Celestia halted her with a wing.

“Wait,” said the princess. “There’s actually something you may be able to help me with.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about the body? I-I’m not sure I can, Princess. If all you need is an extra pair of hooves, Fluttershy, she—”

“She’s a kind mare, I know, but it’s not compassion that I need right now.” Celestia looked down at her with a neutral mask of a face. “Twilight, what I need is a sharp, analytical mind that has seen the creature alive firsthoof. Can I trust you with this?”

“I…” Twilight gulped. “Yeah. You can.”

Celestia nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she said. “Follow me.”

****

They had been walking in silence, the only sound was their hooves striking an odd rhythm in the dim glow of the castle corridors. Currently on the second floor of the guest wing, two minutes of brisk walk down their current hall would have brought the pair to the main foyer, and most importantly, to the large segment of castle that connected the rest of the wings.

It appeared their destination was closer than anticipated.

Twilight made no mention when they took a left down a servant’s hall, but the urge to speak became too great when Celestia took another left into an even smaller passage. Walking side by side was no longer possible.

“What is this place?” Twilight asked. She noticed that the brickwork here was different somehow.

Newer, her mind told her.

Celestia slowed her pace.

“My sister’s idea,” she said. “In the outside chance that an event like this this were to happen, Luna had this corridor built in secret. An ideal location and easily disguised considering that the palace rarely receives guests.”

Twilight nodded. It was true, a guest staying at Canterlot Castle occurred at the same rate as solar eclipses—hugely infrequent and only for short stretches of time. She smiled.

Ever aware, Celestia took notice.

“And what is it that you find so funny, my student? Have I said something humorous again?”

“It’s nothing, I just… I think it’s wonderful that you have a little sister—someone who can browbeat you until she gets her way.” Twilight gave a small giggle. “Stars know I’m guilty of that. I bullied my brother something fierce, always pestering Shiny to take me to the library, I… I miss him.”

Celestia continued on, her hoofsteps echoing off the narrow walls. Her voice came out soft and muted.

“Twilight, may I give some friendly advice?”

“O-of course!”

“Trust your friends more. They may not be family but the bonds you share with those girls is just as strong.”

The words almost stunned the unicorn. She stopped mid-step, swallowing away the lump that had formed in her throat.

“Back at the clinic, you… you heard.”

“You weren’t running away, Twilight, and make no mistake, you were not distrusting of Applejack either… you had simply trusted yourself more. Don’t get me wrong, I believe that self-sufficiency is important, but you have to realize, my student—” Celestia paused, “—your friends, they expect you to lean on them when you need it most. Your bonds won’t break if you apply a little pressure, believe me, but I guarantee you that they will rot away from disuse.”

“I-I—”

“I’m sure you’ve heard this phrase many times before, Twilight, but allow me to say it just this once. Friendship is a give and take relationship, but all you’ve been doing is giving. Learn to be selfish and accept their help—you’ll be glad you did I think.”

At this, Twilight remained silent. She focused only on moving her hooves.

“I just want to protect them,” Twilight whispered. “After the Crystal Empire, I...”

“I know,” Celestia said.

“They aren’t glass dolls, I realize that, but—”

“But nothing, Twilight. You said it yourself, they aren’t made of glass… and neither are you.” Celestia glanced back at her. “You’re going through a rough time, duelling with unpleasant thoughts. I feel that in the wake of your research, you have been left especially vulnerable to emotions such as this. An ailing soul desires healing, so give your soul what it wants. After we’re done here, I want you to speak with your friends. It will do you a world of good.”

Twilight nodded but before she could say anything, Celestia came to a sudden stop.

“We’re here,” the princess said.

Just ahead was a plain wooden door, nondescript in its appearance except for the two metal bars that ran across its vertical planks. The door appeared as if from thin air, and only when Twilight took a glance behind her did she realize the strangeness of the situation. A single door at the end of a long, ominous hall—even if she hadn’t been told prior, it was readily apparent which of the two royal sisters had commissioned this corridor to be built.

Twilight couldn’t help but clench her teeth when a golden light enveloped the door’s metal grip. On silent hinges the door swung towards them, revealing a shallow, red-brick room completely stocked with brooms and buckets. A solitary shelf was pressed up against the wall, holding a single toolbox placed in the middle of the centermost rack.

“Storage,” Twilight said. “Of course.”

“Not quite,” Celestia replied. She moved first, entering the small room before gesturing for Twilight to join her.

The unicorn observed the cramped conditions.

“I, uh… are you sure about this?”

“Trust me,” Celestia said, “I feel just as silly as I look, but yes. This has to be done.”

No less wary than before, Twilight stepped inside, taking note of the pristine conditions within. The bristles on the brooms held not a spot of dust and the buckets carried a gleam as if they were just polished yesterday. Twilight frowned.

“What’s going on, Princess? First the hallway and now this? Something’s clearly not right here.”

“Measures taken by my sister,” Celestia said. “She’s always had a fascination with designing these sort of things. Now if you would, Twilight, please shut the door—we’ve kept them waiting long enough already.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed.

Them?

She did as she was told, nudging the door shut with a burst of magic. Immediately, darkness fell over the pair, the dim glow from Twilight’s horn the only illumination in the small room. Twilight could hear Celestia step forward, and like a cannon in the night, a resounding thump filled the air, the sound of Celestia’s hoof knocking against the storage door.

A second passed.

And then five.

And then ten.

Twilight’s ears perked but the only noise she could hear was the quickening beat of her heart. She bit her lip, looking up at the shadowy silhouette of her teacher barely a hair’s breadth away.

“Princess, is this…”

“Peace, Twilight—we’ve arrived.”

Before she could comprehend what Celestia had said, a blue glow enveloped the door. Twilight stepped back as the door slowly slid open, and there, standing in the threshold was a tall figure with a starry mane, the bright light behind her shading her features.

“Is it acceptable that she’s here?” Princess Luna asked, glancing in Twilight’s direction.

“Of course,” Celestia said. “Who else is inside?”

Luna gave a nonchalant flap of her wings. “Captain Rook, but only because he insisted.”

Twilight took Celestia’s silence as a moment to observe the chamber just ahead. When her eyes finally adjusted, she realized that the dim hallway was gone, replaced by a windowless slate-colored room. Twilight grinned, a familiar giddiness welling up inside her chest.

A spatial warp!

“Sister... we both agreed that we were to build a team of experts,” Celestia murmured, “ponies we can trust on this.”

“And so I’ve brought Captain Rook,” Luna said.

Celestia was quiet for a brief second.

“And what expertise does the good captain bring to the table?”

“Almost nothing,” Luna admitted, “but I appreciate his candidness. He rarely speaks and he’s often blunt about things, but I value his opinion just as much as you value Twilight Sparkle’s. Besides, I know he won’t faint at a grisly sight.”

Luna smiled, stepping to the side.

“I hope it’s not a common occurrence that you go around showing corpses to your student, dear sister.”

Celestia said nothing as she exited the storage cabinet. She shared a private nod with Luna and as both princesses turned toward Twilight, the unicorn felt a bloom of heat creep into her cheeks when she realized that she hadn’t budged from her place amongst the brooms and buckets.

“You’re welcome to stay in there,” Luna said, her smile widening. “It’s quite cozy, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” was all Twilight said. She joined the princesses and as she took in the sight in front of her, a cold shiver crept down her spine.

There in the center of the chamber was a long slab of solid stone, built into the floor like some sort of archaic table. A still form lay atop the slab, and with the help of the exceedingly bright light shining down from the ceilling, Twilight had no problem identifying who it was.

Not still, Twilight thought, but lifeless.

She found herself walking forward, her limbs moving of its accord. This mysterious creature was alive not even an hour ago, and now he was dead. A simple concept, but as Twilight drew closer, the further from her grasp it seemed to slip. Only when she was four paces away did she realize that there was a grey-coated unicorn stallion standing at the foot of the slab.

“You’re Captain Rook,” Twilight said in a daze.

He nodded slowly, the golds of his armor glinting in the white light.

“And you are Twilight Sparkle,” he said in a deep baritone of a voice. “I hear you are a mare of unmatched wit and intellect. I look forward to working with you, Miss Twilight.”

“I… yeah, you too.”

“Very good,” Luna announced from a distance to Twilight’s left. “Now that we’re all here, we can truly begin investigating the circumstances surrounding this creature’s sudden appearance.”

“It seems you’ve already started,” Celestia said from the opposite side of the slab. She looked down at the corpse, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve removed his vestments.”

“Only those there,” Luna said, pointing her horn to the pile of ruined gear on a table in the back of room. “I needed to see his wound.”

Twilight bit her lip, her gaze coming into focus. Hesitantly, she perched her forehooves up on the edge of the slab, and there, she caught her first glimpse of what the creature looked like without his armor. Twilight’s breath caught in her throat.

Bronzed skin stretched itself taut over packed muscles. A chest—large and bulking—dominated her view. As her gaze wandered over his body, she could only wonder how such a creature looked like in motion. She was just finishing observations on the creature’s arm when her gaze wandered upward, finally seeing the gaping hole that had ripped into Solaire’s abdomen.

The wound had already been wiped clean, no doubt by Luna herself, but that did nothing to disguise the severity and brutal nature of the injury itself. Jagged and a hoof’s diameter across, Twilight could only wonder how Solaire had still been standing—let alone conscious—after sustaining such damage.

She turned away, a tightness gripping at her chest.

“Twilight?” Celestia’s voice.

“I-I’m okay,” the unicorn whispered. “Just a little shocked is all.”

One deep breath later, Twilight looked again with a keener eye, taking notice of the series of pale lines that criss-crossed his body.

“Scars,” Celestia said. “You can tell which are fresh and which are old.”

“I’ve seen this before,” Rook said. “Creatures that live and die by claw and teeth are more often than not covered with scars. The price you pay for fighting your whole life.”

Celestia’s lips formed a tight line. She turned to Twilight for a brief moment before glancing down at Solaire’s face.

“Look,” she said, “and tell me what you see.”

Twilight gave a stiff nod. She sidled over and once again propped up her hooves, her gaze taking in Solaire’s features. Immediately, she recognized the familiar aspects: a strong, angular nose, two eyes thankfully shut, and a mouth—a mouth seemingly curled into a small smile.

She looked to Celestia, blinking, before she continued with her observations.

A shock of unruly, sandy brown hair covered the top of Solaire’s head. She furrowed her brow as she leaned in closer, taking note of the thick stubble that covered his defined jaw. Almost unwittingly, Twilight found herself once again drawn to that smile as if he were just having a pleasant dream.

“He looks happy,” Twilight murmured.

“He does, doesn’t he?” agreed Celestia in a low tone. She turned toward Luna, who was watching the proceedings with a calm aloofness. “Sister, do you know anything about this? Did he say something—reveal anything that might tell us his purpose for being here?”

“Nothing that stands out,” Luna said with a shake of her head. “Rarity was on the verge of tears. Emotions were running high. If our Solaire had a message to impart, it was drowned out by his need to comfort the unicorn. Strange, considering he was the one doomed to die.”

Celestia shut her eyes, breathing in deep.

“We’re missing something,” she said. “A crucial piece, a fact overlooked. We’ve already surmised that he teleported here, but… but how?”

In that second, Luna appeared stunned.

“What did you say...”

“He teleported here,” Celestia repeated, “using the flame atop my tower as an anchor point.”

Luna was silent as she looked from Celestia, to Twilight, before finally settling on Rook.

“Captain,” she began, “are you familiar with the lecture Twilight Sparkle gave fifteen hours ago?”

Rook nodded.

“Word travels fast in this city—Miss Twilight proved the existence of the soul.”

“Then there’s no longer a need for me to hold this back any longer.” Luna said. “Over one thousand years ago, I made that same discovery. I developed the art of soul magic, founded a school in my name, but a series of events led to that work being lost. However, I hold no grudges. In fact I consider it a blessing that my research had remained buried for so long.”

Luna’s ears twitched atop her head.

“Buried, until it was unearthed by one Twilight Sparkle and then presented for all the world to see. I immediately confronted my sister about the risks her student ran, and later still as I listened from a distance, I considered the dangers averted—the lessons that needed to be taught, learned.”

“And then our guest appears,” Rook said as he glanced down at Solaire’s corpse. “A coincidence?”

Luna’s horn took light, conjuring a small metal tray high above her head. She stepped forward and with a scowl she slammed the metal tray onto the slab in a heavy telekinetic grip.

“I do not believe in coincidences, Captain.” She turned toward Celestia. “Your missing piece.”

Twilight’s heart stopped. There in the center of the tray were several small fragments of blue crystal, still marred by Solaire’s blood.

“Soul magic,” Luna said, “crystallized into a weapon and impaled into this creature’s gut as if he were pig to be hunted. But you see, that’s not why I withheld it, no—these aren’t fragments, Celestia, these are residue particles—what remains after the Rule of Dissipation.”

A second passed.

“No…” Celestia whispered.

“It is true,” Luna replied.

“Your Majesties,” Rook began. “Please forgive me, but I do not understand.”

Twilight caught the captain’s attention with a sidelong glance.

“When magic dissipates, it turns into microscopic particles of energy, we all know this. Strangely enough, the same holds true for crystals—they just require extra incentive to break down into its particulates.” Twilight gazed down at the small blue stones. “If these are the ‘microscopic particles’ that remained, I… I can’t even imagine the raw power of the spell they were part of.”

Luna nodded.

“And for our Solaire to have survived it… do you see now, Captain Rook? What we are facing is something that we have never encountered before, either magically or biologically. Somewhere, somehow, there exists a murderous creature capable of wielding soul magic that I could never achieve. And now that I’ve only just discovered that Solaire is capable of teleportation, well… who’s to say his assailant won’t—”

Celestia raised a hoof.

“Everypony.” Her voice was stern and level. “We will learn what we can, as quickly as we can. I have decided: in two hours time, we will assemble the Elements of Harmony and extinguish the flame that has allowed him access to Equestria. If we let it burn any longer than necessary, the threat of another creature leaking through could rise to catastrophic levels. I will not take that risk.”

“The right decision,” Luna said. “As for now, how should we proceed?”

Celestia gave a slow nod, looking to the three other ponies in the room.

“Twilight, Captain Rook… I need you two to look through Solaire’s possessions once more. His gear—the bags, the pouches, the sword—anything that might help us understand his origins, search it.” She turned toward Luna. “As for you and me, sister, we will focus our efforts on the corpse itself. We all have our assignments everypony, now go.”

Wordlessly, Rook set out for the table pressed against the back wall, pausing long enough for Twilight catch up. She spared a backward glance toward the two princesses only to see their heads close together as they whispered in low tones.

All too soon, Twilight arrived at the long table. An assortment of large cloth bags and leather pouches were arranged by size on the far right side. Rook, taking that end, left Twilight with the shredded chainmail and bloodstained cloth that once covered Solaire’s chest. His helmet had been placed near the table’s edge, and the sword—extremely sharp—lay parallel to its large leather sheath.

She reached out with her magic and took the ruined tunic in her grip, levitating it high enough to reveal the image that had been stitched into its surface. The sun with its red rays and strange face stared back her and as she looked to the large crimson stain that dominated its lower half, she couldn’t help but grimace.

Twilight set the tunic down with a sigh but before she could move onto the next object, a whisper of words breathed past her ear.

“—do you mean?” Celestia’s voice. Barely audible.

Twilight slowly swivelled her head.

“—can sense it…” Luna this time. “Only just, but it’s there.”

Rook had turned to look as well.

Celestia took a step back.

“Luna you cannot mean—”

“I can feel it,” the dark pony whispered, “the barest hint of a thought.”

Luna slowly looked down at Solaire’s corpse.

“A dream.”

****

The woman hadn’t said a thing for the past ten minutes. She sat completely still, her head bent low and cradled in her thin hands. The bonfire between them only served to illuminate her hollowed form—she was a corpse in every sense of the word, long since dried out as if she were a mummy left out in the afternoon sun. Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly and if she were capable, Solaire was sure that she’d have been weeping.

“W-why?” she whispered. “Why is this happening…?”

Solaire adjusted his seat in the grass, a frown forming on his lips.

“You’ve been killed,” he said, “but the curse inside you is prolonging your existence. I am sorry—you will never know true peace."

At this, the woman remained quiet. She crossed her arms, pulling tight at the sleeves of her threadbare jacket.

“Come a little closer,” Solaire said. “The fire will keep you warm.”

For the first time she looked up, revealing the twin pits of black that occupied the space where her eyes should have been. She pulled herself forward without saying a word.

“What’s your name?” Solaire asked her.

The woman hugged her knees close to her chest.

“I can’t remember,” she murmured. “I don’t know anymore.”

“You know your name,” Solaire said. “You’ve just misplaced it.”

“Like a book?”

“Like a book.”

“What if I can’t find it?” she asked him.

“Then you will go insane,” Solaire said. “You will become a monster.”

She looked away.

“I don’t want that.”

“Then remember your name,” Solaire said. “It is not lost or gone or destroyed—it is misplaced, and misplaced things can be found.”

“It hurts,” she whispered. “It hurts to remember.”

“Then I will help you.”

“How?”

Solaire held up his hand, palm facing outward.

“How many fingers am I raising?”

A long pause.

“Three,” she said.

“And now?”

“Four.”

“Good,” Solaire said. “Now count to ten in your head, and I promise you… before you are finished you will remember your name.”

She looked at him, a pained look crossing her face.

“I-I can’t,” she said. “I fear what I might discover.”

“Then you will go hollow.” Solaire shook his head. “Is that what you desire—to become one of them?”

“No!”

“Then what is it that you want?”

The sounds of a dead world filled the silence between them.

She clenched her fists.

“I want to wake up from this nightmare.”

****

Solaire breathed in deep. His limbs felt heavy and his mind was a blurred mess of black smoke and smog. He lay still, the seconds ticking by as his memories returned to him one by one. A frown formed on his lips.

“Ah yes,” he slurred.

Still dazed, Solaire placed his hand upon his stomach, fingers tracing for that mortal wound that so recently killed him. He found the patch of tender scar tissue just below his lower left rib, grimacing when he realized the hole had been the size of his palm.

With a groan, he slapped his hands over his face and began arching his back upward, eliciting a series of loud cracks from his spine.

“Bothersome,” he said as he swung his legs over the side of the slab he had been lain upon. For a few moments he remained seated there, taking in the sights of the empty room. Directly in front of him and not even ten strides away was a closed wooden door, placed there as if daring him to leave.

Solaire sighed, looking down at his current state. His chainmail and tunic were missing, and his sword was nowhere to be seen. He patted at his waist to find that his sheath, pouches and bags were gone as well. Only after he ran a hand through his hair did he realize that his helmet was not where it should have been.

“Robbed blind,” he said, rising to his feet. “At least they had the decency to leave my pants in place.”

Solaire paused. There was a feeling in the air, a sense of unease clawing at the back of his mind. He centered his mass and did a slow turn, his gaze instantly meeting those of the four ponies in the back of the room.

They stood in a tight cluster, the largest of the group taking the front in an obvious protective gesture. She spread her white wings wide, a scowl on her face. The dark blue pony stood just to the white one’s left and as Solaire met her widening eyes, he couldn’t help but feel that he had forgotten something important.

Solaire shook his head before focusing again.

Behind the two winged ponies was a grey-coated, thickset stallion clad in gleaming gold armor. The furrow in his brow and the frown on his lips bespoke plenty of the lengths he would go to to protect the trembling purple pony pressed against his side.

“Solaire?” said the blue pony. Her voice was fragile. Uncertain.

Familiar.

“I feel like I should know you,” Solaire said. “I’m sorry… everything is a haze.”

He looked to his feet, concentrating on his memories. After a moment Solaire smiled softly to himself.

“I remember now—you’re one of the two that tried to save me. Your name is Luna and the other was named Rarity, but… she is not here.”

He looked up.

“She wept for me, didn’t she?”

Luna gave a stiff nod.

“I’m sorry,” Solaire said. “My circumstances, if I had tried to myself explain right then and there, I’m afraid I would have never finished. The most I give was—”

“A promise,” Luna said, “that you would speak with her again.”

“And here I am. A knight never goes back on his word.”

A strange silence filled the room. He raised a hand in front of his face, his gaze taking in the dried flesh and desiccated skin. With a sigh, he let his arm fall to his side.

“Does my appearance frighten you?” Solaire asked them. “Oh, how I must look to you all—you must think me a monster and rightfully so! I’m ashamed that I have allowed myself to be seen in such a state.”

The ponies said nothing.

“A travesty,” Solaire finished, walking around the slab’s length before sitting down on as if it were a bench. He rested his elbows on his knees before letting out another sigh.

“You must have a lot of questions,” he said, “a lot of fears. I can see it in all your eyes, you’ve never encountered anything quite like me before, have you?”

The white one with the pretty hair slowly shook her head.

Solaire let out a quiet chuckle.

“And I suppose it’s only natural that you know nothing of my curse, either.” He looked to each of them in turn. “It seems I have quite the story to tell.”

****

Twilight could hear her friends shifting uncomfortably in their seats. If they had taken Solaire’s story any better than she had, she couldn’t tell. Fluttershy shrunk behind her bangs, Pinkie Pie’s usual pep was gone, and Rainbow Dash just looked confused. And then there was Rarity, who hadn’t said a word since their meeting started. She had simply sat there, nodding along with wide eyes and giving a frayed smile whenever someone looked her way.

“Twilight?” Applejack’s voice.

Princess Celestia had chosen to assist with the debriefing of her friends, only adding small details when something had slipped the unicorn’s mind. She stood tall in the back of the room, the conference hall’s silent sentinel.

Twilight sighed. The mug of hot cocoa between her hooves had long since congealed into a lukewarm mess of brown water and granulated chocolate. She pushed the mug across the table, a vacant expression on her face.

“Hey,” Applejack said. “Is there anything else?”

Her voice seemed unnaturally loud.

“No,” Twilight said. “That’s… that’s it. That’s all he told us.”

Rainbow Dash scratched her head.

“So let me get this straight,” she said. “This Solaire guy, he’s a zombie, right? But he kills other zombies. I know that’s like a small part of it, Twi, but if I’m gonna be super-honest, that’s… that’s all I really got from your thing.”

Applejack scoffed.

“Girl, were you not payin’ any sort of attention? If you had made the tiniest bit of effort, I am absolutely sure that you’d have understood too.”

“Oh, and you get it then, AJ? Go ahead and tell us—in your own words—what Twilight just said.” Dash shrugged her shoulders, a frown on her face. “Only if you can, I guess. Don’t wanna strain your head too much, you know?”

Applejack sighed.

“I ain’t gonna go through the whole thing, you featherbrain, but I understood the gist.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so… so this Solaire fella. His world is dyin’—dyin’ not by like pollution or nothin’ but actual honest-to-goodness dyin’. The magic is gone, disappeared like a puddle in the middle of summer.”

She looked to Twilight and received a single nod.

“To make matters worse,” she continued, “some awful, awful curse started to spread somethin’ fierce. These folks realized that they could be killed… but they couldn’t die. And it got me thinkin’ some things. Endless cycle of pain and sufferin’ will drive anyone mad, and well, that’s the curse’s goal, isn’t it? Hate breeds hate, pain breeds pain—you see folks goin’ insane all around you, it... it takes a mighty strong mind not to join ‘em.”

Applejack turned to each of her friends.

“Solaire is one of these cursed folks, livin’ then dyin’, then livin’ again.”

“An undead,” Twilight finished. “And before that he was what he called ‘human’, but… but I guess that’s neither here nor there.”

Celestia cleared her throat.

“You bring up an interesting point, Applejack, something that I’ve actually been mulling over myself.” The princess nodded. “As I surmised from Solaire’s tale, the mortal mind of humans was not meant to endure eternity—he had seen the destruction firsthoof, that the crumbling of his civilization was the only outcome that could be met after the curse’s introduction into his society. But it’s just as you said… it seems the strong-willed individuals were able to endure. They survived, and that is what has disturbed me so.”

Celestia frowned. “Like smelting iron... the weakness must be burned away before a tool can be forged.”

Twilight’s brow lowered.

“His quest,” she murmured. “Are you saying that this curse is… is some sort of sick selective process? A methodic weeding out of the weak until only the strongest remain?”

“I’m not saying that for certain,” Celestia said. “This is merely speculation on my part, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“Rotten,” Applejack said. “That’s a rotten, rotten situation. Rotten to the very core, but if there’s nothin’ we can do, there’s nothin’ we can do.”

Before anyone else could comment, Rainbow Dash rapped her hoof against the table. She took a slow survey of her friends, a determination burning behind her eyes.

“Who the hay are we?” she began. “We’re the Element Bearers, so why don’t we just zap the curse right out of him? He’ll be cured and he can just live right here in the castle.”

Twilight shook her head.

“We can’t and… and he won’t. The curse isn’t something that can just be removed. It’s like a battery, Dash—if you take it out, then the toy stops working. If the Elements even succeed in removing the curse, then we’ll have essentially murdered somebody, I… I can’t do that.” Twilight breathed in deep. “We actually talked with Solaire about this and he immediately refused. Cursed or not, he... he chooses not to stay.”

Silence fell over the conference hall.

Fluttershy sniffed.

“I don’t get it,” she whispered. “Why does he choose to suffer? Why choose that over… over this?”

“He tried to explain it to us,” Celestia said. “It’s the nature of his curse—he believes that his quest has become such an integral part of who he is, that if he were to give up on it right now, he would also be giving up on his very being. He would lose his mind in a matter of days.”

“It’s a process he called ‘hollowing’,” Twilight intoned. “A complete and utter emptiness of self. All that would remain is a walking husk, a… a monster.”

Rainbow Dash nodded slowly.

“So he has to fight,” she said. “Fight or go insane.”

“Rotten,” Applejack repeated.

Fluttershy laid her head down upon the table with a whimper, to which Pinkie quietly left her seat to scoop the pegasus up into a small hug. Rainbow Dash gritted her teeth as if that was all she could do, and Applejack simply shook her head.

Twilight bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how long her friends would have remained like that had a small voice not broken the silence.

“His quest,” Rarity whispered, “is there truly nothing we can do?”

Everyone turned toward the white unicorn but Twilight spoke first.

“I-I don’t know, Rarity. All we know is what Solaire told us, and well... I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it myself.”

Rarity shut her eyes for a brief moment. “Twilight, please, there must be something. Can you explain it again?”

“Okay, well, let… let me see.” Twilight bit her lip. “Around the time things started getting bad, a prophecy of some sort began to circulate through the kingdoms. It stated that if an undead were to… make pilgrimage to this land of the ancient lords—”

“Lordran,” Rarity said.

“Y-yeah.” Twilight cleared her throat. “If he were to make that pilgrimage, then he’d understand his purpose... or something. He wasn’t really forthcoming on that front.”

No one noticed Celestia’s wings tightening.

“Maybe he still doesn’t know,” Fluttershy said.

“All he does know is that he can’t stay here,” Rarity murmured.

Applejack breathed out a heavy sigh.

“Now this Lordran place,” she began. “What exactly is it? A land could be a small forest, an island, or an entire country, Twi. And who are these ‘lords’ anyway and why on earth do these undead fellas feel compelled to go to their land?”

Twilight furrowed her brow, frowning.

“Well,” she said, “He described Lordran as a far, faraway city, and its walls are so high and the surrounding terrain so treacherous that an uncursed individual would never survive the journey. Now these lords—from what I could tell—were essentially gods. They ruled over the humans for thousands of years until, well…”

“The curse,” said Applejack.

Twilight nodded.

“As for why they’re making the pilgrimage… I-I’m sorry, Applejack, I can’t really say. If I knew, I’d tell you, but… but I think it’s about hope, really. If there was a prophecy—if there was even the smallest chance that you could set things right—wouldn’t you take it?” Twilight paused. “As for what this prophecy entails, as said before, he wasn’t exactly clear.”

In that moment, Celestia stepped forward, a blank expression on her face.

“He was clear enough.” Celestia’s horn took light and from beneath her golden torque she levitated out a darkened leather pouch. She placed it at the head of the table for all to see.

“That’s Solaire’s,” Twilight said. “He gave it to you?”

Celestia nodded slowly.

Twilight swallowed.

“What is it?”

“I dare not open it again,” Celestia said. “All it took for me to understand was one peek, I… I dare not open it again.”

All eyes were on the pouch.

“Inside is something he called a Lordsoul,” the princess continued, “and it’s exactly as the name implies. There’s a reason Solaire was not forthcoming with his information. This prophecy, it is the path he walks—it is the fate he has chosen, and it is sole reason why I agreed with his decision to not remain here in our world.”

Celestia tapped her hoof against the floor.

“At its very heart, his quest involves the systematic killing of his gods, and he will go insane if he does not follow through. I cannot allow a potentially dangerous individual free reign in Equestria. In two days time, Solaire will depart the way he came, taking with him all his belongings and gear. Afterward, using the Elements of Harmony, we will extinguish the flame that has allowed him access, effectively severing our world from his.”

Celestia nodded again, slowly, softly.

“I hope you understand, but the security of us all takes precedent over his individual needs. Aside from granting him a few days of peace, there is very little we can do to help him.” She breathed in deep. “As for now, this meeting is adjourned.”

****

Solaire looked down at the tattered remains of his equipment. His tunic, his chainmail and underlying jerkin; they had all been sliced down the very center with a startling amount of precision. He sighed, plucking up a small metal link that had fallen loose from his armor.

Destroyed.

His helmet and sword lay on the far end of the table, thankfully in one piece. He was about to continue his inspection when a voice rang clear through the chamber.

“I must apologize for your gear,” Luna said. “In my excitement, perhaps I was a little too hasty in their removal.”

Solaire turned around, letting the small link fall to the floor. Luna stood in the far corner of the room, her face a stone mask.

“You never left,” Solaire murmured. “Did you not want to join your sister and Miss Sparkle in their, ah… debriefing?”

Luna shook her head.

“I would not be wanted there,” she said quietly. “Besides, I thought you might have liked someone to speak with.”

“We have been for the last two hours.”

“No,” Luna said, “that wasn’t a conversation. That was a cold recital of fact, a painful reopening of your past. I’ve remained behind so that you might feel, ah... human again.”

“I’ve never stopped,” Solaire said.

“You wear a brave face,” she said, frowning. “Is that how it must always be for you undead? Do you fear that even the smallest amount of weakness will rob you of your sanity?”

Solaire sighed.

“I am intimately aware of the fragility surrounding my situation.” He focused his gaze. “Why are you really here, Princess Luna?”

She took a moment to respond.

“Because you are alone,” Luna said. “Alone in this room, alone in your mind. Alone in undeath. I know well enough what you must be going through.”

Solaire studied her face.

“How could you possibly understand?” he whispered.

“Because,” Luna said, “I’ve been watching you for the past thirty minutes, at how you have been gawking at that table as if you were stricken by a never-ending series of profound thoughts.”

Luna scoffed, her brows lowering.

“Do not assume that just because I am princess, I have never once experienced suffering. I have seen that vacant stare you wear, it’s a look I’m very much acquainted with.” She started forward on silent hooves. “Just as you do… just as that woman from your dream, I understand a thing or two about nightmares.”

Solaire stiffened.

“You saw that, did you?”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t call it a dream,” Luna said, smiling. “I’ve traversed enough minds to know the difference between dreams and memories—they taste different.”

She was at the slab now, poking at its surface with an errant hoof.

“Did that woman ever find her name?”

Solaire couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“That was Adria.”

Luna looked up, the realization dawning on her face. She opened her mouth, closed it, and tried once more.

“Oh,” was all she got out.

Solaire sighed, turning around to busy himself with the remnants of his gear. He could hear Luna making her approach.

“You needn’t pretend that her betrayal isn’t affecting you, Solaire.” A pause. “What she did was unforgivable and you should treat it as such.”

The knight looked to his sword but he had not the will to pick it up.

“You cleaned the blade,” Solaire stated.

“Not I,” Luna said. “‘Twas Twilight Sparkle who wiped it clean. Is that a problem for you?”

Solaire shook his head.

“There’s not a trace of her blood... Adria’s, I mean. Even though I knew she would awaken, I could still feel a small part of myself die along with her.” He inhaled for the sake of breathing. “She didn’t make a sound when I ran her through.”

“From the way you told it, she’d have killed you otherwise,” Luna said.

“She did kill me,” Solaire said, “but only after I escaped into a completely different world.”

He chuckled.

“It’s rather strange how things turn out in the end.”

Luna approached, stopping just to Solaire’s right. Through the corner of his vision, he silently measured her up, judging that the top of her head barely met his chest. Solaire looked away.

Luna levitated his helmet from the table.

“I’d imagined that you would have a corpsey stench considering that your skin turned into a lovely shade of rot after you revived.” She leaned forward, peering into the helmet’s bottom. “Surprisingly, you smell of nothing.”

“A testament to my unnatural state,” Solaire said. “The curse has robbed me of many things, it seems, and now I can include ‘smell’ on that list.”

Luna raised the helmet above her head and for a moment Solaire thought she was going to attempt to wear it. At the last second, she frowned and gently placed it back onto the table.

“Like your eyes,” she said offhandedly, shooting him a glance. “How do you see, might I ask? I’m quite curious—is there a difference in how you perceive things now that you have nothing to see with?”

Solaire shrugged his shoulders.

“No different than before. My lack of eyes hasn’t altered my vision in any way.” He reached toward his face and padded at the empty sockets with a thumb. “To be honest, Princess, I haven’t given it much thought. Does it frighten you?”

“Earlier, yes,” Luna said. “I thought you an abomination that had clawed its way into our world.”

“And now?”

Solaire watched as Luna turned away from the table and started a slow canter toward the center of the chamber.

“What I think about you now?” She looked back at him, smiling. “I think you have a guest.”

Before Solaire could open his mouth, two swift knocks rang out from the wooden door on the opposite end of the room. Luna’s smile widened as her horn took light, and with a burst of magic she pulled the door open, revealing a familiar purple shape.

Twilight Sparkle stood just beyond the doorway, a hoof held up to her face as if to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness. Squinting, she crossed the boundary, her gaze flicking about until it finally settled on the princess standing in the center of the room.

“Twilight,” Luna said.

“Princess Luna, I… I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Twilight continued her slow approach. “Were you with Solaire the entire time?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Oh,” Twilight said, finally looking in the knight’s direction.

Solaire nodded, his hands coming together to form a loose clasp in front his waist. He had learned quickly to not make any sudden, suspicious movements around the smaller ponies.

“It’s wonderful to see you again so soon, Miss Sparkle,” Solaire said. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“O-oh, nothing at all!” Twilight stammered. “Princess Celestia asked me to return something of yours, and to, well… assist you with your request.”

Only when Solaire looked closer did he notice the familiar darkened leather pouch laced around Twilight’s neck. Horn glowing, she undid the knot and laid it down upon the slab.

“She says ‘thanks’ for letting her look at it.”

“And I will have to thank her for returning it to me so promptly,” Solaire said. He turned toward Luna. “Will you be staying here? As you know, my request, it’s—”

Luna shook her head.

“Sadly, I have duties elsewhere,” she said, already starting towards the door. “If you ever desire another chat, come find me.”

Luna entered the storage cabinet, turning around to face Solaire one final time.

“I’m never far, and thusly you’re never alone. For your sake, Sir Knight, do not forget that.”

The door closed shut and just like that, Luna was gone, leaving behind only silence in her wake. Solaire watched as Twilight shifted on her hooves, looking to the floor as if she had no idea where to place her eyes.

Solaire cleared his throat.

Twilight bit her lip.

“The princess,” he began, if only to break the silence. “She’s not close with you, is she?”

“W-why do you say that?”

“Because she’s not close with anybody,” Solaire said. He leaned back against the table behind him, half-seated as he crossed his arms. “Perhaps her sister, but that was not always the case, was it?”

Twilight’s eyes widened.

“She told you?”

“Nothing definite,” Solaire said with a shrug. “Only after we spoke did I realize the walls she wears when she is around either of you—watching her words and dancing around topics as if they might burn her if she were to draw too close.”

Solaire sighed, pulling away from the table and started toward the slab in the center of the chamber. In three strides he closed the distance, plucking the pouch by its strings and quickly knotting it to the back of his belt.

He turned toward Twilight who was standing at the head of the slab, a nervous air surrounding her.

“Your friends know of my quest then,” Solaire affirmed. “Know of the Lordsoul, of my curse, and why I cannot stay here.”

“Yes,” Twilight said.

“You six are considered heroes who wield an immense power. Did one amongst you offer to use this strength against me, to destroy the curse that keeps me shackled to the mortal world?”

“Of course,” Twilight said.

Solaire chuckled.

“Any other undead would have accepted your offer.”

Twilight opened her mouth but no sound came out. She glanced to the back of the room several times, eyes widening slightly before she started toward the table placed there. There came a familiar hum of magic, and Solaire—unable to deny his curiosity any longer—turned around.

Twilight Sparkle, horn alight, levitated his tunic and chainmail up against the wall, the armor shining and wholesome as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. The unicorn smiled.

“You never told us you know repair magic,” Twilight said.

Solaire, shaking his head, couldn’t help but smile as well.

“‘Twasn’t me who fixed them.”

Somewhere, Princess Luna was walking with a slight bounce in her step.

****

Solaire, Twilight quickly realized, was by no means a quiet traveller. His heavy footfalls had boomed through the castle halls and like a walking windchime, his chainmail was an endless source of sound. Twilight breathed out a sigh of relief when they had finally made it outdoors. In the sky, the moon was almost complete with its circuit and the barest hint of a pale pink could just be seen on the opposite end of the horizon.

“Are you not afraid that someone might see me?” Solaire whispered in a muffled voice. He had insisted on wearing his helmet if only to disguise his rotted state.

“Only guards should be out here at this time,” Twilight said, “and very few at that. If one of them did stumble across us, however, it’s not like I’d let them slap you in cuffs and cart you away to some dungeon. They know who I am—they trust me, and that means they should trust you too.”

Twilight glanced back at him.

“You’re a guest here… they just haven’t been informed of your arrival, so to speak.”

“Reassuring,” Solaire said.

Twilight turned her attention back to the cobblestone path. So much had happened—it seemed so long ago the last time she had made this walk. In the distance, behind a wall of white stone loomed Celestia’s tower, a pillar in the night. Twilight sighed, slowing her steps until they were walking side by side. The human matched her pace without a word, the seconds dragging into an uncomfortable silence.

“You’ve really taken all this in stride,” Twilight said, “being flung into a new world.”

“I tend to not let things bother me, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight’s lips formed a grin line.

“Even still,” she whispered. “Your situation, your curse, I… I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.”

When Solaire said nothing in return, Twilight feared that she might have offended the knight. She could feel his gaze boring into the side of her head but in the following moment, his chuckle—a laugh like peach soda—rang through the garden.

He stymied his laugh with a soft ‘Oh’.

“Miss Sparkle, when you have seen the things I’ve seen, you’ll realize that nothing will ever shock, frighten, or scare you ever again. Trust me, talking ponies is a welcome reprieve.”

Twilight smiled, partly at the words, partly at the gentle tone he always seemed to speak in.

“What about me?” Solaire asked her. “Surely I’m not the strangest thing you’ve encountered.”

Twilight paused.

“Top three,” she said. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had just bumped ‘monster caterpillar invasion’ from the top spot.

They continued on in silence and it wasn’t long after that the pair arrived at the twin filigree gates outside of Celestia’s tower. Twilight peered past the swirling cast iron bars, nodding to herself before she pushed the gate open with a bloom of magic. As the pair entered the garden, Twilight found herself looking to the left where a small smattering of guards milled about underneath a large, familiar tree, picking up stray branches and packing them into cloth sacks.

Twilight paused when one of the soldiers looked their way. The stallion dropped his bag into the grass and trotted over on heavy hooves, his identity becoming more apparent the closer he drew.

Captain Rook came to a stop a few paces away, glancing up at Solaire before looking to Twilight once more.

“No one’s harassed you on the way here, I gather? I had this quadrant cleared of nonessentials an hour ago as instructed.”

“Not a pony in sight,” Twilight said, nodding. She looked over Rook’s shoulder to where the two remaining guards continued their work.

Rook frowned, raising a hoof.

“They’re with me,” he said, “and don’t worry—they realize that when a superior asks them to do a job that a servant or gardener could easily do, they know not to ask too many questions. Follow me.”

The captain stepped onto the path and started forward, guiding the pair close to the base of the tower. The path curved to the right, following the structure’s curvature until the strange group of guard, student and knight reached the tower entrance on the opposite end of the garden. Rook produced a large key and inserted it into the door’s frame, giving it a twist.

There came a series of mechanized clicks, a few seconds passing before the door creaked open of its own volition, allowing entry into the tower. Twilight could already see the wall-mounted sconces within burning with a warm glow.

“Impressive,” Solaire said. “Is this where Princess Celestia lives?”

Twilight shook her head. “Not exactly.”

Rook stepped to the side.

“Princess Celestia’s personal office is on the top floor. She receives all her private correspondence there, often asking not to be bothered as she looks through the letters that had accumulated over the week.” Captain Rook cleared his throat. “As for your question, Solaire, it is as Miss Twilight says—there is a small parlor in the tower but the princess chooses not to sleep there most nights. That is where you will be staying.”

Twilight found herself nodding along with the human.

“Thank you for your help, Captain. You must be busy with everything that’s happened. I’m sure we can find our way from here.”

“Of course,” Rook said, snapping a smart salute. “I live to serve.”

The pair watched him leave, the captain following the same path back to the front of the garden. He rounded a far-off corner and disappeared from sight.

Twilight turned to Solaire, a smile on her face.

“To the top then!”

Sunlight Straight Sword

"This standard longsword, belonging to Solaire of Astora, is of high quality, is well-forged, and has been kept in good repair. Easy-to-use and dependable, but unlikely to live up to its grandiose name."

The woman awoke with a pained gasp, her hands a blur as they padded at her chest. She found the puncture in her armor immediately, a thin vertical slit just below the sternum, the surrounding area still caked with blood. After a few breathless moments, she sighed, raising her arms high above her prone form. As the sleeves of her jacket rolled back, the corpserot that was her skin was slowly revealed.

“You’re lucky that I’m the one that found you,” said a voice.

The woman sat up immediately, body tensing as her gaze found the figure standing in the cellar’s dark corner. Her hand was already gripping the sword strapped to her waist.

“Calm yourself, lady,” came the voice once more. He sounded as if his throat were crammed with razorblades. “As you might have noticed, you still have all your belongings. If I wanted to do you harm, I would have stripped your corpse of everything you owned and left you as naked as the day you were born.”

The black mass shifted as a harsh grating of a laugh rumbled through the room.

“Now if you still wish to fight me,” he said, “I’m not opposed to that either. It has truly been a while since I’ve murdered someone.”

The woman nodded slowly. “You have thirty seconds. What is it that you want?”

“To extend to you an offer,” said the dark figure. “I’ve been following you for weeks, waiting, biding my time for the right moment to strike. But have no fear, it’s not you who I was after, no… but rather the man you travelled with.”

“Solaire,” she whispered.

“Indeed,” said the figure. “When I saw you slain in that tomb, I knew that he had betrayed you as well. That man prattles on and on about being a righteous beam of light in this black hellscape of a land, but he’s no different than the rest of us. He’s a hunter, a killer, a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing and he will stop at nothing until he gets his way.”

A pause.

“He’s even killed you.”

Silence filled the cellar.

“What are you proposing?” said the woman.

The figure took a single step forward, a ray of dusty light illuminating the rusted bands of metal that covered his leg.

“A union of sorts,” he said. “We both share similar interests, don’t we? Solaire has something you want, and I want Solaire’s head on a plate—it would be foolish if we didn’t combine our strength.”

“Strength means nothing if we don’t know where he is,” the woman said, “and besides that, he’s capable, defiant and absolutely believes in the cause he fights for. Solaire is not one to hollow easily.”

Another step. The figure’s black armor appeared to be covered by row upon row of sharp thistles.

“Just who do you think I am, lady? Knight Solaire fights for abstract concepts and philosophical stupidities. But me? I fight for something real, something tangible, something that I place above all else—” he jabbed a thumb into his chestplate, “—I fight for myself, and whether you know this already or not, we’re all monsters on the inside. The only difference between you and me is that I’ve willingly embraced the beast.”

Another step. Enormous pauldrons covered in massive spikes were mounted on his shoulders, and a full helm carpeted with those selfsame barbs concealed his face.

“Let me share with you a little secret of mine,” he said. “I can kill Solaire. I can kill him permanently.”

The woman could only sit and watch as the figure made his approach, her gaze wandering over the rusted blacks and browns of his plate armor. He stopped just out of reach and squatted down, his elbows resting on the tops of his knees.

“You’re a darkwraith,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he replied, “and as a darkwraith, I’m offering you this.”

Palm facing up, an armored gauntlet reached out. In one seamless motion, he made a fist and slowly unclenched, revealing a tiny sprite of black energy that floated in the center of his hand.

The woman stared at the soul, her lips forming a grim line.

“Why?” she asked.

“I Have plenty and it look like you need it more than I do.” He edged his hand closer. “If we’re to be working together, Miss, we should at least know each other’s names.”

For a long moment she stared into his helmet, her brow furrowing.

“Adria,” she finally said.

The darkwraith smiled a smile that no one else would ever see.

“And my name is Kirk, Knight of Thorns. Let’s take back what rightfully belongs to us, shall we?”

Author's Note

A heartfelt thanks to my friend and editor, Kitsunerisu.

Chapter Four - Creatures of Memory

For the past fifteen minutes, Twilight stood in the balcony doorway and watched Solaire as he gazed into the flame’s depths. The knight knelt unnaturally close to the fire, almost hunched over and unmoving as if he were made of stone.

Every so often he’d glance up toward the horizon, a few seconds passing before he’d slump down again, ever silent as he returned to his statuesque state.

With all the initial excitement finally ebbed out of her system, Twilight found herself with the clearest mind she’d had in hours. She breathed out a sigh, her eyes focusing on the strange figure kneeling in the center of the balcony.

Even after his body had been reduced to dried flesh and decayed skin, Solaire’s strength was still apparent. With only a slight twitch of his shoulders that considerable pack of muscle would shift as well, bulging out from beneath chainmail and tunic. His legs, gripped tight by rugged leather and matching mail, were twin pillars of power and fortitude, and his helmet, catching the flame’s orange glow, was the perfect representation of his unflappable nature.

Solaire’s was a sturdy body.

A cruel body.

A body that has both seen and dealt death.

And he had asked if she would stay with him and watch the sunrise.

There atop that tower in Canterlot, Twilight could only smile.

Like paint spilling across a canvas, the pinks and yellows of the morning sun flowed across the sky, beating back the dark blues and wiping away the small spots of stars. Just beyond the eastern mountains, beams of light had started breaking through and draping itself across the land, lending Equestria the color she had lost the evening before. The emerald forests, the lime-green valleys and the snow-topped peaks, they were all brought back to life in the morning’s glow.

Twilight hadn’t noticed when Solaire moved away from the fire. He stood at the balcony’s edge, his back towards her as he gazed at that one singular spot on the horizon. As quietly as she could, Twilight started forward and stopped at the railing some distance to Solaire’s left.

The knight hummed a thoughtful sound. “Do you normally greet the new day in this manner, Miss Sparkle?”

“Not really,” she said with a shrug. “By the time I wake up, the sun’s already risen. My friends say that I’m a night owl which is... actually pretty accurate now that I think about it.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Solaire shifting on his feet.

“An owl?” he asked.

“Nevermind," said Twilight. “It’s a figure of speech—I don’t fall asleep until it’s really late.”

“Oh," was all he said.

They remained silent for the next minute, neither of the two saying a word. Twilight watched him through a sidelong glance, the knight remaining completely still as he stared straight ahead.

His withered hands tightened on the railing.

“I’m sorry,” Solaire said. “My being here seems to be an inconvenience for everyone involved. Perhaps I should leave now and just—”

Twilight tapped her hoof on the floor. “Wait, hold on. Princess Celestia asked you to stay at least for a little while, right? If you were really an inconvenience, why would she give you these two days of rest?”

“Because the princess is not a black-hearted beast, Miss Sparkle. What she has extended to me here is a kindness that I will never forget, but even that has its limits. If you’ll recall, she didn’t say a word when you broached the topic of me staying here for good, did she?”

“Because you immediately refused,” Twilight said. “How could you know that she wouldn’t have turned you down if you had already said no?”

Solaire sighed, his head tilting upward. On impulse, Twilight’s gaze flew upward to the patch of decayed skin that covered his throat. She looked away.

“Answer me this, Miss Sparkle. Do you think the princess is sending me away out of malice? Do you think she has been especially cruel in her dealings with me?” He glanced her way. “Do you think that Princess Celestia is wrong?”

“No,” she whispered. “In the end, it’s the right decision for Equestria.”

Solaire nodded. “And that is why I must go.”

“But for you, it’s—”

“Also the right decision. I simply took the choice, the responsibility, onto myself. I don’t need to challenge your morals to know that you are all good people. Offering me this—just these two days—is enough proof of that.”

Twilight swallowed away the lump in her throat. “You’re not an inconvenience, Solaire...”

“Oh really?” he said with a chuckle. “Then when’s the last time you slept?”

The question caught her off guard. Twilight chewed at her lip, fumbling for a response.

“Well, I managed a quick nap on the train, and—”

“And how long ago was that?”

She winced. “Yesterday morning…”

“An inconvenience, Miss Sparkle.” Sighing, he pushed away from the railing and started toward the flame, its orange glow drowned out by the light of morning. He looked in her direction. “What happens now? Am I to remain in the tower until the time comes for my departure?”

Twilight’s mouth dropped open.

“N-not at all! We’ve actually prepared a suitable, if somewhat temporary solution to your sudden appearance.”

“Oh?”

“If anypony asks, you’re a foreign diplomat from the far, faraway land of Karkaryon, a small cluster of islands found some fifty miles off the Minocretian coast.” Twilight smiled. “I read that it’s quite beautiful there this time of year.”

Solaire’s muffled voice came out quieter than usual.

“And ponies are likely to believe this story…?”

“Oh, sure,” Twilight said, her smile widening.

“And what of the actual Karkaryans? I don’t feel comfortable posing as one of their diplomats.”

Twilight couldn’t stifle it any longer. She held a hoof to her mouth as a stream of giggles broke free.

“Oh gosh,” she began, full of mirth. “Karkaryon doesn’t actually exist, and well, considering that a long-lost empire just suddenly appeared in our backyard a little over two months ago, I don’t think anypony’s gonna question the validity of your tale, let alone find a map to verify it. You’ll be in the presence of the princesses—that should be enough for them.”

Twilight could almost hear the frown in his voice.

“Why the deceit though, Miss Sparkle? Wouldn’t it be simpler if I were to tell the truth?”

“Ah, about that...” The unicorn shook her head. “Simpler isn’t always the best, I’ve discovered. Our fabrication is much easier to swallow than saying outright that you’re an interdimensional warrior who somehow pierced the veil between our worlds. Not to mention that beneath all that armor, you’re a walking cadaver. Yeah, that definitely won’t translate well with aristocratic types.”

Solaire nodded slowly.

“I suppose I’m in no position to disagree with you—foreign diplomat it is.” He clasped his hands together. “What happens next?”

Twilight glanced up and down his tall form.

“Well, Princess Celestia and my friends are about to have breakfast. You’re invited of course, but earlier, you ah…” her gaze was drawn to the rotted state of his exposed hands, “... you said that you could repair your body.”

There came another nod from the knight. Through the slits of his helmet, Twilight could feel his gaze boring into her own, the seconds whittling by in an uncomfortable silence.

She bit her lip. “Um—”

A single gesture from Solaire stopped whatever else Twilight had to say. He let his raised hand linger there for a moment longer before he reached up with both and grasped at the base of his helmet. Slowly, he lifted the polished steel from his head and looked down to the floor as strands of matted brown hair spilled out to conceal his face.

Twilight knew it was coming—she had spent the better part of two hours in the same room as him, and yet a gasp still forced its way out of her mouth when Solaire looked her way.

By all accounts, the face that stared back at her resembled that of a corpse. Patched and damaged, mottled brown skin clung tight to Solaire’s skull. His cheeks were sunken and gaunt, the underlying tendons shifting and pulling as his purpled lips formed a semblance of a frown. Where his eyes should have been there was simply nothing, the two pits remaining shadowed as if they were black holes that consumed all light.

Twilight’s heart pulsed an odd rhythm inside her chest. If she were able to move, Twilight was sure that she’d have taken a step backward to cower away from those unseeing pits. Thankfully, her legs refused to work and Solaire—completely still—made no motion that he had noticed her fear.

But Twilight was sure that he knew.

Without a word, Solaire lowered himself onto a knee beside the flame. One hand he placed upon his chest and with the other he formed a fist in front of his face. He held that pose for all of two seconds before he slowly unclenched his hand.

Twilight’s eyes widened.

There, floating in the center of Solaire’s palm was a quivering mass of dark energy. The black sprite swayed about in an otherworldly breeze, its small elliptical shape bending and twisting as if it desired to be set free.

“W-what is that?”

The knight didn’t look in her direction. “It’s a disease, Miss Sparkle, a hungering sickness that threatens to choke away my sanity. Stand back.”

Before Twilight could say anything else, Solaire balled his hand into a fist once more, trapping the black sprite between his fingers. As if it were a ritual, he slowly extended his fist over the fire, the gentle ribbons of orange light licking at the back of his hand.

If Twilight blinked, she was sure that she would have missed it. The effects were instantaneous—In a wave, the dead skin covering Solaire’s hand regained its bronzed color. The once-discernible bones in his fingers were concealed as his flesh plumped back to its natural state, and beneath his armor, Twilight saw that the rest of his body was being healed as well. Fitted chainmail bulked outward, his tunic stretched and as Solaire rose once more to his full height, Twilight found herself focusing on the knight’s restored face.

“Solaire,” she whispered.

He raised a brow. “Is something the matter?”

“Y-you’re… you’re alive.”

He grinned. “Not quite, Miss Sparkle. Close, but not quite.”

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 4 - Creatures of Memory

Solaire, Twilight realized, was a man of many smiles. There was the gentle one he wore when answering Fluttershy’s questions, the giant grin that accompanied his sweeping arms in the midst of a particularly exciting tale, and then there was the reserved smile; the small, peaceful one that formed on his lips after the food arrived and when the conversation had long faded to the tinny sounds of silverware tapping against plate.

Twilight looked up from her half-eaten waffle. At the head of the dining table sat Princess Celestia, a quiet air surrounding her. To anyone who didn’t know her well, Celestia was acting no different than normal—she laughed when she was supposed to laugh, appeared startled when necessary and inquired further when the conversation demanded it of her, but Twilight knew something wasn’t quite right. When Celestia smiled, it was soft, fragile as if it might break any moment, and her wandering eyes lingered on things a half-second longer than necessary.

Twilight bit at the inside of her lip. On the opposite side of the table and to the princess’ left sat Solaire, ever silent as her friends cleared the remaining food from their plates. He had left his armor in the tower’s parlor, shedding the chainmail and overlying tabard in favor for the leather jerkin he wore underneath.

She didn’t have the heart to ask him if it was synthetic.

Twilight breathed out a sigh, turning her attention back to the lonely waffle in front of her. It had long since absorbed all the syrup and had transformed into soggy mess of soft, saccharine pastry. A frown formed on her lips.

“Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight snapped to attention. From across the table, Solaire stared back at her, his gaze roaming across the features of her face. At once, his eyes focused on hers.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine,” Twilight said. “Just a little tired. Worn out, I guess.”

To Solaire’s left and on the other side of Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash dropped her spoon into a bowl of milk.

“Nothing wrong with waking up a little early,” the pegasus said through a mouthful of cereal. “Hey, did you know it’s better to work out at dawn than at night? I mean, just look at Applejack. She wakes up at like what, three in the morning to kick trees and she’s super-buff!”

Applejack shook her head, taking a moment to swallow her food. “That ain’t trainin’, hon. That’s life on the farm, and just to clarify for y’all… I wake up at five. Four thirty on a good day.”

Twilight gave a morose nod. “Yeah, I could never do that.”

“Early to bed, early to rise,” Applejack said. “You didn’t get a single wink, did’ya? Not after…”

She looked to Solaire.

“...all this.”

“I’ll manage,” said Twilight with a sigh. She looked to each of her friends. “While we’re all here, I guess I should ask what everypony’s got planned today—with the arrival of our guest, there’s bound to be some changes. Pinkie Pie? Rainbow Dash? Are you two still scheduled for lunch at Donut Joe’s?”

The spot of powdered sugar on the tip of Pinkie’s nose disappeared as she gave her head a vigorous shake.

“Noperooni, Twilight! There’s too much to do, too much to plan and so little time! If I’m gonna throw the bestest ‘Welcome to Our Side of the Universe’ party, then I’m gonna need my full, undivided attention! It’s a tall order... maybe too tall.”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight turned to the pegasus. “What about you, Rainbow Dash?”

“Pinkie’s where the fun is so that’s where you’ll find me,” she said with a shrug. “Hey, but what about you, Twi? Didn’t you have that egghead thing at the museum that you’ve literally been waiting months to go to? Don’t tell me you’re gonna sweep that under the rug.”

Twilight was painfully aware of Solaire’s deepening gaze.

“They’ll be back next year,” she said quietly. “Solaire only has two days in Equestria. The least I could do—what anypony could do—is to make him feel welcome.”

She turned to the pony sitting on her right. “Applejack, what about you? Do you have anything planned?”

Applejack breathed in deep and let it all out in one slow exhale.

“Listen, Twi... besides hangin’ out with you girls, there’s only one reason I’m here and that’s the gala. Now that don’t mean I’m opposed to goin’ places, not at all—if you asked me to go to that museum deal with ya, sure. If Fluttershy asked me to be her second on her trip to the zoo, no problem. But after all that’s happened, after all this strange business, I—” she glanced toward Solaire once more, “—I don’t know.”

A single “Oh,” was all Twilight could muster. She searched across her friend’s face, looking for an answer to the question that burned on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed away the dryness in her throat. “W-well, maybe you’d like to join me in giving Solaire a tour of the palace.”

Applejack sighed. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry, but—”

Like a ghost, Rarity rose from her seat. A dreadful silence draped itself across the dining hall as she looked to each of the ponies with a rigid mask of a face, and before anyone could utter a single word, Rarity turned away and started toward the twin doors at the far end of the room. She moved with a purpose—the fading sound of her hooves striking against tile only accentuated that fact. Rarity was already halfway to the doors before one of the seven found the strength to speak.

Fluttershy’s ears lay flat.

“Rarity?” she whispered.

Much too quiet.

The unicorn was at the exit now, just a small smudge of white against the bronze backdrop of the doors. A pearl-blue magic nudged them open and like a leaf carried away by a stiff breeze, Rarity was gone.

Only silence remained. Pinkie and Rainbow Dash shared a look. Applejack frowned, and Fluttershy sat completely still. Twilight breathed in deep—directly in front of her, a war of emotion raged across Solaire’s face. His smile was gone and he stared at nothing, his vacant eyes glued to a single spot on the wall behind her.

Twilight could feel Celestia’s gaze on the side of her head.

Nopony needed to ask.

Without a word, Twilight rose from her seat and chased after her friend.

****

Rarity hadn’t gone far. As soon as Twilight pushed open the dining hall doors, her eyes were immediately drawn to Rarity’s white coat. She sat on a stone bench a fair distance away and stared down at her hooves, the furrow in her brow becoming much more apparent the closer Twilight drew. She always liked this hallway with its tall windows that streamed in sunlight and its pale blue banners that hung evenly spaced along the walls, but Twilight didn’t have time to stop and smile.

Not today.

Only when Twilight slowed her step a few paces away did Rarity finally look up.

“Just you?” Rarity asked in a small voice.

“Just me.” Twilight flicked her gaze to the small sliver of bench to Rarity’s right. “Can I…?”

Rarity sidled over, allowing Twilight a space to sit.

Just as quiet as she, Twilight gently lowered herself into place next to her friend. For a long moment they sat there, neither of them saying a word. Though their coats were barely a hair’s breadth apart, it felt as if there were a deep valley between them, complete with rickety wooden bridge and gale-force winds.

Before she could speak however, Rarity breathed out a quiet sigh, her gaze tilting up toward the ceiling.

“Twilight, have you ever lost anyone?”

A pause.

“I can’t say that I have, no.”

“Me neither,” Rarity said. “A cat when I was still a filly, but that… that doesn’t really count, does it?”

“I’m not the best pony to ask, Rarity. I never lost a pet, a family member. Anyone.” Twilight glanced toward her friend. “I don’t really know what this is about, but you wouldn’t have waited if you didn’t want to speak, so... I’m here I guess. To listen.”

A weak chuckle escaped from Rarity’s lips.

“Do you really not know?” She turned to the side, piercing blue eyes meeting hers. “It’s about you, Twilight.”

“W-what do you mean? Is this about my research? I—”

“Darling, I don’t even have the energy to address that, so please. This isn’t about soul magic or crystals or magic fires or...” She drew in a slow, staggered breath. “This is about you. This is about you, Twilight Sparkle, and how you are just allowing this to happen.”

Rarity pointed toward the dining hall doors.

Twilight swivelled her head, following her friend’s hoof.

“Solaire?” Twilight whispered, turning back. “Rarity, what are you saying? He doesn’t belong here; he said so himself. If the Elements were capable of safely removing his curse, then I’d be singing a different tune right now. But as it stands, his curse is dangerous, and he… he can’t stay.”

Rarity shut her eyes for the better part of five seconds before continuing again in a quiet tone.

“We have such wonderful friends, don’t we, Twilight? Pinkie Pie is throwing him a party and Fluttershy is, ah… she’s just being herself is she not? Those two... perhaps it’s just in their nature to be so kind and incredible without expecting anything in return.” Rarity paused, her mouth curling as if she were unsure whether she should smile or frown. She chose the latter. “What I’m trying to say, Twilight, is that they are doing what they can—what they are capable of.”

“Rarity, I—”

“Now answer me this… are you really doing all that you can? Is Princess Celestia’s student only capable of giving palace tours and acting as a glorified chauffeur?”

Her eyes burned with a sudden intensity.

“Twilight... are you, or are you not the Element of Magic? Are you or are you not the mare that has saved us time and time again?” Rarity’s throat bobbed up and down. “Prove to me that you are. Please.”

Twilight couldn’t say a thing. She struggled for a response, the right combination of words, anything that would fill the silence left in the wake of that barrage of questions. Her brow furrowed.

Sighing, Rarity stepped off the stone bench and started a slow canter into the center of the hall.

She looked over her shoulder. “Help him, Twilight. If there’s anypony who can, it’s you.”

Twilight opened her mouth only for it to close shut a second later. Rarity was already several paces away before she dared to try again. With a burst of energy, she stepped off the bench and took several steps after her friend.

“Wait,” Twilight called out. “Why do you care about him so much?”

Rarity paused mid-step and looked back toward Twilight with a single eye.

“What?”

“Why do you care?” Twilight repeated. “You think you can just say these things and leave without any sort of explanation? Answer me, Rarity—why do you care about him so much?”

Rarity’s shoulders shook. For a moment, Twilight thought she was going to storm off just as she always had when she became flustered, but that theory quickly proved to be wrong. In a white haze, Rarity spun around to face her, strands of her mane tousled by the sudden movement. She took one step and then two, eyes wide as her mouth contorted into a bitter frown.

“He held my hoof as he lay dying, Twilight—is that reason enough? I could feel his life leaving him through the weakening of his grip. When his hand finally hit the grass, I knew he was dead. I didn’t have to prod his body or whisper his name, I just knew.” Rarity drew in a shuddering breath. “And now someone who I saw die is just laughing and… eating in the other room because of a curse that I cannot even begin to understand. Do you see, Twilight? Solaire may be able to just shrug it off, but that does not mean that we should too! If he leaves now, what will change for him? What does that say about us?”

Twilight could feel an ache building behind her eyes. She raised a hoof.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little unreasonable? We asked him to stay, and he said no. We offered to use the Elements to end his curse and he said no. What else do you expect me to do, Rarity, say that he can’t leave? Are we going to hold him prisoner in the tower? Are you going to stand guard outside his door for the next fifty years?” Twilight scoffed, shaking her head. “Listen to what you’re saying… you care more about what happens to him than he does himself.”

Rarity glowered back at her.

“I care, Twilight Sparkle... because you obviously do not. Is all this just some sort of experiment to you? Maybe I can forgive you for fiddling about with your own soul, but not Solaire’s, no.”

There was a quaver in her voice now, a slight tremble that bespoke her fear. “Would you set loose an injured bird just because it desired to be set free? There’s kindness and then there’s cruelty, Twilight—why are you so keen on letting him leave?”

“Because that’s what he wants, Rarity! He can take care of himself, and he’s definitely not an injured bird that needs looking after!”

Twilight’s voice echoed through the hall. Only when she saw that Rarity had shrank away from her outburst did she realize how loud she had yelled.

She swallowed away the scratchiness in her throat.

“Rarity, I—”

“No, you’re right, Twilight… he can take care of himself. It’s just that I’m scared and confused, and I… I don’t know what to think. Ever since your lecture, my brain has been a jumble of nonsense. I can’t focus, I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry, and I’m angry. Angry at myself because I feel angry in the first place. Does that make sense?” Rarity shut her eyes, a pained look crossing her face. “Is it wrong for a pony to care? Am I in the wrong for worrying about him? I… I don’t know.”

Rarity breathed in deep.

“You’re right, Twilight. You’re right about many things, but I know that you are wrong about this.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”

Twilight could only watch as Rarity turned to leave. She had taken only a few steps before Twilight reached out a single hoof.

“Wait,” she whispered. “Where are you going?”

Rarity didn’t turn around.

“I have dresses to finish.”

And in the span of a few blinks, Rarity disappeared around the corner, swallowed up by the walls of the castle.

Gone.

It was a long moment before Twilight found the strength to move. She turned on unsteady limbs and began the long trek back to the dining hall. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her eyelids. Fatigue shot down her legs with each step she took, and inside her chest, her heart continued to pound away its aching rhythm—her body’s way of telling her to get some sleep.

She pushed the thought away.

Her mind was a grey fog as she pulled open the dining hall doors with a burst of magic. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold into the massive room, her eyes focusing on the distant forms of her friends.

Celestia, Fluttershy and Applejack were still seated at the table, a somber air surrounding the trio as they carried on with their hushed conversation. Every so often, Applejack and Fluttershy would nod along with Celestia’s words. Judging by the expressions they wore, their discussion wasn’t exactly the most cheerful of subjects.

Twilight didn’t have to look long to spot the rest of their group. Far to the right and away from all the tables and chairs, Solaire’s tall form was immediately apparent, two brightly colored shapes that could only be Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash crowding near his feet. A very audible ‘no way!’ from the pegasus followed by a sugary laugh from Pinkie told Twilight that they were holding their own kind of conversation with the knight. Solaire, for his part, simply smiled and laughed along with them.

Twilight frowned. If she didn’t know any better, Solaire could easily have been a foreign actor or poet. A very foreign actor or poet, but the point still stood. Twilight didn’t need to hear his words to know the story he was telling. The vivid sweeping of his arms and the range of expressions that crossed his face could only be described as lively and animated. Eyes wide, he squatted down, coming face to face with the two ponies. His mouth whispered out slow, incomprehensible terrors, and in a flash, he jumped to his full height, clapping his hands high above his head.

After the startled gasps gave way to a fresh bout of giggles, Twilight took one final breath and started toward the table, her eyes focused on Celestia’s face. Only two seconds passed before the princess paused mid-sentence and looked up, their gazes finally meeting.

It wasn’t long after that both Applejack and Fluttershy were looking her way as well. The arch in Applejack’s brow and the frown on Fluttershy’s lips betrayed their concern, but they said not a word as Twilight found the way to her seat and dropped into the chair with an unceremonious sigh.

She was keenly aware that her half-eaten waffle had been replaced by a mug of steaming coffee.

“Fluttershy had the staff bring that out for ya,” Applejack said.

Twilight looked up to see the pegasus shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Fluttershy ruffled her wings. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, not at all. Thank you, Fluttershy.” She scooped up the mug in a field of magic and took a short sip of the bitter liquid. Only after she set the mug down did she realize that all three ponies were still watching her.

Celestia spoke first.

"Is everything alright, Twilight? You were gone for quite a while.”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s Rarity. She… she said some things.”

“Is she okay?” Applejack asked. “We were both there last night—what we saw, it would affect anypony. If she needs somepony to talk to, I’d happily lend her an ear.”

“It’s not that, Applejack. Not all of it anyway.”

“Then what?” Fluttershy murmured. “Twilight, what did she say?”

Twilight breathed in deep, three pairs of eyes focused on her as she stared into the depths of her mug. She nodded slowly, her voice coming out quiet and soft.

“Princess, can we talk?”

Celestia’s ears perked ever so slightly.

“Of course, Twilight. Is there something that you want to ask me?”

“It’s… it’s about Solaire,” Twilight said.

No one said a word for a long moment. A silent agitation descended over the group as Fluttershy and Applejack shared glances before looking to Twilight and then finally Celestia.

“Solaire,” the princess reaffirmed. “I thought we had agreed it best that he leave.”

“We did, and I’m not going back on that,” said Twilight. She frowned, blowing out a puff of air. “What I’m saying is… there’s more that we could be doing. We’re better than this, aren’t we? We’re essentially dangling what must be paradise to him in front of his face and we’re just snatching it out from underneath his feet.”

Far in the back, Solaire continued his story with Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash, seemingly unaware of the conversation happening on the other side of the room.

“I mean, just look at him,” Twilight continued. “Despite his desire to leave, doesn’t he look happy here? After what he said—after everything he told us, Princess—he can’t be too thrilled about returning to his world. He can’t.”

Celestia craned her neck in the knight’s direction, the seconds passing in silence.

At once, Solaire looked their way.

A pause.

The pause lengthened.

He raised his hand in what could only be a wave, and after a few moments, the two ponies sitting near his feet turned to wave as well.

Celestia shifted her attention back to the table.

“What are you proposing then, Twilight?”

“I-I don’t know,” Twilight said, “but something is better than nothing.”

Fluttershy gave a small cough. “Um, if it means anything, I agree with Twilight. I know his curse is the main reason why he must go, but the poor dear… there has to be more that we can do.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Twilight saw Applejack’s brow lowering.

Celestia gave a slow nod.

“Very well, my little ponies. I am open to all suggestions big and small, so if an idea comes to mind that might better aid our guest, do not hesitate to share. But as it stands, there are other tasks that require my attention. I cannot fully devote myself to this—not yet anyway.”

A chorus of agreement arose from the others.

“And also,” Celestia continued, “I think it best that we delay this conversation until later in the day. Lunch perhaps. Take this time to talk with Solaire. Formulate your ideas; find out what he needs. If we don’t know how we can help, then there is very little that we can do. Does everypony understand?”

There came another series of nods.

“Very good,” Celestia said. “Now wipe away those frowns—our guest is almost done with his story.”

Twilight blinked. ”What? You can hear them?”

Celestia smiled, turning her head to the side. “Observe.”

Twilight raised in her seat to get a better look, and sure enough, Solaire, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie had started making their way back towards the table. In front, the two ponies held their heads close together, talking in low tones before they both burst into wide grins. Solaire simply trailed behind them, his long strides more than enough to keep up with their brisk pace.

Mid-sentence, Rainbow Dash glanced up and caught Twilight’s eye. Her smile widened as her canter turned into a trot, but when she saw Rarity’s empty chair, her ears flattened by the tiniest of amounts. She came to a stop just shy of the table, nodding to each of the ponies before turning to Twilight.

“Didn’t see you come in,” she said. “You talk with Rarity? Is she okay?”

“I think so,” said Twilight. “She’s in her room finishing up the dresses for tomorrow, so… yeah.”

“If she’s workin’, then she’ll be fine,” Applejack added. “Best leave her alone for now. The worst thing we can do is barge in there and start nettling her with questions when she’s tryin’ to get stuff done.”

Rainbow Dash nodded again and was soon joined by Pinkie Pie and finally Solaire. He remained in the back, his hands crossed in front of his waist as he looked to each of the ponies seated at the table.

Celestia smiled. “Will you three be joining us once more? I can chat for just a little while longer before my Daycourt duties burst through those doors to drag me away.”

Rainbow Dash glanced over her shoulder. “Actually, Princess, I uh… I kind of told Solaire that we’d take him to see the guards at their morning drills. He can totally relate because they’re soldiers too, and he’s super-curious and I promise that we’ll not bother anypony or get in their way.”

Pinkie gave a series of furious nods.

Celestia raised an eyebrow, looking in the knight’s direction.

“Oh, very much so, Princess,” said Solaire with a slight bob of his head. “I’ve a strange fascination with all things war and I’m quite curious as to how your kind wages them.”

This brooked a small smile from Celestia.

“Equestria hasn’t seen a war in over two hundred years, good knight. I don’t know what you are expecting to see, but you won’t find a vast army running drills out there in the courtyard, I can assure you of that.”

“It’s not the quantity that matters, Princess, but rather the quality of soldier that your military breeds. If you’ll permit me, that is what I am interested in seeing.”

For a brief moment, no one said a word. Twilight flicked her gaze back and forth between the two, neither of them blinking or making a move. As she focused on Solaire, Twilight couldn’t help but realize how stoic he looked without a grin.

A curious expression crossed Celestia’s face.

“Very well,” said the princess. “Might I ask who will accompany you?”

“I’m definitely going,” Rainbow Dash said, stepping forward. “What about you, Twilight? You can totally start your tour with the barracks!”

Twilight paused.

“I guess I can do that,” she said.

“Awesome.” Rainbow Dash turned to the other two ponies. “Fluttershy? Applejack? You girls wanna come too?”

“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t,” Fluttershy said. “I’ve already promised Greenhoof that I would help feed the animals this morning. I’m sorry.”

Dash frowned. “Applejack, what about you? There’s no way you’re gonna mope around the castle all day. You’ve got to come with us.”

“Only ‘cause you made such a convincin’ argument,” Applejack said as she stepped out of her seat. She looked toward Celestia. “Thank you again for puttin’ up with us, Princess. We’re mighty grateful for you givin’ us some rooms in the palace before the big day.”

“Think nothing of it,” Celestia said. “Now I trust that everypony will be on their best behaviour. My Royal Guard can be quite, ah… enthusiastic about their duties here in Canterlot.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, Princess C,” said Pinkie Pie with a wide smile. “We’ve got this good behaviour thing down to a tee!”

****

At one point during their short walk to the barracks, Pinkie Pie had disappeared. She had been taking frequent pauses to stop and admire the various knick-knacks and memorabilia that were lined up against the walls until a particularly detailed bust of a mustachioed stallion caught her eye. A full minute had passed by the time Twilight realized that Pinkie Pie was no longer with the group.

Before she could voice her concern however, Rainbow Dash sidled over and bumped the unicorn with a wing, whispering a cryptic message stating ‘party reasons’ as the culprit behind Pinkie’s disappearance.

Twilight maintained her silence.

Up ahead, Solaire was slowing his pace, no doubt wondering why he was the one leading the group. With a wink, Rainbow Dash shot forward and rejoined the knight before launching back into her salvo of questions.

Twilight bit her lip. A few feet to her right, Applejack was walking with a weary gait—her hooves fell to the floor a little too heavy and her movements were just a little too slow. The attentive aura that Applejack always seemed to have was gone, and when she blinked, her eyes stayed shut for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

But despite all this, Applejack still managed to catch Twilight glancing her way.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sugarcube?”

“W-what? No, not at all.” Twilight shook her head. “It’s just that… I guess you look pretty tired.”

Applejack gave a weak smile.

“Speak for yourself, Twi. You’re not lookin’ too hot yourself, plum tuckered out with the bags and everything.” She took a long pause, her smile faded away. “Maybe you should head on to bed, sugar. No matter what you might think, you ain’t got to be here.”

Twilight could only focus on moving her hooves. “How can I sleep knowing that I’m the one who caused all this to happen?”

Further ahead, the voices of Rainbow Dash and Knight Solaire floated through the air.

Applejack stared straight ahead, a furrow forming on her brow. Her mouth fell open, but before she could respond, their hallway terminated into a left turn quickly followed by a pair of tall wooden doors. The four of them stood there for a moment until Rainbow Dash stepped forward, cracking open the leftmost door with a strong nudge.

A thin ray of sunlight leaked inside.

Rainbow Dash redoubled her efforts and with one final push, both doors swung fully open, the blazing light of summer morning cascading into the dim hall.

Twilight shielded her eyes. Just ahead, the barracks courtyard slowly came into focus. She had forgotten how large the training grounds were—despite being the size of Ponyville Town Square, tall white walls encased the field. Lined along the wall’s base was a plain cobblestone path, and in the center of the courtyard was a wide expanse of packed dirt, the gleaming forms of distant guards still apparent through the haze of dust they kicked into the air.

The sharp percussions and dull whops of wood striking against wood floated on the edge of Twilight’s senses.

“Whoa,” Dash said, “they’re still going at it.”

Solaire stepped forward. “You were here before?”

“Oh yeah, like a couple hours ago. They’re all cool dudes, so don’t sweat it. I think it’s like a requirement or something to be this amount of cool before they let you protect the princesses.” She raised a hoof until it was level with her eyes.

Solaire nodded slowly. “They must all be capable warriors if they are given the title of Royal Guard. Well, Miss Dash, shall we go? I look forward to seeing what they’re capable of.”

Rainbow Dash an affirmative and started toward the distant ponies, Solaire trailing close behind. Twilight could only watch as the strange pair shrank into the distance, their voices whisked away by the morning breeze.

Applejack’s chuckle drew her out of her thoughts.

"That girl,” she began. “She ain’t at all bothered by this, is she? Let’s go, sugar—we can’t rightly say we kept him company if we’re dawdlin’ in the shade like this.”

As Applejack turn to leave, Twilight shot out a hoof.

“Hold on."

Applejack paused mid-step, a concerned look crossing her face.

“Twilight?”

The unicorn drew in a slow quavering breath. “About earlier at the infirmary, I… I just want to say that I’m sorry. You were only trying to help and I was too caught up in what I was thinking to realize that. Teleporting out of that room was the most selfish thing I could’ve done and I feel like a jerk, a-and you’re right to be angry. There’s just—”

“Twi.”

“Huh?”

“I ain’t mad,” Applejack said in a quiet tone. “I ain’t mad, sugar, I’m not mad at all.”

“W-why not?” Twilight sputtered out. “You should be angry. Furious. I feel like dirt for what I’ve done and I...”

“And that’s why I ain’t mad, Twilight. You’re already beatin’ yourself up over this—there’s no reason for me to start beratin’ you as well.” Applejack gave her a small smile. “C’mere. I want to tell you somethin’.”

“I…”

Applejack shook her head and calmly closed the short distance between them. They stood face to face and in a matter of seconds, Twilight found herself on the receiving end of a strong, swift hug. It was a friendly thing, a hug between friends and nothing more, but even then, a gasp still forced its way out of Twilight’s mouth when the foreleg tightened around her withers.

Applejack’s voice came out quiet and low, barely above a whisper.

“You might already know this, Twi, but I want you to hear me say it. You’re my sister, Twilight Sparkle. You’re my sister, and I’ll be darned if I’m gonna let you carry on feelin’ this way.”

She could feel the rhythmic beat of Applejack’s heart against her chest.

“Applejack, I—”

“No listen for a sec. You, Rarity, all the girls—you’re all family to me, you hear? The bonds we share… it can never be broken. Not now, not ever, and especially not over somethin’ as silly as this, okay?” The earth pony paused, drawing in a deep breath. “Look, Twilight, I ain’t no expert on the matter, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned living on the farm, it’s that families love, families laugh, and… and families fight. There ain’t no way around it—it’s a universal truth.”

Twilight swallowed away the lump in her throat.

“But it ain’t as bad as all that,” continued Applejack. “Considerin’ you have a big brother, Twi, maybe you’ve already had your fair share of it, but... there’s the heavy, hard-hittin’ words said out of hate and then there’s heavy, hard-hittin’ words said out of love. If you didn’t care about us—all our friends—would you have stormed out of that clinic in the dead of night to ensure our safety? Would you have yelled at me when I tried to stop you?”

With a surprising amount of delicacy, Applejack separated herself from Twilight and held her at leg’s length, her eyes searching across the unicorn’s face. “I know you, Twi… you wouldn’t have experimented on your soul if it weren’t for a good reason, and what better reason is there if it weren’t for us?”

Applejack nodded slowly. “You’re always there to protect us, sugarcube, but… if you’re only hurtin’ yourself doing it, then what’s the point? We’re friends, aren’t we? I don’t want to see you hurt or in pain any more than you want to see something bad happen to us.”

Twilight could feel Applejack’s hoof leave her shoulder, could hear the soft tap as it was lowered to the floor. She bit her lip, ears flattening.

“I can’t just stop,” Twilight whispered. “It’s my responsibility, isn’t it? To protect you all—to be there when it matters.”

“Why?” came Applejack’s response.

“Because I’m strong, Applejack, because I can carry the weight. If you love something, wouldn’t you risk everything for it?”

Applejack gave a soft shake of her head. “Not if it meant losing a sister, no.”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. In that moment, all the stress, all the concern, every single shred of exhaustion all collapsed into a sharp aching point inside her chest. She averted her gaze if only to avoid the piercing depth of her friend’s deep green eyes.

Applejack stepped forward.

“You’re strong, Twilight Sparkle, but we’re strong too. You don’t need to protect us because we protect each other. The world can be a dangerous and scary place, and being an Element Bearer, well… it’s really exposin’ us to all sorts of evil. But sugar, listen… that just means that you cannot be an island in all this. No more shouldering the blame, all the responsibility—we stand together in the storm, you hear?”

Twilight could feel her lips curling into a smile.

“Alright,” she said quietly.

The earth pony matched her smile with one of her own.

“Alright,” said Applejack.

The pair remained like that for a moment longer, neither of them moving or saying a word. Through the open doors floated in the sounds of a castle morning, carried by a cool breeze. Just audible were the strained shouts of distant guards, overlayed by the sharp cracks of wood smashing against wood.

Applejack’s ears flicked up as she turned to look past the door’s threshold and into the sunlit courtyard just ahead.

Twilight followed her friend’s gaze.

“Training spears,” she said. “They’ll be sparring for maybe another hour.”

Applejack glanced back at her, an eyebrow quirked. “You sound pretty sure.”

“Well, I lived in the palace for a few years, and coincidentally Shiny’s last leg of training had him stationed here as well. He asked me not to visit him when he was with the group, and I, uh… I remember being pretty upset about that. I realized a little later that it was just him not wanting to be embarrassed by his little sister, but I guess I internalized ‘seven to ten’ as being the time my brother didn’t want me around.”

Twilight put on her best reassuring smile. “It’s just one of those things where you remember the small, stupid stuff more vividly than the rest.”

With a wistful sigh, she looked out across the familiar expanse of dirt and grass. On the other end of the courtyard stood the solitary guardhouse, nestled in the shade and looking quite old and forlorn against the pure white walls. To the building’s left, the tall oak still remained, it’s thick trunk and gnarled branches stretching ever higher toward the sky.

Truthfully, it was a familiar sight. Like wiping dust off a photograph, the memory rose unbidden that it was here that she first spied her brother in the glittering golds and bright blues of the Canterlot Royal Guard.

Twilight’s smile fell away.

Leaning against the old oak was the unmistakable form of Knight Solaire. Arms crossed, he simply watched the guards at their training, the expression on his face unreadable at such a distance. Rainbow Dash hovered close by, performing lazy hoops around the tree’s base.

Twilight caught Applejack glancing her way.

The earth pony nodded toward the distant figure. “What’re you thinkin’, sugarcube?”

“Well…” Twilight furrowed her brow, “...Rarity said that we should be doing more. Something that would actually help him instead of putting a band-aid on his situation and calling it fixed.”

“But what are you thinkin’?” asked Applejack.

A long pause followed.

“I don’t know,” Twilight finally said. “One part of me agrees with her—that we can and should be doing more, but… another part of me is saying that maybe it’s best that we just ride out these two days and forget this ever happened.”

Applejack’s lips tightened at the corners.

“Listen, Twilight. This might sound cruel, but maybe you’re right. Maybe it is best that we not help him out any more than we need to.”

“I hate to ask, but can you elaborate?”

Applejack breathed out a heavy sigh. “This Solaire fella… something’s not right about him, and I am not talkin’ about his curse.”

****

“So,” Rainbow Dash began, “what d’ya think?”

Solaire blinked once and then twice before turning his attention away from the guards and toward the blue pony sitting close to his feet.

“They move well,” Solaire said. “Better than I anticipated, really.”

“Oh yeah?”

Solaire nodded.

“The techniques they use are quite fascinating. The, ah…” he frowned and tapped at his forehead, “...the horned ones.”

“Er… unicorns?”

“Yes, the way they levitate their spears and the precision of their strikes—I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow said. “That’s kind of their thing, magic and all that.”

Solaire rubbed at his chin. “And the winged ones… do they have a proper name?”

Rainbow’s mouth dropped open.

“Whoa, hey, you’re kidding, right? You’ve gone this long without knowing what we’re called?”

“I thought it rude to ask,” Solaire said, looking up toward the guards. Their training seemed to be slowing down as many of them were coming together to talk, some with upturned canteens already hanging out of their mouths.

He turned his gaze back toward Rainbow Dash. “Have I said something to offend you?”

“What? No way!” She shook her head, a smirk forming on her lips. “I just think it’s kind of hilarious that you’re some big warrior dude and you’re too shy to ask some questions.”

“Shy is not how I’d describe myself, Miss Dash. Perhaps I’m only now just realizing it, but I feel out of my element, like a, ah…”

“A pegasus on land?” Rainbow Dash shrugged, and started again in a quieter tone. “That’s what we’re called by the way, and I… I totally get it. When I first left Cloudsdale, I was, well... I was pretty scared. Scared and lonely. I don’t think I’ll forget that feeling.”

“What changed for you?” asked Solaire.

“I met my friends,” Rainbow said with a smile. “And just like that, this little groundside town stopped being a such a strange and scary place and it became my home. My new home.”

The chatter of the guards filled the silence between them.

Solaire nodded slowly. “Could you say that you travelled a road to get there, Miss Dash? Perhaps not a physical road, but a road nonetheless.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Could you also say that you had a destination in mind, and at any point, you could have turned back and returned to the place where you were before?”

“I guess?” said Rainbow Dash, her hooves shifting in the grass. “What’s this about?”

Without a word, Solaire uncrossed his arms and presented two clenched fists to the pony. He extended his left index finger, the single digit aimed toward the sky.

“Your old home,” he stated, pausing for emphasis before extending the same finger on the other hand. “And your new home.”

Rainbow Dash flicked her gaze between the two points, an eyebrow quirking upward.

“Between them,” Solaire continued, “is all the stress, anxiety, confusion and pain that you felt. It’s a transitory phase, a place between points… the long winding road. We’ve all walked it at some point, Miss Dash, but I’m afraid my journey is a little longer. There is no destination in sight, no safe haven for me to rest my aching bones. When I look behind me, all I see is nothing, because there was nothing there in the first place—do you understand? For me, there is only the road... and it goes as far as I can take it.”

Something akin to irritation flashed across Rainbow’s face.

“So, what—you’re some kind of super-hobo?” She rubbed at the space between her eyes. “Look, all I know is that everything has a beginning and an end. Your road can’t drag on forever, and what’s this about you coming from nothing? What about your home? Don’t you have parents? A family?”

Solaire breathed in deep.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I have forgotten their faces?”

“Wha—”

“I’ve lived for so long, seen so many things. Now, this is no fault of your own and I truly mean no offense, but your experiences and mine simply do not compare.” Solaire paused, his next words barely above a whisper. “Perhaps this is a good thing—no one should live long enough for their memories to turn to smoke.”

If Rainbow Dash had anything to say, Solaire didn’t hear. Listless eyes turned downward, he traced the gold band on his left ring finger, his thumb idly rotating the trinket round and round as if it had a mind of its own. With a sigh, he looked up only to find Rainbow Dash glancing at his hand.

A full two seconds had passed by the time Rainbow realized that she had been caught looking.

The pegasus’ ears lay flat.

“Is that…”

“I suppose there’s no point in hiding it,” Solaire said. He attempted a smile but the only thing that came of it was a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. After a moment’s hesitation, Solaire held out his left hand so that she might get a closer look.

“It’s a wedding band, Miss Dash. Can you imagine? At one point in my life I was married.”

Rainbow’s mouth fell open, a moment passing before the words tumbled out.

“What happened?” came her response.

“Who can say? All I know is that she’s gone and I’m still here.”

The pegasus turned her gaze toward the ground.

“Don’t look so despondent,” Solaire said in a quiet tone. “Were you expecting me to be angry, or perhaps be full of regret and remorse? I suppose that would be the natural response, but I…”

“...Yeah?”

“But I find myself not caring,” Solaire finished. After a moment, he glanced in her direction. “Does that sound harsh to you, Miss Dash? After all, how can a man not care about the fate of his wife?”

Rainbow finally looked up, an intensity building up behind her eyes.

“Harsh is one way of putting it,” she muttered. “Solaire, I don’t get it. How can you just be alrightwith not knowing what happened? She could be alive somewhere. She could be—”

Solaire shook his head. “She’s not alive.”

“And how in the hay could you possibly know that?”

Solaire shut his eyes and breathed in deep. “Listen... we are all creatures of memory. Who we are today is based solely on what we remember. Past experiences forge and guide our actions, and like puppets in a play, we all dance to the tune of that predetermined fate.”

He regarded her with a silent curiosity. “The only question, Miss Dash, is if you are aware of the strings.”

“I don’t buy it,” she said quickly. “I am who I am because, well… I’m me.”

“And if you were to wake up tomorrow without any memories of your past self, would you still be you? Would your friends still be your friends?” Solaire nodded slowly. “Would your wife still be your wife?”

Rainbow’s eyes widened and her throat bobbed up and down. For only a moment she flared out her wings before they clinched once again onto her sides.

“What are you saying?” she murmured.

“This curse threatens more than my life, Miss Dash.”

“You can’t mean—”

“Memories,” Solaire finished for her. “They’re all I have, but even then they’re not mine to keep. Not anymore. Everything fades with time, and memories are no exception. As hard as it sounds, one day I will forget even this place, as strange and beautiful as it is.”

“I-I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“But now you do,” Solaire said. “My strings have been cut—the road has long since crumbled behind me. So please, Miss Dash, don’t feel sad for me about things that cannot be changed. I can’t mourn that which cannot be remembered. I can’t put a face to a name, I can’t put a name to a face, and I cannot bring myself to care about a woman I no longer know.”

Rainbow Dash remained silent, the only giveaway that she hadn’t been turned to stone was the slight rising and falling of her chest.

She spoke suddenly, softly, as if she were afraid of disturbing the air around her.

“Then why do you wear the ring?” she asked in a low tone.

The gold band felt heavy on his finger.

“That’s a good question,” Solaire said. He looked out across the courtyard, his slow gaze roaming over every detail. “I suppose it’s to serve as a reminder that long ago, I… I used to matter to someone.”

A small smile formed on his lips.

“A pleasant thought,” he whispered.

****

Canterlot had become a busy place—Celestia needed only to glance at the pile of scrolls and missives in front of her to remind herself of that fact. The previous letter, already signed and squared away, was a report on some foreign piece of legislation that the griffons had recently passed. It wasn’t at all the most interesting of subjects and it certainly made for some dry reading, but Celestia knew deep down in her heart that only the most important of documents would ever find their way to her desk.

One solemn nod later, Celestia’s horn sparked to life as she reached for the next letter. The envelope came apart easily, and with a quick burst of magic she had its contents neatly unfolded out in front of her.

A five-year census on the sale and distribution of turnips stared back.

Celestia breathed out a deep sigh as she turned her attention to the shaded corner of her office—the one spot in the room where the sun couldn’t quite reach.

“How long were you planning on waiting there?” she said to the wall.

“Well, I suppose until you acknowledged my presence,” came the reply.

Celestia could almost hear the shrug in her sister’s voice. She blinked, and there stood Princess Luna as if she had just stepped through a nonexistent doorway.

Luna smiled.

“Ten whole minutes,” she said. “I’m impressed, sister. Your tolerance for my games seems to improve with each passing day.”

“Even you have taken to calling it games,” Celestia said as she made a show of straightening out a stack of perfectly aligned papers.

“What else would I call it? It’s definitely not work, I can assure you of that.” Luna moved like a shadow alongside the wall of bookshelves, pausing occasionally to read the spines. She hummed a thoughtful sound. “You see, sister, I only consider it work if the pony I’m watching over needs my help in some regard.”

Not once did Celestia take her eyes off her.

Luna reached out toward the shelf, her hoof lingering in the air before she lowered it back to the floor. In that silent second, both princesses understood that the time for pretense was over. Luna breathed in deep, and in one fluid motion she craned her head over her shoulder and regarded Celestia with a single penetrating eye.

“Something weighs heavy on your mind, sister, and I don’t believe it’s the price of turnips.”

Celestia nodded slowly. Through the open windows, she could just make out the barracks of her Royal Guard.

“Luna,” she began, “I need a favor.”

Sunlight Talisman

“Medium for casting miracles of the Gods. The talisman of Solaire of Astora, the Knight of Sunlight, is decorated with a holy symbol, illustrated by Solaire himself. This talisman is a projection of Solaire's upstanding, unwavering faith.”

Author's Note

A heartfelt thanks to my friend and editor,Kitsunerisu.

Chapter Five - Not of This World

With each breath came the putrid stench of waste and decay. It lingered like a bad habit, never fading as if the very smell were seeping into her skin and clothes. Beneath her boots, the floor was coated in a slick layer of brown unmentionables, each footfall kicking up a new wave of stink that only reminded her that what they were stepping through was far from mud.

Adria wrinkled her nose.

A few paces in front of her, Kirk walked with a calm deliberation. The knight held a smoldering ember of a torch high above his head, the flame’s orange glow just enough to keep the darkness at bay but too dim to illuminate much else. The ceiling was simply too high, the opposing wall too far, and preventing them from exploring another path was an enormous channel of bilgewater and filth that seemed to flow forever through the center of the tunnel.

They had been walking in silence for the past thirty minutes but not once did Kirk pause to observe his surroundings or even so much as rotate his head to look around. He only had eyes for the path in front of him, his barbed helmet unmoving as they descended further into the dark bowels of the earth.

Adria cleared her throat.

“So where are you taking me?” she finally asked.

“Blighttown,” Kirk said in his gravel-like voice. “Are you familiar with the place?”

“Only in name I’m afraid.”

“Then perhaps you know of the men who used to dwell in these tunnels.”

Adria paused.

“Cannibals,” she breathed out. “Mainly known for the powerful poisons and paralytics they use to subdue their victims. Anyone who intrudes on their domain is likely to become their next meal.”

Kirk didn’t bother turning around. “That's all in the past. I’ve long since taken control of these pipelines. I keep them clear. I keep them safe, and nothing can pass through without my knowing.”

Kirk continued forward, speaking again after a brief pause. “I’m curious, lady. Who told you about the cannibals that used to stalk these halls? You’ve obviously never been down here yourself judging by the way your eyes shift in the dark or how your heartbeat thunders against the silence.”

When Adria said nothing, Kirk let out a low chuckle.

“It was Solaire, wasn’t it? He told you it was too risky. Too dangerous. Just the words I would expect from that spineless bastard of a man.”

Adria stopped in place, a frown forming on her lips. “Kirk, I can't help but ask. How do you know Solaire?”

And for the first time, Kirk stopped as well. As he turned to face her, the rust-black plates of his armor ground against each other in a dull cacophony of grating metal.

Adria took a step back.

Sharp iron barbs sprouted from every surface of Kirk’s armor. From the massive pauldrons that sat upon his shoulders to the coiling bands of blackened metal that wrapped around his limbs, the thorns that covered him were simply too numerous—too wild—to have been forged by a blacksmith’s hammer.

Even the fullhelm that so effectively concealed his face was overgrown with those very same barbs, and Adria could only wonder how he removed it—let alone the rest of the pieces—without skewering his hands on the spikes. It was as if his suit of armor had been reclaimed by nature and like a hateful parasite, engulfed the man still inside.

His rough voice cut through the silence.

“How do I know him?” he repeated. “Heh... I suppose in the same way that you do, lady.”

Adria’s brow furrowed.

“You were partners?”

Kirk gave a slow nod. “Long ago, me and the man you know as Solaire used to travel together. Me and him, we fought side by side. Against the hollows. Against the world. Against this curse. After everything, Adria, I believed him to be my brother.”

“Wh… what happened?” Adria whispered.

“He led me down here.”

Kirk turned away. “Let’s go. We need to keep moving.”

Adria fell in line behind the knight, a hundred thoughts whirling through her brain. In the minutes that followed, she recalled the numerous stories that Solaire had once told her, but the name ‘Kirk’ never once popped up. If what Kirk was saying was true, then whatever had happened between the two must have been something that Solaire was desperately trying to forget.

Or he had already forgotten.

Adria focused on the figure in front of her. “Kirk, indulge me for just a little longer. How long ago was this?”

She received a grunt as a reply.

“Please,” she said.

Kirk breathed out a deep sigh. “Let’s just say that there are massive trees on the surface that were only saplings when Solaire and I first met.”

“Is that long enough ago for the cannibals to still have lived in these tunnels?”

Kirk paused once more.

“Listen, lady. Maybe it’s best that we not continue down this line of questioning.”

“I deserve to know,” Adria retorted. “If I’m to be helping you with your manhunt, then I should at least be aware of your reasons why.”

“Is that so?”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but let’s not forget who approached who. You came to me asking for help, and if you’re not privy to revealing your information, then I could just as easily walk away.”

Kirk looked at her from over his shoulder. “Walk then. I may have been the one who approached you but don’t paint me as the only one who benefits from this arrangement. You seek the Lord Soul, do you not? Or are you so certain that you can kill Solaire—let alone find him—all by yourself? I haven’t forgotten the state I found you in, lady. If you are so keen on receiving another blade through the heart, then go ahead and walk.”

Adria frowned.

“Spare me the theatrics, Kirk. We cursed ones all have disturbing pasts and unpleasant stories—you are not unique here. Besides, we’re just talking, aren’t we? And as far as I'm aware, talking never hurt anybody.” She shrugged, waiting, before offering up her palms in resignation. “Be tight-lipped all you want, sir. If I do walk away, the only one at fault here would be you.”

Silence greeted her.

Without so much as a word, Kirk started forward once more, his footsteps echoing through the dark tunnel.

Naturally, Adria followed.

“Solaire abandoned you down here, didn’t he, Kirk? He left you to die, to rot—to be eaten—so that he could stay in the sunlight just a little longer.”

“That’s not what happened,” Kirk growled back.

“Then enlighten me! My curiosity isn’t a thing that can be wished away simply because you demanded it so.”

The slight stutter in Kirk’s step was the only indication that he had heard her. A long moment passed before Kirk replied.

“We were attacked,” he began. “One second we were alone, making our way down a tunnel very similar to this one, and the next we found ourselves surrounded. The cannibals, they struck with such speed and ferocity. It’s all a blur. A blur, and darkness.”

“Did you not carry lights?”

“What should I have done, lady? Sprouted a third arm so that I might continue holding my torch? They were upon us within a span of a blink—my immediate thoughts were not dedicated to a piece of burning timber.”

Kirk let out an exasperated sigh. “Not that it would have made a difference. Amidst all the confusion, one of their poison darts managed to slip through my armor.”

Adria bit her lip.

“The paralytics…”

“Indeed. I could no longer stand, let alone grip a sword. We both knew then that I would not escape. Solaire and I exchanged words and the next thing I know, he’s fleeing for his life and I’m left with the cannibals. Over a dozen of them and I can hardly move.”

Adria mulled over the scenario in her mind. “Considering we’re having this talk, you obviously escaped a terrible fate.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, lady. You cannot escape karma or fate or whatever you want to call it—all you can do is trade one for another.” Kirk let out a short, humorless laugh. “You must be wondering how I got away.”

“Among other things,” she whispered.

Without a word, Kirk jabbed his thumb toward the central canal, toward the sickly river of sludge and grime that smelled of decay and death.

As Adria’s gaze slowly returned to that solitary figure in front of her, to the rusted plates of armor covered in black barbs, she came to a sudden realization.

“Kirk, you…”

“Weighed down and paralyzed, you can imagine how quickly I sank.”

Adria gave her head a small shake. “Then what of Solaire? Why are you hunting someone from so far in your past?”

The seconds bled together, their footsteps the only sound to be heard.

Kirk started once more in a low tone. “Know this, lady. I don’t fault him for running away. It was the right choice. The only choice. One of us escaping was better than both of us becoming food for those monsters.”

“Then why the animosity? I still don’t understand.”

Kirk twisted around to face her. “Because he never looked. Do you know how long I remained at the bottom of that channel? Do you know how many times I died, drowning on the filth of this dead city over and over and over again, holding onto some blind hope that he would come and dredge me out of the mud?”

Kirk suddenly fell silent.

“Have you ever experienced misery, lady?”

“I…”

“Don’t know? Then let me tell you a story. For you see, it was not Solaire who pulled me out of the dirt and grime, but instead a woman—a complete stranger to me, someone who had no reason for doing what she did. And as she wiped my armor clean, as she attempted to file down the thorns that had sprouted, as she sucked the very poison out of my body... that is when I discovered what misery truly is.”

Kirk breathed in deep.

“Misery, Adria, is the absence of hope, and despite how many people you’ve saved, want to save, wished you could have saved… there is no one those people can rely on but themselves. Down here in this life beyond death, we are all equals… all made to suffer.”

Adria’s gaze roamed across the knight’s harsh silhouette.

“This woman who saved you...”

Kirk’s reply was a whisper in the dark.

“She’s gone.”

Adria swallowed away the lump in her throat. “I… I’m sorry."

“Don’t be. She wasn’t fit for this world, and to be perfectly candid… this world did not deserve her either. No soul as kind as she should have to live in a place like this. After everything that she’d endured, I—”

Kirk shook his head. "It’s best that she’s moved on.”

“I...”

“Let’s go.”

Kirk started forward, his plated boots loud against the stone flooring. As he drifted further and further away, Adria had no choice but to follow.

She crossed her arms and hugged them close to her chest. “Kirk, if you don’t mind me asking… what did you do after she rescued you?”

“I remained by her side of course. Call it my duty as a knight, my pride as a man. Perhaps you could even call it guilt, but I could not abandon the woman who had so selflessly saved my life."

“Guilt?”

“The poison and filth she pulled from my body had to go somewhere. It’s simply the price she paid for helping others. I should have been left to rot."

“Kirk, thats—”

“A cruel thing to say? Don't make me laugh. Everywhere you look, everywhere you turn, someone is crying out in pain and anguish. You’ve encountered them before I’m sure—hapless individuals on the edge of insanity, grasping at what little remains of themselves from a time long past. What would you do, I wonder, if we were to encounter one at this exact moment?”

“I’d help them,” Adria said after a brief pause.

“And why is that?”

“Because I can relate.”

If Adria were paying any less attention, she would have missed the momentary clenching of Kirk’s vacant hand.

He spoke slowly. Softly. “It was Solaire that pulled you back from the brink, wasn’t it? He stopped you from going hollow.”

Adria bit her lip.

“Your silence speaks mountains, lady, but let me tell you something. For every saint there is a killer, and for every killer there are thirty more apathetic souls who couldn't care less whether you lived or died.”

“And which are you?”

“I think you know,” said Kirk. “In a world of monsters and saints, it is the selfless who are the first to hollow. Like water poured onto parched earth, they fade away in the baking heat until all that’s left are the cracks and dust that they tried to wash clean. The fools dedicated themselves for the sake of others. That was their purpose—their bid for immortality. But look around you. What do you see?”

“I don’t…”

“Things are worse than ever and your saints are nowhere to be seen. They lost their minds trying to do the right thing. They're gone because they were good people.”

Adria frowned in the dark.

“Then what of Solaire?” she whispered. “Then what of you?”

Kirk stopped in place, his voice just loud enough to be heard. “Listen, lady. I have done things that you will never be able to comprehend.”

“And so has Solaire,” Adria said in a calm tone. “He saved me when he had no reason to. He trained me. He protected me. He gave me a reason to fight so that I may live. Solaire has done all that and more and yet he still walks this earth as a man and not a monster.”

Adria studied the barbed figure, her gaze tracing across the back of the knight’s helmet.

With slow steps, Kirk turned to face her.

“Do not compare me to him,” Kirk began.

“And why not? Because you’ve killed? Murdered?” Adria shook her head. “We’re all killers, Kirk. That’s simply the way of the world now. We breathe because it’s a necessity. We eat because it’s a necessity, and we kill because it’s a necessity. You may think yourself a monster, but I think differently.”

For a long moment, Kirk just stood there, the torch in his grip casting long flickering shadows onto the walls.

A bead of sweat trailed into Adria’s brow.

"Kirk... you're not a true darkwraith, are you? If you were, you would have killed me without hesitation. You would never have let me wake up.”

When Kirk said nothing, Adria took a cautious step forward. "The woman who saved you... she was your everything, wasn't she? Just as the darkwraiths do, you killed others for their souls because that's what she needed, yes? She needed souls just like the rest of us and you had no other choice but to help her.”

Kirk remained unmoving. Whatever expression he wore on his face, Adria had no way of knowing—his helmet was a solid mask of steel and spikes that gave nothing away. After a long moment, Kirk spoke.

“All that I’ve done…” he began, “all the killings, all the murders, they could at least be justified if she had lived. If I was able to save her. But she’s gone. She’s gone and there is nothing left. I have nothing left to give."

His shoulders slowly sank. "Tell me... what is a knight without his morals?"

Despite herself, Adria found words forming on her lips. “We’re all just humans, Kirk… humans thrust into a monstrous situation. It's inevitable that this place will change you, but... in the end, it’s you who chooses what to make of that change. We have to believe that.”

Slowly, as if in a daze, Kirk turned away. If what she said had any effect on the barbed figure, he made no show of it. They continued on, neither of the two saying a word as the minutes whiled away.

More alert than ever, Adria found herself observing the knight’s gear, or rather the complete lack of it. Kirk carried no satchels or bags or anything that might have contained provisions. All he had on his person was the blackened sword strapped to his waist—a barbed hunk of steel that would sooner rip into flesh than slice it clean through—and the shield strapped to his back. A spiked disk that could, as Adria peered closer quickly realized, inflict just as much damage as any other spear, sword or makeshift club that had ever been swung in her direction.

Adria slowed her pace. Knight of Thorns indeed.

Without any explanation, Kirk moved closed to the wall and ran his fingers across the sludge-covered bricks. He slowly lowered himself to the floor and, with a groan, reclined against the wall.

Adria’s gaze followed him all the way down. Before she could speak, however, Kirk waved a hand in her direction.

“We need to wait here. At least for a moment."

Frowning, Adria squinted against the dark expanse of tunnel before them. “Is something wrong?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” said Kirk. “But don’t fret—sound carries well down here. If something were to be wandering these halls, we would hear it long before it got close. Please, have a seat."

Adria gave a slow nod and with an air of hesitation sat down an arm’s length away from the knight.

She held back any response, instead giving Kirk a sidelong glance. The torch in his hands flickered a listless dance, long since burned out the last dregs of fuel that had once soaked its end.

“Your torch is dying,” she whispered.

Kirk straightened up slightly. “Ah… so it is.”

Without warning, Kirk drew his arm back and tossed the ember into the canal, it’s light starting to sputter and fade as it made contact with the putrid water. The torch floated on the surface for a moment longer before it finally sank, its orange glow winking out of existence like a dying star in the night sky.

Adria slowed her breaths.

“You speak so easily of change,” began the knight. “Changing yourself, changing the world… you draw your strength from those beliefs and I envy you for that.”

Kirk paused, letting the darkness fill the silence he left behind.

“But listen to me, lady. It was not to intimidate you when I said I’ve done things that you will never comprehend. In my desperation to save the life of my saviour, I… sought out those with power. Those with strength. Those who could steal the souls out of every man, woman and child in this place.”

“The darkwraiths,” Adria murmured.

Kirk hummed his assent. “I found them deep within the ruins of a sunken city, submerged just as I was, waiting for someone to set them free. I had known then that I was unleashing even more of the ancient killers upon the world, but… what I could not know was the absolute terror that lurked further down.

“Adria… has Solaire never told you of the Abyss?”

The only sound to be heard was the steady drips of condensation and the river of sewer water as it churned its way deeper into the earth.

“The Abyss? He… he’s never made mention of it, Kirk. I…”

“You speak so easily of change and yet there is so much that you do not know. It’s no fault of your own of course… these mysteries have taken me years to discover and ages to understand. Rather, I blame the man you traveled with. The one who calls himself Solaire.”

Kirk breathed out a deep sigh. “He’s kept you in the dark. Shrouded the futility of this quest he’s set you on. Solaire may present himself as a simple warrior but he is not a fool. He knows more than he would have you believe. I am sure of that.”

Adria swallowed away the lump in her throat. “What are saying...”

“Abandon your quest,” said Kirk. “The fragility of this world is of a glass sculpture and it has already shattered against the ground. You cannot fix that which has already broken. You cannot set right the wrongs of the past. You cannot save this world. The Abyss will devour all in its path and there is nothing that any of us can do about it.”

Kirk’s voice grew heavy. “Abandon your quest, Adria. For your own sake, let it go. You owe Solaire nothing. If you continue pursuing the impossible, you will hollow.”

Adria could feel her hands forming tight fists. “I have devoted everything to this. I can’t just walk away. Not now.”

“Desperation breeds necessity. You will find something else.”

“Just as you have?” she whispered. “Tell me, Kirk, what will you do after we kill Solaire? Just the very thought of murdering him is enough to keep you sane but what then when he’s laying dead at your feet? Who will pull you back from the brink, hold you close as the walls of your mind crumble around you?”

“There is always something else.”

“Temporary solutions to permanent problems. You spend your life jumping from purpose to purpose, you’ll quickly realize you never had one in the first place.” Refocusing her thoughts, Adria pressed on. “Listen, Kirk, I may not be as old or as experienced as you, but that also means that I’m not as jaded. Not so prone to giving up.”

She could hear Kirk’s slow breaths reverberating in the dark.

“Do you remember your purpose, Knight of Thorns? Did you have one at all? You linger here in this godforsaken sewer, plotting your revenge against a man who doesn’t even remember your name. Is that what you’ve been reduced to?”

“You…”

“Solaire and I are different,” Adria continued. “If he had his way, Solaire would have this world preserved. Stuck in this... unnatural limbo. Tell me, how many more cursed souls must lose their minds in this place? How many more must suffer as we have?”

She nodded slowly as if to reinforce her next words.

“Kirk… I’m prepared to do what is necessary to break this curse. I’m prepared for the coming nightmares, the constant struggle—the blood on my hands—if it means that I can put an end to this once and for all.”

Adria rose to her feet and in one swift motion, drew the staff strapped to the back of her belt. She focused inwardly, sending her magic down the staff’s length before coalescing into a faint golden glow at its tip.

She looked toward Kirk, her voice a mountain in the dim light. “I’m not asking you to believe that the Abyss can be stopped. I’m not asking you to believe that this world can be saved…”

She offered him her hand.

“...I’m asking you to believe in me.”

The seconds passed.

The silence lengthened

But there, in that sewage pipe deep beneath Lordran, the forgotten knight felt something stir deep within his chest. he clasped hands with the sorceress and with their combined strength, pulled himself to his feet.

Words spoken for her and her alone were uttered.

And the sorceress smiled.

“I’m glad you see it my way,” she whispered.

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 5 - Not of This World

The barracks courtyard seemed almost deserted with all the guards taking their break. Most of them were lined up against the far wall, nestled in the shade like tiny desert lizards attempting to escape the oppressive heat.

Even under the large oak as he was, Solaire could still feel the air warming up as the morning sun rose higher and higher into the sky.

“So you’re from… Karkaryon? Did I pronounce that right?” The guard looked up and down Solaire’s tall form.

“Er... yes,” said Solaire. “It’s a small cluster of islands found some fifty miles off the Minocretian coast.”

“Minocrete, huh? You know, I’ve seen a few minotaurs in my time. Big fellows—two legs, two arms—they look a lot like you actually.” The guard offered up a shrug. “Can’t really say I’ve heard of this Karkaryon place though.”

“I’d be surprised if you had, er…”

“Halcyon,” said the guard with a smile. “The name’s Halcyon.”

Solaire gave a slow nod.

This Halcyon pony had approached him not two minutes before, bearing kind eyes and an easy gait that seemed to conflict with the armor fastened to his body and the helmet strapped to his head. As with all the other guards, his coat was a pure white and his limbs, corded with muscle, were attached to a thick barrel of a chest. Though Halcyon bore an intimidating physique, his voice was underlayed with a folksy charm that could only be described as warm.

“So I’m guessing that you’re our special guest,” Halcyon began. “Captain Rook made mention that we had an important visitor on premises but he didn’t exactly elaborate. Kept it all hush-hush. ‘Above our pay-grade’ I think he said.”

“Well, my arrival was unexpected to say the least. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. You ponies have been nothing if not a font of hospitality.”

Halcyon offered up a fleeting smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, but what brings you to Canterlot? Not that it’s any of my business what your business is, but it must be important if they’ve got you holed up in the castle.”

Solaire shook his head. “Nothing so dramatic I’m afraid. I’m a, ah… a diplomat of sorts. The first mediator between our two lands.”

“Huh.” Halcyon looked him up and down once more. “A diplomat.”

“Y...yes.”

“From Karkaryon.”

Solaire caught the stallion glancing at his exposed forearm where a thick white scar ran diagonally down to his wrist.

Halcyon raised a brow. “Did you get that signing documents?”

Solaire chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you know how these political disagreements can get. Say one wrong thing and the whole room eats you alive.”

Halcyon’s face split into a relaxed grin. “Sounds like you and our resident prince should exchange notes.”

That earned another laugh from Solaire but the mirth was short-lived. Halcyon cleared his throat and launched into his next barrage of questions.

"So, er... Solaire, right? So tell me, Mister Solaire... what’s a guy like you doing out here in a place like this? I mean, most diplomats I’ve seen are content with staying in the castle, but you? You’ve been out here almost all morning and with three of the Element Bearers no less.”

Solaire looked over the stallion’s shoulder to where Twilight Sparkle, Applejack and Rainbow Dash were sitting in the shade on the opposite end of the courtyard. They were talking amongst themselves but even from such a distance, he could tell that the three were keeping a close eye on him.

He looked back toward Halcyon.

“You know of them?” Solaire voiced.

“What, you mean the Bearers?” Halcyon let out a low whistle. “Oh yeah. For lack of a better phrase, they’re kind of a big deal around here. You wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking, but all six of them are national heroes for the, uh… what is it, the fourth time now? Just name it—shapeshifting bug-monsters, the physical manifestation of chaos… heck, even Princess Luna’s millennial return—they were involved in all of that.”

Solaire raised a brow. “And these were all big events?”

“World-shattering,” said Halcyon.

A frown formed on Solaire’s lips. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could just make out the blurred shapes of those three ponies, their heads close together as they whispered words not intended for his ears.

“I hadn’t realized they were so… capable.”

“Capable, yes. Powerful? Undoubtedly so. But even then, Mister Solaire, they’re still civilians.”

“Oh?”

The unicorn raised a hoof.

“Don’t get me wrong—I think they’re great, I think they’re smart, and I sure as stars think that Equestria owes them a big debt of gratitude for all they’ve done, but…” Halcyon winced slightly, “... but us guards exist for a reason. Celestia forbid, if something were to happen you wouldn’t find those girls on the frontlines. I can assure you of that.”

Solaire glanced in the stallion’s direction. “Ah, but that’s just simple tactics. Barring the fact that they’re not trained for the rigors of war, I don’t think your princesses would so readily expose their trump cards to any sort of danger.”

“You know your stuff,” Halcyon said quietly. “So you can kinda see why me and the boys were a little curious as to how you managed to get three very important mares to accompany you around the grounds. Yeah, they’re in town for the gala tomorrow but to spend their morning following a diplomat? These are small-town girls, Solaire, and this is the capital—there are far more interesting things to see than some visiting politician... from halfway around the world or not.”

A sigh escaped Halcyon’s lips.

“Listen, I’m gonna be frank with you, Mister Solaire. I don’t care what you are. If Princess Celestia says you’re a diplomat, then you’re a diplomat. It’s not my place to question these things but that doesn’t mean I can’t make observations of my own either.”

Halcyon leaned in slightly. “All I can say is that I’ve learned to be a little cautious when I see worried looks on the faces of those mares.”

Solaire swallowed away the dryness in his throat. As Halcyon spoke, Solaire couldn’t help but notice the two dozen pairs of eyes that had been turning toward their conversation as if it were a brewing storm being detected by a flock of crows. Most of the guards were still chatting amongst themselves but now it was in hushed tones and their sidelong glances did little to disguise what it was that they were talking about.

On the other side of the courtyard, Twilight Sparkle eyed him with a strange intensity.

Solaire turned back toward the pony in front of him.

“Who are you exactly, Halcyon?”

The stallion shrugged. “I’m just the stallion who was expected to speak with you during break, Mister Solaire. The others gave me the whole spiel about seniority and how it was only proper that I be the one who approached you. But hey, do you know what I call it?”

“Er—”

Halcyon smiled. “I call it throwing their officer under the wagon.”

Before Solaire could get another word in, Halcyon’s horn sparked to life. A light green aura travelled from root to tip, and in one swift motion, Halcyon turned to face the distant guards. When he spoke, his voice came not from his mouth but from a point high above the courtyard, magnified multiple times.

“This is your lieutenant speaking. Unfortunately for us all, break is now over. However due to some…” Halcyon looked to the clear blue sky, “...inclement weather, the rest of today’s training session has been cancelled.”

Solaire raised a brow.

“But before you all return to your duties, I’d like to have a word. Fall in, gentlecolts. I’ll be with you shortly.”

At once, the two dozen guards snapped their helmets back onto their heads and started forming neat rows in the center of the dirt field. Halcyon, for his part, simply sauntered off to his left, making a lazy line for the cobblestone shack on the other side of the massive oak.

Frowning, Solaire jogged up to the stallion’s side.

“Not one for procedure?” he said to the lieutenant.

“Not really,” came the reply. “Procedure, protocol… I’ll leave those for the ponies like Captain Rook and Shining Armor.”

“Er...”

“It’s a simple matter of those two being able to do things that I could never do. There’s no way you’d know this, but Captain Rook? Captain Shining Armor? I consider them both prodigies.” Halcyon gave a sage nod. “Trust me, I’ve seen their desks. It should be illegal for paperwork to be stacked that high.”

The pair continued on toward the shack, the next few seconds passing in silence. Horn alight, Halcyon pulled open the wooden door and stopped by the entrance. He tilted his head toward the displaced knight.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Mister Solaire, I think you and me are a lot alike.”

Solaire cleared his throat. “And why is that, Lieutenant?”

“Well for one thing, you’d rather be out here with us grunts than behind some desk in the castle. I said it before—I don’t care what you are, but seeing you out here in the sun like this makes you alright in my book.”

Without another word, the stallion slipped into the dim shack and emerged a few moments later with a training spear in his telekinetic grip. He held out the spear handle-side first and nodded toward Solaire.

“What is this?” Solaire asked, glancing between the weapon and Halcyon’s face. “You cancelled today’s session.”

“As if I’d deprive a diplomat of his fun.” Halcyon nudged the spear a little closer. “Go on, take it. You were starting to look a little bored.”

Solaire reached out but hesitation slowed his hand.

The stallion gave him a mischievous grin. “What d’ya say, Mister Solaire? How would you like to spar with the boys?”

****

“Twi?”

“I see it, Applejack.”

“Twi. That guard’s givin’ him a spear.”

“I see it!”

Rainbow Dash scratched the back of her head. “So, uh… are they seriously gonna let him fight?”

“What else do you do with spears, sugarcube? Poke holes in the ground? Yeah they’re gonna let him fight! Look, that Halcyon fella’s takin’ Solaire to the other guards now.”

Twilight chewed at the inside of her lip. “Oh, this is not good. This is so not good.”

“I really don’t see what the problem is,” Rainbow said with a shrug. “He’s a big guy. The guards are big guys. It’s like the stallions who play hoofball in the park back home. Maybe this’ll be good for him in a sort of competitive, male-bonding kind of way.”

“Yeah, no. You’re right, Rainbow Dash. We’ll just let the zombie alien go on a testosterone-fueled rampage after somepony sticks him with a spear a little too hard.” Twilight let out a weak groan when she saw Rainbow’s growing frown. “I’m sorry. I know that came out a little harsh but wasn’t Solaire telling you and Pinkie about the things he’s done? I mean, for Celestia’s sake, he told us that he’s fought with full-grown dragons before just like… in passing mention. That’s not something you say just in passing mention!”

Applejack rose to her hooves. “Twi, we’ve gotta do somethin’.”

“I wish we could, but Princess Celestia said not to interfere with her Guard’s training.”

The earth pony fixed the unicorn with a stare. “And Lieutenant Halcyon said that training’s over.”

A bird chirruped in the distance.

A butterfly flitted about on the edge of Twilight’s vision.

And without so much as a word, Twilight stood up as well.

“Let’s go,” she finally said.

****

Solaire shifted on his feet. The guards had formed a loose semi-circle around him and though they all carried an air of professionalism, Solaire could still feel their curious eyes roaming over every inch of his body. He took a deep breath, focusing instead on the blunted spear in his grip.

Halcyon’s gaze swept across his charges.

“Alright. Now that introductions are out of the way, who wants to go a few rounds with our Karkaryan guest? Regulation rules, of course.”

The guards looked to each other, a quiet murmur surging through their ranks. All eyes eventually fell on a white stallion who, after receiving nods from all his companions, finally stepped forward. His horn took on a blue glow and with an audible pop materialized an identical training spear out of thin air.

Solaire caught the lieutenant with a downward tilt of his eyes.

“Regulation rules?” he voiced.

Halcyon nodded. “First to land a clean hit to the chest or head wins a point. Best of three takes the match, and oh... keep in mind that thrusts to the face are illegal. There are precautions in place, both in the weapons and our gear, but still—we try our best to avoid gouging out each other’s eyes.”

Solaire furrowed his brow. Opposite of he, his opponent wore a stone mask of a face. The stallion’s armor glimmered in the sunlight, each plate putting out a bright glow. Several paces behind him stood the rest of his compatriots, all two-dozen of them forming a golden wall of metal and burnished steel.

Solaire resisted the urge to pad at his unprotected chest. His chainmail and helmet which had been shed before breakfast were instead adorning a high-back chair in the parlor of Princess Celestia’s tower. Without so much as a downward glance, he knew that his tunic would do little to absorb a blow.

As if detecting his concern, Halcyon gave the challenger a look.

“Corporal Freeflow, maybe it’s best that you—”

Solaire raised a hand. “No. No holding back.”

The guard glanced to his commanding officer, who only gave a slow nod. As if that were all he needed, Corporal Freeflow turned his gaze back toward Solaire and widened his stance, horn aglow as he pounded his spear twice in the dirt before leveling it at Solaire’s chest.

Though he was in a different place, a different land, a different world altogether, the familiar rush of battle remained the same. The fiery look in his opponent’s eyes, the shifting weight of a weapon in his hands, these were all tangible things.

Things that could be touched. Felt. Disposed of.

Conquered.

As Solaire readied his spear, the faint tattoo of approaching hooves grew louder and louder. He took a deep breath and straightened up, his gaze following those of the spectating soldiers. A quiet murmur pulsed through the crowd as the golden wall parted just enough to allow three mares through.

From the gap emerged Twilight Sparkle, Applejack and Rainbow Dash, determination etched into their features.

Armed with a reassuring smile, Halcyon stepped forward. “Morning, ladies. Decided to watch?”

“Not exactly,” Twilight said. “I just need a word with Solaire. May I speak with him?”

Halcyon glanced in Solaire’s direction. “Er... by all means, Miss Twilight.”

Solaire raised a brow as the unicorn made her approach, leaving only a stiff silence in her wake. She passed Corporal Freeflow whose eyes followed her from beneath the brim of his helmet. She passed Lieutenant Halcyon who smiled as she trotted by before finally coming to a stop at the base of Solaire’s legs.

She stared up at him with narrowed eyes, neither of the two saying a word.

A second passed.

Five seconds.

Solaire cleared his throat. “Ah—”

A purple hoof shot out like a whip.

“Down here,” Twilight said in a quiet tone. “No one else can hear this.”

Solaire looked once more toward waiting crowd before slowly dropping into a squat next to the unicorn. When she beckoned him closer with a small frown, Solaire leaned forward slightly and turned his head to the side.

When two more seconds passed, Solaire glanced her way only to see Twilight giving him a bewildered look.

“Wh… what is that?” she whispered.

“What’s what?”

“That! Why am I talking to the side of your head? I feel like you aren’t listening or something.”

After a long moment, Solaire smiled.

“I can’t swivel my ears, Miss Sparkle. I can maybe… “he waggled his eyebrows up and down, “... move them a little- ah! See, there? But that’s all I can do.”

Twilight’s frown remained.

“Solaire, please. This is serious.”

“Of course.”

Twilight groaned into her hoof. “Listen, I don’t mind that you’re willing to do this whole… sparring thing with the guards. In fact, I think it’s kind of neat that everyone’s getting along so well in the first place, but…”

She breathed out a weary sigh. “They think you’re a diplomat, Solaire. They don’t know what you really are. Stars, I don’t even know and I’ve been in every meeting—secret or otherwise—since you’ve arrived.”

“Miss Sparkle?”

“Listen, just... be careful, okay?”

Solaire glanced over her shoulder to where his opponent remained as stoic as ever.

“I think I can handle anything the corporal can throw at me,” assured Solaire.

Twilight looked up, her large eyes roaming over every feature of his face. At once, her lips cracked into a small frown.

“It’s not just you that I’m worried about.”

As she turned to leave, Solaire gave her a gentle poke on the shoulder.

“You look tired, Miss Sparkle.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve been awake for a little over twenty four hours now, so there’s that.”

Solaire nodded slowly. “Then let me put your mind at ease. I’ve already promised myself that I would not hurt any of these ponies and now I am sharing that promise with you. You have my word on this.”

Twilight turned her gaze on him once more, the creases of her brow disappearing the longer she looked. She took one step back, and then two, but in place of her frown there was instead a muted smile.

“Alright,” she finally said. “Just know that I’m holding you to that. Good luck, okay?”

Before Solaire could get a word in, she turned away and started the long trek back to her friends.

Only when she took her spot back with the spectators did Solaire rise again to his full height. Ten paces in front of him, Corporal Freeflow readied his spear once more. The weapon hovered just above the stallion’s head, trembling with energy liked an arrow on a pulled string.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Solaire could see Halcyon making his approach.

The lieutenant stopped just shy of centerfield and, looking between each of the competitors, began. “Remember... this is a best-of-three bout. First to two points, wins. Only strikes to the head and chest count. Are there any questions?”

Only silence greeted him.

“Alright then,” Halcyon finished.

The lieutenant’s horn sparked to life, and as if conjured from nothing appeared a luminous, red orb that floated high in the air between the two competitors.

Solaire could feel that familiar rush returning in his veins. He could feel the crowd’s anticipation in their withheld breaths and he could feel his opponent’s desire to win in the very air itself.

He widened his stance and readied his spear, though he had no intention of using it. Not yet.

Brace.

The red orb pulsed once. Twice.

Somewhere a voice called out, “Green means go!” It must have been Twilight’s.

Solaire tightened his grip on the spear.

“With all you have,” he breathed out. “With all you have, Corporal.”

Brace.

And as soon the orb finished its third pulse, a deep green light shone down from the sky.

Brace.

****

Twilight had known for a long time the speeds that a guard’s spear could reach. Many hours were spent in this very courtyard, a book under her nose as the soldiers went about their drills. More often than not, the sharp whistling of spears slicing through the air was the designated soundtrack for her morning readings.

Without a doubt, the guards of her earlier years were skilled so it didn’t come as much of a shock when several years later, as Twilight saw the match between human and stallion begin and end within the span of a blink, she realized that same truth still held true.

The lieutenant raised a hoof. “One point: Freeflow.”

A simple thrust was all it took. One thrust to the chest and judging by Solaire’s lack of a reaction, it was hard to tell whether he saw the attack at all.

Twilight turned her gaze to the fallen knight. Solaire lay on his back, a hand resting on the spot where he has just been struck. As blunted as they were, the training spears would sooner smash a tomato than skewer it. But even then, without any sort of armor or protection it would be no surprise if Solaire suffered a cracked rib from that blow.

“Gosh,” Rainbow Dash whispered. “Is he gonna be alright?”

Twilight glanced toward her friends. On the other side of the pegasus, she could see Applejack slowly bringing a hoof to her mouth.

She looked ill.

Twilight tried to form a response but all that came out was a disjointed murmur. As she cleared her throat and began to speak, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Solaire was rising to his feet with the urgency of someone waking from an extremely restful nap. As he dusted off his knees and the back of his legs, he bent down to retrieve his spear before rising into a full-body stretch that reached from his boots all the way up to his outstretched arms.

“Well!” he exclaimed. “Perhaps I had an idea of what to expect but I’d be lying if I said that didn’t catch me off-guard!”

Halcyon let out a short chuckle. “Don’t feel too bad, Mister Solaire. Corporal Freeflow is one of the fastest spears in Canterlot. If I’m not mistaken, you can thank his mark for that incredible speed.”

He glanced toward the silent stallion. “What’s your talent again, Freebie?”

“Rapid acceleration, sir.”

“Rapid acceleration… right, of course. We’re all special under Celestia’s sun, but boy… if that’s not something to be proud of, I don’t know what is.”

As Halcyon prepared the next round, Twlight’s ears flicked toward the crunching of grass directly to her left.

“What the hay is rapid acceleration?” she heard Applejack whisper.

Rainbow Dash spoke first. “It means he can go fast in like, hardly any time at all. That’s what it means for pegasi anyway so I guess it goes for his magic, right, Twi?”

Twilight nodded, her brow furrowing. “Precisely.”

“So,” Applejack continued, “what does that mean?”

Twilight caught Applejack’s eye. “Well, look... considering that regulation rules state that the two contestants must be eight meters apart before the start of the match, Solaire is already at a disadvantage against a unicorn opponent. He has no ranged capabilities and nothing to defend himself with. And for a trained soldier, scoring points on such a vulnerable target should be foal’s play. Factor in the corporal’s talent, and well… I’m having a hard time picturing Solaire the winner of this match.”

Rainbow Dash and Applejack shared a look.

Before Twilight could continue, Lieutenant Halcyon conjured another red sphere between the two contestants. By some unspoken agreement, both Solaire and Corporal Freeflow readied their spears once more, the two contestants nodding their assent for the second bout’s countdown to begin.

Almost immediately, Twilight could sense a different air surrounding the human. Gone was his smile and unlike the previous match where his boots were like anchors in the dirt, Solaire’s stance now resembled that of a pegasus before takeoff.

Coiled. Springloaded.

Ready to leave the earth at a moment’s notice.

Twilight’s eyes widened.

“No way,” she whispered. “The first bout, he...”

Rainbow Dash looked her way. “What’s that, Twi?”

He wanted to get hit.

And then the orb turned green.

As if shot from a cannon, Freeflow’s spear closed the eight meter distance in the span of a second. It ripped through the air, howling as it went, the projectile of wood and blunted steel dead set on knocking its target into the dirt once again. Freeflow’s aim was perfect. It always was.

But somehow, on a sunny morning in that Canterlot courtyard, the spear that always hit its mark had missed.

Twilight managed to blink twice before her brain could even register what had happened. The sight before her—before them all—was one of confusion and disbelief. By all accounts, the attack Freeflow had launched should have been unavoidable. After all, one does not simply dodge lightning. But here was Solaire with a spear in each hand, one belonging to himself, the other his opponent, proving to all in the courtyard that lightning was indeed catchable.

Proving to all that he was an enigma.

A mystery.

Not of this world.

Twilight could only look on as Solaire rose out of his half-crouched stance. Almost by instinct, her gaze started taking in all the details as if what she were seeing was a sandcastle on the beach about to be washed away.

Solaire’s feet had shifted. That much was for certain judging by the large mound of displaced dirt that currently sat atop his boot. He had moved out of the way, swivelling his entire body to avoid the spear that was on a crash course with his chest. But instead of letting it sail by, he caught the tail-end of the projectile with his right hand, reaching across his torso in a manner impossible for ponies replicate.

Solaire’s voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence that followed.

“That was quick,” he uttered. “Faster than before even. But using the same attack against me was a mistake.”

Freeflow, for his part, was just as stunned as the rest of his companions. On cue, a choked noised burbled up from his throat when Solaire began his slow approach.

As if in deep thought, Solaire glanced down at the spears in his posession before looking Halcyon’s way. “A quick question, Lieutenant. Do I have to strike my opponent with my weapon to earn a point, or will either of these two suffice?”

****

Corporal Freeflow had lost. After being up one point, he lost the next two bouts in decisive fashion.

Twilight breathed in deep.

Decisive fashion. That was the only way she could describe it.

As for the other guards, it was as if an invisible switch had been pulled. They stood a little taller, a little stiffer, and the very air around them seemed ready to combust at the smallest spark.

Yes, Twilight thought. This unknown stranger who they had before regarded with respect and curiosity was now something else. A challenger. A competitor. Someone who had waltzed into their territory with a smile and a spear and had bested one of their own as if it were child’s play.

Yes, Twilight thought. They could see it now.

Solaire was an intruder—someone they weren’t so keen on letting get away with a win so easily.

Within a minute, the next match had started.

The guard after Freeflow had chosen a more conservative strategy, opting to counter Solaire’s strikes rather than initiate contact himself. After losing the first bout to a quick jab in the chest, Solaire seemed to always have counter-defense prepared. Whether it be with his weapon, his arms or his legs, it didn’t matter—anything that wasn’t his head or torso was used as a shield to deflect his opponent’s blows. In the end, Solaire’s defense proved to be stronger.

Or the more reckless, as Applejack had commented.

The next guard, a stallion light on his hooves, had chosen to exploit the very obvious advantage that all unicorns had over the visitor. When their first bout started, the stallion immediately leapt back, furthering the distance between the two fighters by an even greater amount. After being pushed back way too far, Solaire lost the first bout to a torrent of sweeping, long-ranged blows. As he brushed away the layer of dirt from his tunic’s sleeves, Twilight had more than an inkling of an idea as to how Solaire would approach the next match. As the red orb began pulsing between them once more, Solaire bent down, the muscles in his legs ready to explode into a sprint.

Dripping with sweat, the stallion later collapsed on the sidelines, two dents on the side of his helmet.

Twilight breathed out a sigh. She and her friends could only look on as Solaire accrued yet another win. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Applejack touching the brim of her hat with a hoof.

“What do you make of that, sugarcube?” She pointed her nose toward the growing clusters of congregating guards.

Both Rainbow Dash and Twilight followed the earth pony’s gaze.

“Looks like they’re talking strategy,” said the pegasus. “Can’t say I blame ‘em either. They just saw three of their buddies get thrashed like it was nothing.”

“Thrashed?” Applejack murmured. “That’s a little strong, don’t ya think? After all, those three did manage to win a point against him.”

Twilight looked toward the center of the field where Solaire and Lieutenant Halcyon were having a quiet chat. The stallion said something before gesturing toward Solaire’s hand, but the human just shrugged, presenting the palm in question as he bent and flexed each finger in turn.

His knuckles were purple and swollen.

“Those wins don’t matter,” Twilight began.

“How do you reckon?”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was absolutely certain, but… Solaire’s strategy? I know what it is." Twilight took a deep breath. “He sacrifices his body to learn more about who he’s facing.”

Rainbow Dash blinked. “Can you run that by us again?”

“He deliberately lost those first rounds just to know who he’s dealing with. Their speed, power, how they tend to fight—he gauged all that by, well… not caring if he got hit.” Twilight shook her head. “Well, let me rephrase. I guess he cares on some level. It’s not like he’s going out of his way to get hurt, but still. It’s as if he’s diminishing or outright blocking his sense of self-preservation. He might not have one at all.”

Applejack nodded slowly. “So what you’re saying, Twi, is that he doesn’t care because it doesn’t affect him.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “Because of his…”

“Right,” Twilight said, “because of his curse. I guess when you’re essentially immortal, you can stop worrying about what happens to your body. After all, what we know as the concept of death, it simply does not apply to him. His actions, as strange or insane or reckless as they might seem, they’re all things he can get away with.”

“Because he can’t die. Not really.” Applejack stared straight ahead, her eyes focused on something neither of them could see.

Twilight’s ears perked up. In her friend’s tone was something that urged her to remain silent, a strange melancholy that had burrowed deep within and had only now just surfaced.

The earth pony drew in a slow breath. “I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet, that I saw someone die not even twelve hours ago. It’s a little strange, innit? I watched as this poor fella bled out in front of me and I couldn’t say a darn thing. No words of comfort… assurance. Nothin’.”

A faint laugh floated toward their ears. It could only have belonged to Solaire.

“I ain’t even had time to sort through my thoughts when I hear that this fella wasn’t dead anymore. Woke up as if from a nap, crackin’ jokes as if it were the most natural thing to do after up and rising from the grave. And then we hear Solaire’s story, and well…”

Twilight searched across her friend’s face, looking for any sign of emotion. Applejack simply frowned.

“I’m not one to be spooked easily, girls, but Twi? What you told us in that conference room downright chilled me to the bone. I mean, have you looked—and I mean looked real good—at what Solaire’s bein’ here means?”

Twilight pursed her lips. “That there are other worlds out there.”

“And the world Solaire comes from; the one still linked to ours? All we know is that it’s a horrible place filled to the brim with crazed monsters who can’t be killed. Can’t be stopped. Monsters who done lost their minds and can’t stop searchin’ for the one thing they don’t got no more.”

Applejack looked away. “Solaire said it himself. They lost their souls and you just proved that everyone’s got one, Twi. Me. You. The Princesses. Everypony. And if Solaire could come here… I ain’t got to spell out what could happen next.”

Rainbow Dash took a cautious step forward. “Whoa, hey. You’re not saying that—”

“I’m not sayin’ that that’s gonna happen for sure, sugarcube. But what I am sayin’ is that if I were to sit myself down right now and look at the facts, everything he’s told us is gonna start makin’ sense. It might all sink in, and that...” her voice grew quiet, “...that scares the hay out of me.”

High above, the sun continued its slow ascent across the sky. Twilight shut her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with warm summer air. She could hear the quiet murmurs of the guards but the words were indiscernible as if they were spoken through a filter attached to the end of a long pipe.

It had been twenty four hours. Twenty four hours since she last slept.

“I’m scared too,” Twilight began. “Believe me on that, Applejack. Even now, I don’t think I could rest easy knowing all that we know. And until all this has been resolved, I… I don’t know what to think anymore. We just have to believe that the princesses are doing all that they can. Doing what’s best for us.”

In the center of the courtyard, Solaire continued his chat with the lieutenant. Words were uttered and the pair broke into a fresh bout of chuckles and amused grins. As the laughter died down, Solaire glanced in their direction, his eyes lingering for a moment longer before he raised a hand and waved.

Twilight swallowed away the lump in her throat. “In two days he’ll be gone. He’ll go back home and all this will just become a bad memory.”

A strange silence fell over the three mares as they watched the scene unfold before them. The guards had chosen Solaire’s next challenger—a steel-faced stallion who, with steady steps, entered the imaginary circle.

"Hey, Twi,” came Rainbow Dash’s voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you think he gets to smile like that where he comes from?"

“W… what?” Twilight looked toward the pegasus.

“Forget it,” said Rainbow. “I just remembered that I promised Pinkie that I’d help her set up the party, so yeah... I’ve gotta jet.”

Applejack quirked a brow. “You’re leavin’? But I thought you wanted to hang out with Solaire.”

“Plenty of time for that later, cowpony. Besides, if I stick around any longer I might say something uncool. So I’ll just leave you two with this.”

Rainbow locked eyes with the unicorn. “I hadn’t pegged you as the ‘giving up’ type, Twi. You say leave it to the princesses but you wanna know what I think?” She unfurled her wings. “It doesn’t suit you sitting on the side like this. Being scared isn’t a reason to start now.”

Before any of the two could get a word in, Rainbow Dash shot into the air, leaving behind nothing but a gust of wind as her distant form disappeared behind the tall white walls of the castle.

Heads craned over their shoulders, Twilight and Applejack stared at the same spot of wall that their friend had just flown over, but as they both lowered their gazes something caught their attention.

Standing in the darkened doorway to the castle proper was a familiar grey stallion, a Royal Guard helmet tucked between the crook of his right foreleg. He stared out into the courtyard, his eyes making slow, painstaking sweeps as if he were a teacher supervising recess.

“I’ve seen that stallion before,” Applejack whispered. “He was one of the ponies that took Solaire’s body away last night.”

“I’m not surprised he was there,” Twilight whispered back. “That’s Captain Rook and apparently the princesses put a lot of trust in him. He was already in the room when, uh… when Princess Celestia and I arrived to perform the autopsy.”

Applejack snorted. “Obviously that never happened.”

“Yeah, right?”

“But what’s he doin’ here?” Applejack asked. “You don’t think he’s gonna… fight Solaire, do ya? Fight him out of some sort code of honor? A pride thing? I mean, look. Ponies under his command are gettin’ whooped into next Thursday. If this keeps up…”

Twilight shook her head. “He’s not going to fight Solaire. Captain Rook knows just as much about the situation as we do, and any sane pony who’s in the know is not going to want anything to do with our guest... let alone fight the guy.”

“And yet here we are.”

Twilight let out a puff of air. “Besides, word is that Princess Luna likes having the captain around. So much so that she’s assigned him as, well, a chaperone of sorts.”

“A chaperone? Sounds like the princess is just yankin’ him around.”

“Maybe,” Twilight said with a shrug. “But what can you do? It doesn’t matter how silly it is, no guardspony would shirk a royal order.”

Applejack’s eyes slowly widened.

“So what you’re sayin’ is, Twi, is that if the captain is here, then so is th—”

She was never able to finish her sentence because in that exact moment, every single guard in the courtyard pivoted toward the doorway behind them and snapped crisp, simultaneous salutes. All of three seconds passed before the guards dropped their hooves and, as one, dipped their heads to the ground.

Twilight had lived in the castle long enough to know the basics of military etiquette: salutes were for commanding officers.

And bows were for the princesses.

As Twilight turned around, she already knew who she would see. Standing next to Captain Rook was none other than Princess Luna, the dark blues of her coat blending in with the shadows of the castle interior.

Without a word, Princess Luna stepped into the light of day.

Twilight could only blink at the sight before her. In direct sunlight, it was as if a black veil had been lifted from the princess’ form and her true colors were allowed to shine through. Her coat’s blues were richer, her crown and torc gave off a brilliant, iridescent glow, and the very stars in her mane shimmered with a newfound intensity as if they were tiny flecks of diamond amidst a sea of obsidian-colored sand.

For a long moment, Twilight tried to recall the last time she’d seen Princess Luna outside in the sun like this, but no memory came to the surface.

Is this really the first time? Twilight thought.

So caught up in her musings, she hadn’t noticed that the guards had formed a long, single line in the center of the field. They stood shoulder to shoulder, each offering a small bow when the princess calmly strolled by.

When she passed the sixth guard however, Princess Luna came to a stop and regarded the stallion with a sideward glance.

“How did your son do on his entrance exams?” she asked in a straight voice.

The guard’s eyes widened for a split second.

“V-very well, Your Majesty. Full marks across the board.”

Luna gave a small nod. “I am glad to hear the good news. He had been fretting about it all last week and I was wondering why I have not had to visit him recently. I suppose it never occurred to me that the test’s date had come and gone.” She nodded again. “Very good.”

The guard quirked a brow. “If I may, Your Highness, but ‘visiting’?”

“His dreams, Sergeant, or to be more precise: his nightmares.”

“Nightmares? I… I had no idea.”

“Cast aside your doubts,” said Luna. “Do you recall telling your own father about every troubling dream and nightmare you might have had?”

At this, the guard’s worried expression softened into relief. He offered the princess a nod and a small smile as she continued on her way.

Three guards later, she came to an abrupt stop.

“What was her response?” Luna voiced into open air.

The stallion to her immediate left looked as if his heart had leapt into his throat. His eyes bulged and his mouth shifted about as if it were stuffed with marbles. But even then, he managed to croak out a meek, “she said ‘yes’.”

“Oh?” Luna tilted her head in the stallion’s direction. “The chocolates were the right choice then.”

The poor guard’s face had at some point flushed itself into angry shade of pink.

“Y-y-y-your Majesty, I—”

Luna held up a hoof, a smirk playing across her lips. “I think that’s all the confirmation I need, Private. For what it’s worth, I’m glad it went well.”

Without looking back, the princess pressed on, gliding from one guard to the next with nary a glance towards those she was passing.

Twilight turned away from the spectacle, instead focusing on the two figures at the end of the column. Lieutenant Halcyon stood in line just like the rest of his charges but there was a strange weightiness in his eyes as if he were expecting to hear a loud bang that had not yet come. Standing several paces away in the center of the field was Solaire, hovering about in a zone of uncertainty like a colt who had forgotten his lines during a play.

For a split second, Twilight wanted to call out to him but the deafening silence in the courtyard had glued her throat shut. With a flick of her eyes, she turned back toward Princess Luna who was steadily making her way to the end of the line. Much to the relief of the guards, she hadn’t stopped again.

As Twilight tried analyzing Princess Luna’s stony expression, she felt something nudge her in the ribs.

“You reckon the lieutenant’s gonna get chewed out?” whispered Applejack in her ear. “He looks awful serious. Both of ‘em do.”

“I don’t know,” Twilight whispered back, “but I don’t think Princess Luna came out here just to socialize.”

“She’s done plenty of that already.”

Twilight’s lips formed a thin line. “Then there’s more than one item on her agenda.”

As expected, Princess Luna had words for Lieutenant Halcyon. She stopped just in front of him and regarded the stallion with a flick of her eyes.

“Well?” she asked. “How is he doing?”

Halcyon took a moment to respond. “Your Majesty?”

“Solaire. The Karkaryan diplomat. You officiated his matches, yes? How has he performed so far?”

A strange air surrounded the lieutenant as he met Princess Luna’s gaze. He blinked once and then twice before his mouth split into a small frown.

“How is Solaire doing?” Halcyon repeated. “Well, Princess, he’s physically strong, he’s faster than he looks, and has the reflexes to match that of a griffon’s. Not to mention that he knows his way around a weapon, doesn’t seem to acknowledge pain and has adapted to everything we’ve thrown at him… so yes, Princess. I’d say that Solaire is doing just fine.”

“Those are general impressions, Lieutenant. I want to hear what you think."

Halcyon remained silent for the better part of three seconds.

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” he said in a quiet tone.

Luna gave a slow nod and for the first time looked Solaire’s way.

“Did you hear that, Solaire? In the eyes of Canterlot’s finest, you’re quite skilled. A force to be reckoned with. A potential threat, but…” Luna smirked, “...they don’t know the half of it, do they?”

The human remained unmoving, a sober expression on his face. All the while, Luna stalked forward on silent hooves, not making a single sound as she drew closer and closer.

Twilight could only watch as Luna came to a stop just out of Solaire’s reach.

“How fare thee?” Luna asked suddenly. “Have you sustained any injuries that would prevent you from fighting further?”

Solaire shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, Princess. It’s nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“Very good,” was all Luna said.

Her horn took light, filling the courtyard with the faint hum of magic. Before Twilight could guess the spell being cast, Princess Luna pulled a training spear from thin air and planted its base into the dirt with a resounding thump.

All eyes turned toward the pair.

“Then I will be your next opponent,” said the princess.

Helm of Thorns

“Helm of Kirk, knight of Thorns and notorious member of the Darkwraiths. A dense patch of thorns grows from its surface.”

Author's Note

To KitsuneRisu: smiling singing dancing all my ~~life~~ love
To my readers: *engage Jack Bauer voice* "Kept you waiting, huh?"

Chapter Six - A Sanctuary, If You Will

With one final flap of her wings, Rainbow Dash touched down on the balcony of Celestia’s tower. The flight there had been a quick but quiet one, the sounds of the waking city below just barely audible over the wind whistling by her ears. She took a moment to steady herself, shaking out each leg in turn but midway through her ritual she caught sight of a small, peculiar fire in the center of the balcony.

Already, Rainbow Dash knew what it was.

“The portal to another world,” as Twilight had tried to explain some hours ago when the sky was still dark and the sun had not yet risen.

His world.

Solaire’s world.

As if on cue, the flame swayed back and forth as if sensing a morning breeze that only it could feel.

Rainbow Dash narrowed her eyes. The longer she focused on the fire’s twisting tendrils, its hypnotic dance, the way it burned nothing with neither a pop or crack, the more she could understand why Twilight had described the flame as unnatural.

Rainbow allowed herself a small grin. And I thought this whole gala weekend thing was gonna be boring.

With a spring in her step, she moved past the small flame and slowed to a slight stop in front of the twin glass doors that led into the tower proper. Inside, she could see a large wooden desk, aged and well-worn, though its surface was clear of any document or parchment.

Explains why no one has tried to stop me from going in yet, Rainbow thought. No use in guarding an empty room.

And the room was empty. As she pulled open the leftmost door and stepped inside, the first thing she noticed was the walls, clean and whitewashed as if she had just entered a hospital room rather than the princess’ office.

“I don’t think she comes up here much,” said a voice.

In an instant, Rainbow caught sight of her friend casually leaning against a doorway she hadn’t seen on her way in.

The pegasus let out a half-hearted snort and let her face melt into a smile. “Pinkie, you scared the hay out of me.”

Pinkie Pie matched her expression. “Oops? I think? I heard you bumbling around up here so I thought I’d come give you a proper welcome to Casa de Celestia.”

“Casa what? No, wait, hold up. How did you even hear me? I mean, I just got here like ten seconds ago and I doubt somepony who was on the balcony could hear me land.”

“I know, right?”

Rainbow blinked. “Forget I asked. Just… do you still need my help with this thing? Banners to put up, streamers to hang? That sort of deal?”

“Nope!” Pinkie said with a victorious shake of her head. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be coming so I went ahead and started on all the fun bits myself. By the time I realized, everything was already finished! Honestly, it was like ‘huh, when did all this stuff get here?’”

Pinkie looked as if she were seriously contemplating the magnitude of her own party-making skills when she perked up into her usual self.

“I could use your help with one eensy little thing though,” Pinkie said. “Follow me!”

Pinkie swivelled on her hooves and hopped through the doorway she had been standing in.

Rainbow followed suit with a shrug and a sigh and passed through the door’s threshold in a couple of hurried strides. In the next room, a spiral staircase winded downward, each step accommodating for the round curvature of the tower. As Rainbow made her way down, she gave a cursory glance to each of the paintings lining the walls–the landscapes of exotic, far-off places that she couldn’t name and the portraits of stuffy-looking ponies who, judging by their frozen-in-time expressions, appeared as if they’d suck the life out of any room they walked into. After reading the plaque of the third portrait she came upon, Rainbow Dash guessed that most if not all of the subjects had long since passed away.

She faced forward, focusing instead on where she was placing her hooves. Further down and around the bend, Rainbow could just make out the clipped beat of Pinkie’s hoofsteps intermingling with her own. When the echo stopped, Rainbow quickened her pace down the stairs.

She finally caught sight of Pinkie standing in the center of a staircase landing several steps down, a slightly ajar door to the earth pony’s immediate left. With nothing else for it, Rainbow finished the last steps with a lazy flap of her wings and gently landed next to her friend.

Pinkie beamed back at her. “Hey-o, slowpoke. What kept’cha?”

Rainbow answered with a roll of her eyes, instead turning toward the half-open doorway.

“So this is his room?” Rainbow asked.

“Yep! Well, if you wanna get super-technical about it, it’s Celestia’s room because this is Celestia’s tower and it sort of makes sense that everything inside would belong to her, right? But then I got to thinking… if I’m throwing a party inside that door right there, then that also makes it a party room… right? Right?”

“Er… yeah, I guess s–”

“But then whose party is it?” Pinkie cried out. “Is it Sully’s? Is it Celestia’s? Is it no one’s party because no one’s been up here for the past three days and eighteen hours? I mean, listen to this, Rainbow Dash. There’s a plant in there, a cute little ficus, that hasn’t been watered in the past three days and eighteen hours.”

Rainbow’s left eyelid gave a small twitch.

“Three days and eighteen hours,” Pinkie repeated.

Rainbow sighed. “Okay. One thing at a time here. First of all, who in the hay is Sully?”

“Sully? Solaire? Keep up with me here, Rainbow Dee. This is serious stuff.”

Rainbow just blinked back at her. “Second of all, Pinks, you’re kinda freakin’ out on me here. Like… whoa. Seriously, you’re right below a ‘Twilight-level’ freakout right now. If you go up one more level, you’ll be right there and seriously, Pinks, if you’re gonna go ‘Twilight’ on me you better say something right now because I am not equipped to handle that kind of situation.”

The two ponies just stared at each other in complete silence.

Two seconds passed.

Then three.

Then five.

Then there, barely imperceptible, appeared the faintest hint of a grin on Pinkie’s lips.

Then on Rainbow’s.

Then not even a second later, the pair morphed into a tangle of limbs and laughter, their broken giggles and half-formed words babbling into the shoulder of the other.

Eventually the two separated when the mirth finally died down.

Rainbow Dash gestured toward the door and said, “So if everything’s already set up, what do you need my help with?”

Pinkie’s smile fell slightly.

“We-ell,” she said, drawing out the word, “I need to know what you think.”

Without further explanation, Pinkie gently pushed the door open.

As Rainbow stepped forward and gazed inside, the first thought that crossed her mind was one of confusion. All the unmistakable signs of a party were there–the cake, the chairs, the table covered with snacks and upturned plastic cups. But the closer she looked, the more she realized what was absent. The wacky games, the giant, festive banners, even the bright, loud colors that Rainbow associated so much with her friend, all not there.

She worked her mouth noiselessly before the words finally came out. "Pinkie, it's, uh…”

“Different, right?”

“Y… yeah. Different."

Rainbow caught sight of Pinkie standing by the refreshment table, an unidentifiable expression on the earth pony’s face as she gave the room a cursory glance.

"It's just that I was thinking," Pinkie began, “about all the other parties I've thrown. I mean, most of them are the same thing… catchy music, a lot of tasty, delicious treats and good friends from all over town."

“Well, yeah, but that’s only on the surface, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve seen how much work you put into each one. it’s crazy. You’ve gotta find out what’s their favorite flavor of cake, their favorite color, what kind of presents they’re maybe wanting and everything else, all with them not finding out what you’re up to!”

Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “What'dya mean by ‘everything else’?”

“You know, like how Rarity can’t have peanuts or she gets all swollen or like how Carrot Top’s always going on about how much she hates apples but everypony knows that she secretly loves them.” Rainbow shrugged. “That kind of thing.”

Pinkie said nothing for several seconds, instead moving for the large, circular table in the center of the room. She sat at one of its chairs and, elbows on the table, chin in her hooves, she stared at the ceiling.

“I didn’t know you were paying so much attention."

“Give me some credit, Pinks. I’ve helped you enough times to know how much you care.” Rainbow pulled up a chair of her own and sat three seats away from her friend. “And I absolutely know that you’re worried about this one.”

Pinkie met her gaze. “This is the right thing, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t have done it any other way,” Rainbow said with a reassuring nod. “After breakfast this morning you realized it too, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“His smile was the biggest when he was listening to your story, and this–” Rainbow tapped the empty table with a hoof, gestured to the modestly-decorated room with a flick of her eyes, “–this is the the perfect place to tell some stories.”

Pinkie’s grin slowly spread.

“You think Sully will wanna tell a few of his own?” Pinkie asked.

“Of course! And between the six- no… seven of us, I guarantee you, Pinks, we’ll be talking long into the night. I mean, for Celestia’s sake, we know nothing about him and he practically knows nothing about us. Seriously, Pinks, if we weren’t here, you and I both know that Twilight would just keep asking him questions about his curse or whatever. He’d never get a chance to just... y’know, sit down and relax.”

They remained like that for a long moment, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

Rainbow had just counted her eleventh tile on the ceiling when Pinkie’s voice cut through the silence.

“How are they getting along by the way?” she asked.

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 6 - A Sanctuary, If You Will

The quiet in the barracks courtyard was thick and palpable as if every living soul within a hundred meter radius had stopped breathing. Chief among them were the two-dozen guards clad in shimmering, golden armor, standing stock-still in a dumbfounded stupor. Not that Twilight Sparkle could blame them, of course. There were no rules for this. No regulations for when one of your princesses suddenly challenges a foreign ambassador to a game of ‘who can hit the other more times with a sharp stick’.

“So there it is,” Princess Luna began, “do you accept my challenge or are you content with beating on those who do not fully understand what you are?”

Even from her spot more than several strides away, Twilight could still see the small smile that bloomed across Solaire’s face.

“It would be an honor to fight with you,” Solaire said. “But if I may, Princess, you don’t strike me as someone who gives anything less than their best. Out of concern for those watching, perhaps we should–“

Luna’s voice snapped out like a whip.

“Perhaps we should what, Knight Solaire? Give this contest any less than our all? Do you think me a frail, spoiled and pampered little girl who upon chipping a hoof, limps away with tears in her eyes? Doubtless that you fear hurting me but you will quickly find that I am more resilient than I look,” she paused, "and perhaps more than a touch skilled than you perceive me to be.”

Twilight felt Applejack nudge her in the ribs.

The earth pony leaned in close and whispered, “Y’reckon there’s some substance to those words?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight whispered back. “There’s so much we don’t know about Princess Luna. Actual historical documents from that time are… nonexistent to say the least, and she’s not exactly running off to the Canterlot Sun to shed some light on her past. It’s been years and she’s still Equestria’s biggest mystery.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is that you have no idea what’s about to happen.”

“Oh, trust me,” Twilight finished. “I’ve got some idea.”

Only a second had passed after they turned their attention back to the conversation did Princess Luna let out a very loud, very abrupt, “Hah!”

The training spear in her magic grip twirled lazy circles above her head.

“You are very brave to say such things, Knight Solaire. Now I won’t feel so bad when I claim this match as mine.” She turned to the circle of guards behind her.

“Lieutenant!” barked the princess. “You will officiate our battle. Not that it’s necessary, but my sister has been insistent that I follow at least some level of decorum.”

“Stars help me,” muttered Lieutenant Halcyon as he stepped forward. “Before you two start wailing on each other, I must ask if your Majesty is aware of the rules we follow here.”

“I have been nothing if not observant of the games my sister’s subjects play at. You compete for points and the only way to obtain them is by striking your opponent on either the head or chest. The first to accrue the designated amount is declared the winner. ‘Best of three’, I think was the phrase you kept bandying about.”

Halcyon let out a puff of air. “Then you know. I suppose there’s nothing left to do but begin.”

The lieutenant’s horn sparked to life and all eyes were drawn to the red orb of magic floating high in the air between Solaire and Luna.

“Oh boy,” Applejack whispered, already wincing.

In Twilight’s mind however, the apprehension she had been feeling only moments before had given way to a series of startling realizations. The first of which was that she, Applejack, and a small smattering of guards would soon be the only ponies of the modern era to have seen Princess Luna in any kind of physical fight.

There were stories of course. Stories that had been passed down from century to century, each retelling blurring the lines between fact and fiction past the point that whatever may have happened over a millennium ago would only ever be truly known by those who have lived it. But despite this, all versions of the legendary Midnight Mare portrayed her as a peerless warrior, a dark angel who rose up into blood-red skies to combat the savage griffon tribes, towering ancient dragons and the eldritch horrors of old.

The final realization caused Twilight to bite her lip.

“I should have brought my notes,” she whispered just as the magic orb turned green.

****

From the moment she had entered the courtyard, Solaire knew that Princess Luna was here for one thing. The intensity behind the princess’ eyes, the fiery gaze that bespoke of her desire to fight was poorly veiled, if intended to be hidden at all. Formalities were quickly dispensed and barely a minute later, the good lieutenant was already counting down for the match to begin.

Solaire himself had been expecting to lose but what he could not know was the manner in which he would be defeated. The knight stood as stiff as a board, the spear that was once in his hands now levitating directly in front of his face, its dull iron tip pressed firmly against the bridge of his nose.

“One to zero,” Princess Luna said, her horn’s glow winking out the moment his spear began to fall.

Solaire caught his weapon on the way down. “You snatched it right out of my grip.”

“Indeed I did.”

“Very effective. I’m surprised the others hadn’t tried such a tactic earlier.”

“Perhaps they thought it dishonorable,” Luna said with a shrug. “But I am not above such things. Many a time, such sentimentality is the final determining factor between victories and defeats. You of all people should know that.”

Luna cocked her head to the side. “Or maybe you don’t. Tell me, with no magic field of your own, what is to stop me from turning your weapon against you a second time?”

Solaire dropped into his stance. “You caught me off guard. I guarantee you, Princess, it won’t happen again.”

“We shall see.” Luna nodded toward the lieutenant, and soon, another red orb was floating above the competitors.

Solaire drew in a steady breath. Eight meters away his opponent stood and she held every possible advantage. With a thought he squeezed away the dull ache in his bruised knuckles and shut out all unnecessary sound. A clear mind was needed for this. A clear mind and even faster actions.

The orb turned green and in an instant, Solaire burst into a sprint. The distance between them wasn’t far. He could easily close the gap in a few mere seconds, but it may as well have been an eternity when a stoic-faced Princess Luna was waiting on the other side.

Solaire just barely noticed the almost imperceptible flash that came off Luna’s horn. Without a second thought he threw all of his weight into his leading leg, kicking up a great cloud of dust as he spun to the side. Not even an instant had passed when her spear ripped through the space where he had been moments before. Solaire’s eyes narrowed and with a powerful pump of his legs, he shot forward once again, his own spear aimed at the blue pony just a few steps away.

Disrupt her balance, he thought, and years upon years upon years of swinging a weapon was brought on display as he cleaved a wide, sweeping arc aimed at Luna’s legs. Just as anticipated, the princess leapt into the air. It was a small hop but even still, Solaire knew that even the flightiest of opponents can be trapped with gravity. He allowed himself a smile as he lined up the finishing blow with the descending princess’ chest.

As he lunged forward, Solaire could feel the tingle of magic on his skin, could see the glow on Luna’s horn, and he could hear the wind cut in two as his spear parted through nothing but air. He looked down and noticed the blue glow enveloping his weapon, and there, off to the side and just out of arm’s reach, Princess Luna landed on light legs, already in mid-pivot.

Solaire clenched his teeth as two rear hooves slammed square into his chest. The world became a whirlwind of crushing pain and blurred images and in the next instant, Solaire found himself staring up at blue skies, sprawled out on his back several feet away.

Through the ringing in his ears he heard Princess Luna’s approach. She appeared a moment later, looking down at him with a smirk and victorious eyes.

“Two to zero,” she announced. “It appears I have won.”

Lieutenant Halcyon cleared his throat. “Uh, actually, your Majesty, we don’t technically count… kicks, as winning blows. Powerful though your legs may be, the final strike must be–“

Luna sighed and tapped the fallen knight with her spear.

“There,” she said. “That should appease your rules.”

****

Twilight’s mouth slowly opened. Kicks weren’t anything new. Kicks have been around for as long as ponies have had hooves, but what she had just witnessed was unlike anything she had ever seen. The massive explosion of energy driven straight into another being, there wasn’t a wasted movement. There wasn’t any caution.

No restraint.

Twilight could still hear the dull whop of hooves on flesh echoing in her mind. She looked to the side and caught Applejack’s morbid expression.

“That buck would’ve uprooted one of my trees,” Applejack whispered. The earth pony faced forward, meeting Twilight’s eyes with a sidelong glance. “What is she doin’ here, Twi? What’s she tryin’ to prove?”

Before Twilight could answer, she heard Solaire sucked in a sharp gasp of air. They both watched in shock as the knight staggered to his feet and let out a low chuckle.

“Quite a kick,” he said, smiling. “If you had hit me any harder, I suspect you would have chopped me clean in half!”

A thin line of red dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“He’s bleedin’,” Applejack murmured.

“Internal hemorrhage,” Twilight whispered back. “He needs a doctor. The state he’s in now, he can’t–“

“I’d like to fight with you again,” Solaire said, brushing the dust off his knees. “I am not yet squashed, Princess."

“But you are injured,” said Luna. “If I had come to play, then I would have played.”

“Then what was that before?” Solaire said with a smile.

A thick silence draped itself over the courtyard. All around her, Twilight noticed the wide-eyed expressions of the guards, the almost collective intake of air at the slight that had just been hurled their princess’ way.

“Very well, then,” Luna finally said. “Truthfully, I expected that it would come to this. You don’t strike me as one who quits when the, ah… 'going gets good', as they say these days. Tell me then, Knight, what is your weapon of choice?”

“If possible, a sword,” Solaire replied.

Luna turned toward the lieutenant.

“Er…” Halcyon licked his lips. “Swords are available your Majesty, but… they’re in the armory. They are kept as sharp as serpent’s teeth."

“Fetch them,” Luna said.

“Your M–"

“Fetch them."

Without another word, Halcyon dipped his head into a slight bow and started toward the small cobblestone shack at the other end of the courtyard. Twilight could sense the unease in the air as the rest of the guards watched their lieutenant shrink into the distance.

“As for the rest of you,” Luna started again, “if you wish to return to your duties, then you are permitted to leave. I shan’t keep you here to observe a battle that you have no stake in."

One of the guards stepped forward. “With all due respect, your Majesty, we are sworn to protect the ponies of Equestria. That includes you.”

“You fear for my safety?"

“We fear him,” said the guard, pointing his horn at the single figure to Luna’s left.

The princess turned to the knight, who raised up slightly when he noticed the two-dozen pairs of eyes pointed his way.

Luna nodded slowly. “Solaire. Will you be doing everything in your power to do me harm?"

Twilight didn’t miss the almost instantaneous glance that Solaire shot her way.

He cleared his throat. “I will. Yes. It would be doing you a great disservice if I were to approach this battle with anything less than my all. But I must stress, Princess, that if you feel that your life is in any mortal danger at all, that you get away from me as quickly as possible."

“Oh? Then pray tell, Sir Knight, how would I manage that in the midst of our duel?"

“Your wings are far too pretty to be merely ornamentation,” said Solaire.

Luna stared at him for a long moment.

“Very well,” she began. “If you can force me to use my wings then I will concede the victory to you."

Solaire rubbed a knuckle against his chin. “Then what are the conditions for my defeat?"

“Giving up,” Luna said. “The instant you lay down your arms is the instant I become the winner. And before you ask, no. I will not magically manipulate your weapon or anything of the sort. You must lay it down of your own volition."

“I’m a stubborn, old fool, Princess.” Solaire directed his gaze to the far side of the courtyard. “You’ll grow old before I give up."

Twilight followed Solaire’s eyes and there she saw the distant form of Lieutenant Halcyon, the stallion exiting armory with two swords in tow. The summer sun glinting off his armor, he shut the door with a backwards kick and started making his way back to the group. Soon, the lieutenant was standing before both Princess Luna and Solaire, and with a grim expression he extended a shining, silver sword to each of them.

Solaire took his with a nod and a hum, but as Princess Luna’s horn lit up, the lieutenant pulled the sword away ever so slightly.

“Your Majesty, please. Allow me to dull the blades."

Luna looked the stallion up and down. “Lieutenant Halcyon, correct?"

“Your Majesty?"

“I have learned very recently that ponies of all ages and genders are allowed something called ‘fun’. Do you know what fun is, Lieutenant?"

“I do, Your Majesty."

“Then why are you attempting to take away my fun? Is a princess any less entitled to fun than you are?" Luna raised a brow.

Halcyon blinked. “Your Majesty, I am all for fun but this is dangerous."

“Dangerous,” Luna repeated.

“Yes. Dangerous."

Luna pressed a hoof to her chin, looked skyward for a brief moment before turning her gaze back onto the lieutenant.

“Your Majesty, the swords are sharp. I feel that I will have failed in my duties if I do not at least try–"

Luna raised a hoof and looked past the lieutenant towards Solaire, who was in the middle of a series of practice swings.

“Knight Solaire!” she called out. “How do you feel about the swords?"

“Hm? Oh.” Solaire brought the pommel up to his face and gazed down the sword’s length. “It’s a fine piece of steel. Expertly crafted, feels good in the hand. It’s a touch out of balance but no sword is ever perfect. I suspect it will serve well enough for what’s to come."

“Ah. Yes, they are indeed fine weapons,” said Luna, “but if I may inquire, what are your thoughts on the blade’s edge?"

Solaire frowned.

“Could be sharper."

“And there you have it,” Luna said, turning back to Lieutenant Halcyon. “The swords do not bother him and the swords do not bother me. Why under Celestia’s sun should they bother you?"

Halcyon’s throat bobbed up and down.

“And I say this to all of you,” announced Luna to the rest of the guards. “If you are so upset by my actions then I plead you, go report them to my sister. She may even reward you with a chuckle and a pat on the head. But know this: if you leave now, you may miss it."

Luna took one step, and then two. The sword in Halcyon’s grasp, once held by a green glow, was overwhelmed by calm swirls of blue and teal. Princess Luna pointed the sword out in front of her, the blade leveling at her opponent’s chest. Solaire and Luna’s eyes met, and Twilight could only guess as to what words were exchanged in that silent, unspoken conversation.

They started forward.

Between them, Lieutenant Halcyon backed away, his gaze darting to and fro between the two approaching figures. As Solaire and Luna drew closer and closer, their steps slowed and the crowd’s breath slowed and all the world came to a standstill as two silver swords lashed out and collided in a shower of sparks and a spine-shivering clang.

An instant passed.

But in that instant, Twilight Sparkle caught a glimpse of Solaire’s face and she saw Luna’s eyes and the pair became a blur once more and clashed again.

And again.

And again.

Twilight stood in awe.

Their swords were conductor's batons and their symphony was the sharp whistling of wind parting in two. They moved like water around rocks in a streambed–never stopping and never slowing down. A jab-step here, a quick turn there, a short hop to the side but never once flowing in the opposite direction, never once pulling away from the other. Their strikes came as fast and as relentless as the steps of their dance, a synchronous give and take of pulse-pounding parries and blocks, stabs and thrusts and slashes and hacks that always met metal but never cut flesh.

Solaire and Luna were evenly matched.

And Twilight stood in awe.

****

As he had learned long ago, an opponent’s range was only as long as the combined length of his weapon and arm. But now, as Luna’s disembodied sword cleaved the air where his neck had been only a split second prior, Solaire had grasped the fact that he was in for a wholly disorienting experience. The princess stood only a few steps away but just out of reach as if daring him to edge closer. She wore a blank face as the glowing sword in her control floated back to its owner’s side and like a snake, snapped out once more in a whiplash of bisected air.

A quick flick of his blade deflected the blow harmlessly to the side, but just as quickly, Luna’s sword had closed the distance and lashed out again and again in a torrential flood of sharp-edged steel.

Solaire winced as a particularly powerful blow came to a shuddering, ear-ringing stop just inches from the side of his head. Grunting, he forced away the floating sword with a shove of his own and finally took a step back. His chest heaved and his lungs burned but as he studied Luna’s face, saw the bead of sweat drip down into her brow, Solaire couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Luna replied with a scowl. She stepped after him and immediately launched into her next barrage of slashes and strikes. Muscle memory kicked in and Solaire weaved out of the first blow’s way before catching the follow-up swing with the guard of his sword. Again, he shoved away floating blade and took not one, but several steps back.

Solaire held in a chuckle when he saw Luna’s expression darken by the slightest amounts. She stalked forward on slow, deliberate legs and came to a stop as soon as she reached that same familiar distance from before.

“So you do have a range,” said the knight.

Luna shook her head. “Enough talk.” And the sword hovering at her side went horizontal with the sound of shivering steel and like a cannon shot, ripped through the air on a blue burst of energy.

Solaire stepped to the side, her attack a mere blur as it passed just to his left. Not even a second after, equal parts intuition and experience pulled a single knee to the ground the same moment Luna’s sword carved a wide, arcing slash at the now-empty space his chest had just occupied.

No time to gloat, he thought, and a cloud of dust was kicked up in his wake as he surged toward the princess with a single, powerful pump of his legs.

Luna’s brow lowered. Her nostrils flared.

Solaire tightened his grip. He pulled his sword arm back.

Use your wings, he thought as his sword came crashing down like lightning straight at the princess’ head. But in that small, insubstantial moment between a hummingbird’s heartbeat, his blade collided with nothing in a thundercrack of heat and noise. Vibrations ran up his limb as if he had just struck a wall of anvils but there was only Luna, the small gap of air between his sword and her neck, and there, the vague glimpses of a blue, near-invisible sphere.

Solaire’s eyes widened when he saw the brightening glow of Luna’s horn. He staggered back when the shockwave of the exploding sphere slammed into his body, and he could only watch in resigned horror as Luna, already in mid-pivot, let fly two rapidly approaching rear hooves.

****

Yet again, the effects of the kick were devastating. Everyone heard the snapping of bone. Everyone listened to Solaire’s pained gasps as he scrabbled to his feet, and everyone saw the pulverized lump of flesh that now hung limp from within the sleeve of his jerkin. It was as if his forearm had been replaced with a deboned fish and for a split second, Twilight was reminded of the brass pendulum in that big clock at her parents’ house, the way his left arm swang back and forth in a place that, Twilight was sure, wasn’t supposed to be swinging back and forth.

“Nope,” said Applejack. “Uh-uh. When I said I was gonna keep you company, Twi, I didn’t think that I’d have t–"

“Did you see that?” Twilight whispered.

“Huh?"

“That was a Grade Four forcefield conjured in the blink of an eye. Instantaneous, just… absolutely spectacular. And the speed at which she collapsed its structure, I've–"

“Well?” voiced Princess Luna from the center of the grounds. She faced Solaire, whose back was now to the spectating crowd. “Tell me, Sir Knight, do you still intend to fight me with a mangled limb? You have one arm. You can barely stand. Even your grip is weakening. It is over. Let the sword go."

Silence dominated the courtyard when, as if in answer, Solaire reached across his body with his good arm and, against all expectations, somehow managed to wrestle his sword into the hand of his destroyed limb. His left arm immediately sagged under the weight and the blade’s tip hit the ground with a dull thump, but still, Solaire held onto the sword, and he still faced forward, and his broad shoulders and back–resembling more and more a mountain the longer she looked–remained as resolute as ever.

Before Twilight could guess what was happening, Solaire unhooked a small bundle of white cloth that was attached to his belt. He held it firmly within his fist and in one smooth motion, he drew his arm back as if he intended to hurl the tied-up cloth through the air.

Twilight smelled it first, the sharp scent of ozone in her nose. She spared a quick glance to the side and saw that the look of disgust on Applejack’s face had given way to something much more primal. Her eyes were wide and her mouth worked itself noiselessly as if the words were caught in her throat.

And then Twilight felt it on her coat, the static, prickly sensation from her younger years when she used to read on the carpeted floor of her childhood home. It travelled through the length of her body, causing hairs to stand on end and giving off the unpleasant sensation that she was covered in invisible, electric ants.

All around them, members of the royal guard shifted uncomfortably on their hooves. Some were looking to their comrades with nervous expressions on their faces, while others had taken some steps back. When Twilight looked back toward Applejack, she saw not her friend but the guard that stood on the opposite side of her. Twilight craned her neck over her shoulder and caught sight of Applejack several paces behind her and pointing a hoof straight ahead.

“Applejack, what’re you–"

“Look,” breathed the earth pony.

And then Twilight saw it.

Bright gold electricity arced across every surface of Solaire’s upturned palm. Lightning bounced across the gaps of his fingers and through the white cloth sitting in the center of his hand. The sparks popped and crackled and grew, extending perpendicularly with the flat of his palm. And all eyes looked on as Solaire reformed his fist around the bolt of lightning that had seemingly been conjured from thin air just behind his right ear.

The lightning kicked and jumped and screamed within his grip, but even still, Solaire managed to angle it by the tiniest of amounts toward the one single pony in front of him.

Luna was a statue faced with a storm. Her eyes were wide and her ears stood tall atop her head. Her gaze flicked back and forth between the lightning bolt and Solaire’s face, and in the next instant, just barely audible over the intense howls and sparks of the lightning, came a quiet, muffled voice.

Luna's ears perked and her brows creased and as Solaire pulled his arm back and bent his knees, the wings that had remained at Luna’s side burst outward with a powerful gust of wind. In one single flap she took to the air, kicking up a wave of brown dust and debris in her wake.

Twilight blinked away the grime. She had to see. Despite all logic, she found herself moving forward. She squeezed past the wall of guards and stood, watched, waiting, as Solaire, poised in mid-throw, looked skyward at the princess.

His opponent hovered several meters off the ground, her confused expression just barely readable from such a distance.

And Twilight held her breath as the lightning in Solaire’s fist dissipated into nothingness as quickly as it had been born. The sword fell from his other hand, his arms dropped and Twilight stared up at the back of Solaire’s form as he dipped his head and said in a loud, clear voice,

“I yield."

****

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. First came the shocked silence. Then came the polite clapping of hooves on ground, which quickly devolved into what would be considered an uproarious applause considering who was doing the applauding. The guards all wore smiles as they patted each other on the withers and upon seeing their princess descend from her flight, moved forward as a well-oiled unit to express their amazement and congratulations.

From her spot in the now-shrinking shade of the castle walls, Twilight had counted more than a few sighs of relief among their ranks.

Princess Luna herself looked rather taken aback by all the attention directed her way. She looked small amidst the guards, with her too-wide smile and her eyes ping-ponging in their sockets as if unsure where to look. Before long, she caught sight of Solaire and the guards knowingly parted to let her through.

Twilight looked on as the two exchanged words. She watched their mouths, taking note of the short, clipped nature of their conversation. Then Luna gestured to Solaire’s broken arm, to which Solaire replied with a chuckle and a wave of his hand. Luna frowned. A few more words were exchanged and as Luna’s horn lit up, Solaire slowly nodded and extended his arm.

“Looks like she’s fixin’ him,” Applejack said. “It’s the least she could do, really, kickin’ him around like he don’t feel pain."

Twilight glanced toward her friend. “I thought you didn’t want him around."

The two ponies sat side by side, watching the gaggle of guards mingle in the center of the courtyard.

Applejack frowned. “I never said that. What I said, Twi, is that we shouldn’t be gettin’ involved with him. But that don’t mean that I wanted to see his arm gettin’ broke. It ain’t right."

“And if I remember correctly, your idea of right is that we do nothing at all."

“If doin’ nothin' means keepin’ us all safe, then... yeah.” Applejack sighed and rubbed at the space between her eyes with a hoof. “Listen, Twilight, I ain’t gonna say what I said before, but I think what we just saw only makes my case all the more real. We have just seen a critter from another world pull a bolt of lightnin’ out of thin air. A bolt of lightnin’ he was fixin’ to hurl at a princess who had just shattered his arm. He scared her, you know that, don’tcha? I don’t imagine it’s easy scarin' a princess."

“He scared us all,” said Twilight.

“Then why do I feel like… I dunno, like you’re wrackin’ your brains over a real simple situation?"

“Maybe because I am,” Twilight replied.

“And you do know that he said he’s fine with leavin’, right? I mean, you’re the one who told us that."

“I know, Applejack. I know.” After a moment, Twilight’s brow furrowed and she wrinkled her snout. “Okay, look. Imagine it’s raining outside, but not like a drizzle… like it’s coming in sideways it’s storming so hard. You look out your window and you see a pony, completely and utterly exposed to the elements, just walking along the side of the road. What would you do, really, if you saw that?"

Applejack’s eyes roamed across the surface of Twilight’s face as if she were expecting to find an answer there.

“Well,” she began, “I’d run out there and offer her a place to stay. Two or three times that’s actually happened, Twi. Not very recently but I do remember ‘em."

“Okay,” Twilight said with a nod, “then what would you do if that person refused your offer?"

“I’d insist."

“And still no?"

“I’d insist again."

“Against all expectations,” Twilight continued, “this person absolutely refuses your hospitality and chooses to stay out in the storm for whatever reason. What would you do then?"

Applejack looked down at the grass, and slowly, her gaze drifted upward towards the center of the courtyard. Solaire and Luna were still chatting but now they wore amicable smiles and somewhere along the line, a tightly-wound bandage had found its way onto his arm.

Her expression unreadable, Applejack looked back at Twilight. “I’d offer him an umbrella,” she said quietly.

For the better part of thirty seconds, the two sat there in silence.

"I think that’s the point Rarity was trying to make,” said Twilight in a low tone. “The time me and her talked, emotions were kind of running high and she ended up just yelling at me."

Applejack shrugged. “That’s Rarity for ya. Eloquent in all places and situations... except when it matters a’course. Speakin’ of, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since she walked out of breakfast.”

“Yeah. She said she had some work to finish up."

“Right. The gala dresses.” Applejack paused. “ Or sleepin’, more like. We’ve had a long night, Twilight Sparkle. You especially. Would it kill ya to at least think about gettin’ some sleep?"

Twilight smiled, looking on as Applejack rose to her hooves.

“Do you really expect me to sleep now?"

Applejack smiled and shook her head. She spared a quick glance out into the courtyard before turning back toward Twilight.

“Dunno,” she said. “I don’t think there’s a person alive who rightly knows what you’re gonna do next. But what I do know, Twi, is that you’re about to have some company."

Twilight raised a brow and turned her gaze to the center of the courtyard. There she saw Solaire calmly making his way to their spot in the shade. There was a relaxed quality to his steps, as if he were strolling through a park or window-shopping on a Saturday morning. He caught her looking and promptly held up his palm in return.

Applejack suddenly looked sullen. “Reckon that you’ve got a whole interrogation lined up for the poor fella."

“Very funny,” Twilight groused. “But yeah. I do."

Already turning to leave, Applejack doffed her hat in farewell. “Then I’ll leave y’all to it, then. Third wheels are only third wheels when they don’t realize it. I’ll see ya later, okay?"

“What will you do?" Twilight asked as she rose to her hooves.

“Get acquainted with my pillow,” Applejack said, and then the next moment she was gone, walking away back towards the same set of doors they had passed through an hour before.

****

As he made his approach, Solaire had watched the hatted pony lay eyes on him, exchange a few words with Twilight Sparkle and leave all within the span of ten seconds. Now, as the purple pony looked up at him with expectant eyes, Solaire couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt for something he may or may not have done.

Solaire gestured to the double doors the hatted pony had just gone through. “Did I…?"

“What?” Twilight stared for a brief moment, and then her brows shot up. “Oh! Oh no, she’s just sleepy. You didn’t scare her off or anything if that’s what your thinking. Yeah. Applejack wouldn’t, uh… you know."

Solaire blinked.

“Nevermind,” said Twilight. She took a breath and sobered her expression. “So how are you feeling? How’s your arm?"

“Tender,” Solaire said, presenting his bandaged limb. “Your Princess Luna insisted that she mend it, to which I replied that she need not worry about such a small, miniscule injury. She then said that she poured only a fraction of her strength into that kick, to which I replied that only cravens hold back in duels where honor is concerned."

“Wow, uh–"

“We became fast friends,” Solaire finished. “Do you think it presumptuous of me, calling royalty a ‘friend’?"

“What? No.” Twilight shook her head. “I think she’d like that actually. Uhm, Princess Luna’s been… out of touch with everything until recently."

“Ah."

When Twilight did not continue, Solaire brushed off the back of his legs and sat in the grass next to the unicorn. The guards were still milling about their princess, no doubt continuing their rounds of questioning from before.

He ran a slow hand through his hair.

“I’ve already forgotten their names,” Solaire began.

“Hm?” Twilight turned her neck to face him.

“The Royal Guard. They all introduced themselves one by one after the fight. I couldn’t name them past the third, let alone tell them apart. This may seem rude of me, Miss Sparkle, but when they’re all the same color, same shape, even in the same armor…” Solaire breathed in deep, “… I feel like I’ve crossed them somehow."

Twilight did not speak for a few seconds.

“Well, they do strive for uniformity,” she said. “If it makes you feel any better, they’re not really all white. There’s an enchantment in the armor that alters their coat color on a polyfollicular level. It’s a pretty simple enchantment, but… yeah."

“Then what of your friends?” Solaire asked. “Even now, I’m having trouble recalling some of their names."

“Like who?"

“The pink one."

“That’s Pinkie Pie."

“And the one with the, er… the hair."

“Uh,” Twilight furrowed her brow, "Rarity?"

“No. No no, I know Rarity. I promised that I’d speak with her after, well… after she saw me die. No, the one I speak of is yellow."

“Oh! That’s Fluttershy, yeah.” Twilight nodded. “She does have a nice mane, doesn’t she? You know, they go to the same spa, she and Rarity."

Solaire glanced her way. “Spa?"

“It’s a place where they, uh,” Twilight paused, “where they clean you, essentially."

“Ah."

“Yeah, it’s–“ Twilight cleared her throat. “Well, what about Rainbow Dash? You remember her, right?"

Solaire pointed at his head. “The colors."

“Right. And what about Applejack?"

“The hat."

“Yeah! See, you do know them."

Twilight gave him a big smile and Solaire couldn’t help but give one as well, if only to match her enthusiasm. After a moment, his smile faded.

Solaire looked away. “I apologize, Miss Sparkle. Where I come from, names are… rare. They’re meant to mean something, identify you as a person. But you see, there are very few people where I come from. Just the monsters that are left behind, and, well…“ he let out a puff of air through his nose, “… those who still have the strength to struggle."

He could feel her gaze on the side of his head.

“Our first talk,” Twilight began. “The one with myself, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and Captain Rook."

“When I first awoke."

“Yes. You spent some time discussing your travelling companion. I, uhm… I believe you said her name was Adria.” There was hesitation in her voice. “The one who killed you."

A pause.

“Yes."

“Well. You mostly talked about what you two were trying to accomplish and how it sort of, well... fell apart at the end."

Solaire let out a short chuckle. “Miss Sparkle, if you’re asking how I received that gaping hole in my stomach, I can assure you that that was her handiwork, yes. Or should I say that it was the culmination of all her training and hard work? She always was a perfectionist when it came to her magic."

“Did you teach her?” Twilight asked.

“By the Sun, no! I haven’t a drop of magic blood in me!"

“Then that lightning from before?"

“Hardly magic, Miss Sparkle. The lightning spear that appeared in my hand was simply the reward for a lifetime of good deeds."

The unicorn blinked a few times. She frowned ever so slightly. “What?"

“Miracles, Miss Sparkle. An inexplicable force that appears when beckoned, heals when ordered and kills when commanded. Many can learn but mastery requires true faith. Something that Adria lacked I feel.” Solaire sniffed. “No, Adria’s magic came from deep within. A direct draw from life itself.

Soul magic, I believe she called it."

Twilight grew strangely quiet. Solaire spared a glance and saw that she was staring straight ahead, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Miss Sparkle?"

“Sorry, I just–“ she shook her head and gave a small smile. “It’s a huge coincidence that we are literally worlds apart and yet we have the same name for the same type of magic. Did you know that yesterday morning, I believed that I was the only pony in Equestria that even knew of soul magic? For two months I was essentially killing myself in the basement of my library, trying at the very least to prove its existence. I worried my friends. I locked myself away. I lied to them, because I knew that if they found out what I was doing, they’d try and put a stop to it."

“What happened then?” Solaire asked.

“I succeeded. I crystallized a piece of my soul and, er… I’ll spare you the details, but it hurt. It hurt a lot."

Solaire rubbed at his chin. “Based on my very meager knowledge on the subject, Miss Sparkle, I’m led to believe that that’s quite a feat. The princesses must have been impressed with your discovery."

“No, they yelled at me,” said Twilight offhandedly. “But Adria– we, I mean, when you were dead, Luna picked through your wound and found shards of crystal just embedded in there. How in the hay did that happen? I mean, it took me two months of pain to form a crystal not even the size of my hoof. But this Adria forms them with enough ease and speed thatshe can just… use them as ammunition? Surely she forms them beforehand. Tell me at least that."

Solaire patted at his abdomen where the gaping hole had once been. “She pointed her staff, formed it and fired before I could even react."

Twilight’s brow knitted together.

“But how?” she asked. “When I started this whole thing, I envisioned that these crystals would be used to power train engines. City streets. Entire buildings! Whole teams would be needed to craft them. Planning! Latticework! I can’t believe you're telling me that the person who betrayed you is capable of weaponizing her soul like… as a move. A technique that she could pull out of her backpocket on a whim. I mean, even Princess Luna said that the spell she shot at you outstrips anything that she had contributed to the field, and she had a school."

Solaire raised a bit.

“I can’t believe that either,” Twilight continued, and she breathed out a heady sigh. “A thousand years ago, Princess Luna of all ponies had a school dedicated to soul magic."

“A thousand years is a long time,” Solaire said. “What happened?"

“It drove Luna insane and Celestia burned it to the ground."

“Now I can see why they yelled at you,” he finished.

“Yeah, well. If Princess Celestia didn’t want anyone discovering the dangers of soul magic, then maybe she shouldn’t have hid it."

Solaire did not respond for a moment.

“You sound angry,” he eventually said.

“I’m angry, and I'm tired and I feel inadequate,” Twilight said. “My discovery should have heralded in a new age of magic and industry, and instead I find out that I’m retreading very old, and apparently, very dangerous ground."

Solaire frowned. “Miss S–"

“And then I find out that the being who emerged from my crystal fire had a travelling companion who uses soul magic to, well… murder her friends!"

“Miss Sparkle…"

“Why does that make me feel bad!"

“Miss Sparkle."

Twilight shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m venting to you of all pon– er… persons. People. You.” She groaned. “I’m really sorry. You have your own set of troubles and here I am, just unloading all of mine on you. As if you really want to hear them, right?"

“Miss Sparkle,” Solaire began in a steady tone. “The reason I said that your discovery must have impressed the princesses is because it impressed me. You are forgetting one crucial detail that separates yourself from people like Adria and I."

“What’s that?” Twilight asked.

“Whilst Adria and I are dead, you, Twilight Sparkle, are very much alive. You have a bright future ahead of you. Your heart beats in your chest. It is the fact that you are alive that you will never reach the level of power that Adria currently wields."

She looked to the grass, frowning. “I don’t…"

“What prevented you from forming a bigger soul crystal?” Solaire asked. “Was it the pain?"

“I… suppose?"

“And what is pain?” Solaire continued. “Is it not your body’s way of screaming at you to stop, to warn you that if this continues, you may very well die? You knew perhaps on the surface, perhaps deep down, that if you kept pouring more and more of your life into that crystal, you simply would have ceased to be."

Solaire watched as the unicorn shut her eyes, her lips forming a grim line.

“Death is the greatest deterrence of all, Miss Sparkle. You remove death, and you are completely and utterly and horrifyingly free. What else is there to stop you, if not your own fear?"

Twilight breathed in deep. After a moment, she let out a slow stream of air through her nose and calmly rose to her hooves. She looked out into the courtyard, squinting in the ever-rising presence of the sun.

“It’s a lot of information,” she began. “I need to process. I need to write things down."

“Miss Sp–"

“And I need to write a letter. I told him I’d write after my lecture yesterday and I never did. The least I could do now after all I’ve put him through is to fill him in on what’s happened."

Solaire nodded even though she was not looking his way.

“And Solaire?” she continued. “If you don’t mind me asking... during your duel with Princess Luna, you said something to her right after you conjured your lightning bolt. What was it?"

Solaire smiled.

“I told her that I never miss."

Twilight bowed her head slightly and glanced at him from over her shoulder.

“You kept your promise,” she said in a quiet tone. "Thank you for not hurting anyone, Solaire. I really mean it."

****

Princess Celestia looked up from the ream of papers that had been placed on her desk not even ten seconds prior. A purple unicorn stared back at her.

“Twilight Sparkle, this is not a letter. This is a book. A book you addressed to Spike."

“I’m sorry–that’s two hours of straight writing. I wanted to be thorough."

“And thorough you have been,” Celestia said as her horn took light and began leafing through the pages. “You wish to inform Spike of our guest."

Twilight nodded.

Celestia turned to the last page, her eyes quickly scanning over the document. “And if he so wishes, he is to board the earliest train to Canterlot in lieu of arriving tomorrow for the Grand Galloping Gala.” She looked back up.

Twilight nodded again. “Yes, I wanted to apologize to him in person for all that he’s had to put up with in the last two months. I made him lie. I made him continue with his work even though he knew it was hurting me. I’ve been horrible, I–"

“I understand, Twilight Sparkle, and I applaud you for wishing to make amends so soon. I can send your letter right away. Right at this very moment, if you so wish?"

Her ears flattening, Twilight gave a small smile. “If it’s no trouble, Princess."

Without another word, Celestia levitated the stack of papers and it disappeared in a pop of displaced air. She regarded the unicorn with inquisitive eyes.

“I, ah…” Twilight cleared her throat. “I’ve brought something else."

Twilight’s horn took light and she grabbed the manila envelope that had been resting on her back. She floated it out in front of her and allowed Celestia custody of the envelope. A second later, it glided through the air and placed itself neatly in the center of her desk.

Celestia smiled. “I believe I know what this is."

“I did most of the preliminary work,” Twilight said. “The fine-tuning, the proper bindings and spell gradients. All that’s missing is, well… your touch. It has to be you who casts it."

“I understand,” said Celestia. "But before we continue on to the busy work, I was hoping to gather your thoughts on our guest. I trust you and your friends have reached a consensus?"

Twilight gave two slow nods. “An informal one, but I’ve a general gist on what everyone thinks of Solaire."

“Could you elaborate?"

“Well, everyone more or less wants to help him in some fashion. The only one who was on the fence was Applejack but I could kind of sense that she would come around. Past experience and all that."

“And what do you think?"

“About Solaire?"

Celestia nodded, and it took Twilight a brief moment to answer.

“He’s out of a storybook,” Twilight said with a shrug. “A storybook if the hero and everyone else were tall, zombie bipeds, and instead of trying to save the princess from whatever’s snatched her, everyone’s trying to… save themselves, I guess. Or something like that. Yeah."

Celestia raised a brow.

“Ugh, I don’t know, Princess. He’s weird, but in a kind way. He’s strong but he’s not mean and menacing. He’s dead, Princess, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s the nicest dead person I’ve talked to in my whole life."

Twilight paused and made a show of examining the flat of her right hoof. She peered up at Celestia through raised eyelids. “Have you heard about the duel yet?"

Celestia leaned back slightly. “Indeed I have. Quite a spectacle, as I have been told. I was also informed that my sister broke Solaire’s arm. Was it as bad as my informant made it out to be?"

“It was gross,” Twilight said, “but if you’ve heard about the broken arm, then surely you heard about–"

“The lightning?"

“Y… yes."

“It was the the peak of their duel as my imagination sees it. All that power generated by one being. It is hard to believe, is it not? The closest we have come are the thunderheads we craft in the weather factories, but even then, the energy needed to produce them is only a margin less than the energy they put out."

“Novelty weather,” Twilight said. “Unable to be harnessed in any real fashion. But Solaire’s lightning, he pulled it out of thin air. He was holding it for a good five seconds. I’ve never seen anything like it before, Princess. It was like standing next to a firework that kept on exploding."

“What are your thoughts?” Celestia asked without missing a beat.

“It was amazing,” Twilight said. “And it scared me, frankly because it’s new."

Celestia gestured for her to continue.

Twilight licked her lips. "I talked with Solaire. After the duel, of course."

“Oh?"

“It was only after the fact as I was replaying the conversation in my head that I remembered what he said. Solaire said specifically that this… ‘magic-but-not-magic’ can be learned."

“And did he have a name for this… phenomena?"

“He said miracles, but I don’t know if that’s ‘Miracles’ with a capital ‘M’ or ‘miracles’ used as just like a general noun, implying divine intervention or some other.” Twilight clicked her tongue. “I didn’t want to pry. But the point I’m getting at, Princess, is that he said that it can be learned, and learning implies that it can be taught."

For just a second, Celestia glanced down at the manila envelope.

Twilight pressed on. “Just imagine it, Princess. A whole entire branch of magic that has yet to be discovered. Just think of what he knows that we don’t. I mean, in ten, twenty years, there could be unicorn, pegasus, earth pony fillies and colts running around with lightning bolt cutie marks, and not because they fly fast."

Celestia was stock-still as she stared at the unicorn sitting across from her. “You wish to learn this information from Solaire."

“Yes."

“And you have accounted for the fact that he will be leaving in less than forty-eight hours, yes? I have heard of accelerated courses, but Twilight Sparkle… less than two days. Come the eve of the Gala, Solaire will be gone."

Twilight looked at the manila envelope sitting on Celestia’s desk.

And Celestia smirked as she finally undid the brass tabs keeping the envelope closed. From within, she pulled out a paltry sum of just two papers, but every inch was covered in diagrams and equations and notes.

On the bottom right corner on the back of the second sheet, scrawled into the margins was a single sentence. It had been circled several times.

“What is Celestia’s fire made of?” it read.

After a long moment, the alicorn princess set the papers down and looked up at the unicorn.

“This may just work,” Celestia said.

****

“You know, Pinkie Pie’s gonna be on me like sprinkles on a donut if she finds out that I let you in here, right?"

Solaire drummed his fingers on the table and leaned back against the one and only human-sized chair. The parlor of Celestia’s tower had been decorated with a bric-a-brac of items that had surely not been there when he had departed for breakfast earlier in the day. Through the giant circle window on the far side of the room streamed in rays of the afternoon sun. Illuminated most of all was the big, white banner covered in puffy gold lettering that now currently hung from the ceiling.

Hovering just to Solaire’s left, Rainbow Dash looked less than enthused.

“So,” began the pegasus. “You said it was important and now you’re just sitting there. Party’s spoiled and it’s all because good ol’ Rainbow Dash exercised the appropriate level of caution in the face of an ‘emergency’."

“I grew tired of wandering the castle,” Solaire said, rubbing a shoulder.

“Huh? Was no one with you?"

“Oh, yes, there were ponies. I would pass a maid occasionally. Or a guard."

“No, that’s not–“ Rainbow sighed. “So no one was escorting you around the place, like Twilight or Applejack or, I don’t know, Fluttershy?"

Solaire frowned. “Should there have been?"

“Uh, yeah? We agreed as a team that we’d show you around the castle during the day and come back here for the party at night! You’re not supposed to be at the surprise party before it even starts! That’s not how it works!"

Solaire looked around the room a bit more. “If I may inquire, Miss Dash, but what is a party?"

“What? No, that’s…” The pegasus winced as if in visible pain. “No. Did you just say that you don’t know what a party is?"

Solaire nodded.

“It’s like a celebration,” Rainbow said, looking glum.

“Ah, yes. It has been too long. Tell me, what are we celebrating?"

“You!"

“Me?"

“Yes!” Rainbow cried out. She jabbed a hoof at the big hanging banner. “Didn’t you read the sign?"

Solaire stared up at the banner for a long moment, his brows creasing.

“I cannot read your letters,” he said.

“But it’s completely legible, Solaire. And huge. I mean, I could read it from another timezone."

Solaire shook his head. “I believe you misunderstood. Your letters are foreign to me, Miss Dash. I cannot read it. They appear as… construction toys for children. Or buildings."

He looked on as Rainbow’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a small ‘O’.

Solaire was about to speak when there came two loud, sturdy knocks from the door on the other side of the room. Both Rainbow Dash and Solaire looked, then they looked at each other, and in the silent seconds that followed, Rainbow cleared her throat and called out a single,

“Yeah?"

“Ah, Rainbow Dash,” said a matronly voice from behind the door. “It is Princess Celestia. May I come in?"

Rainbow whipped her gaze back onto Solaire.

“Hello?” came the voice again.

“Er, sure. Sure! The room's a little messy though. We–"

The door glided open on quiet hinges and there, just beyond the threshold, stood Princess Celestia, her eyes already taking in the numerous decorations that had been hung up within.

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, “we kind of, uh… took over your room. Sorry."

“Oh, it is no matter,” Celestia said as she walked inside. Her gaze scanned from left to right, before finally settling on Solaire. She glanced at the pegasus. “I was hoping to have a word with–"

“Oh yeah! Of course, of course,” Rainbow Dash said, holding up her two front hooves as if in apology. She started drifting towards the door on lazy wings. “I was feeling a little antsy anyway. No idea what Pinkie was thinking when she made me ‘guard’ the room."

Celestia nodded as the pegasus went by. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash. Please, do not mind the door–I won’t be long."

“No problem,” Rainbow said, and then took a left out the door and disappeared from sight.

For a long moment, Solaire regarded the tall, white pony through sidelong eyes. His hands were folded together atop the surface of the table, and despite a growing itch on the tip of his nose, he kept his hands in place.

Solaire sniffed.

Celestia, for her part, simply glanced about the room as if she were seeing it in a new light. She smiled when she saw the banner.

“Do you know what it reads?” she asked.

Solaire shook his head.

Celestia looked his way. “It says ‘Believe in the ponies that believe in you’. A very tame message considering the pony who wrote it."

“And quite cryptic as well."

“Or astoundingly simple to understand. It is all a matter of perspective, don’t you think?” Celestia began walking, horn aglow as she levitated a chair away from the round table. She sat down in its place, the spot directly opposite of Solaire.

“How is your arm?” Celestia asked.

“Tender,” Solaire repeated.

“I apologize for the injuries you sustained at my sister’s hooves. She is competitive–almost to a fault–and in all the time that I have known her, she has never shied away from a challenge."

“She is impressive with a sword,” Solaire said.

“As she should be. Long ago, there was no Royal Guard. No standing army. Back then, my ponies did not fight for us, but rather, we fought for them. My sister comes directly from that time when those skills were needed, and that is why I asked her to fight with you."

Solaire remained silent.

“Please, consider our situation,” Celestia continued. “My sister and I, as protectors of our people, needed to see how you would react under pressure. She was more than willing to play that role."

Solaire nodded slowly.

"You are a complete enigma to our world, Solaire. If we were to help you, we would need to know you."

“And what have you learned?” Solaire asked.

Celestia said nothing. Instead, her horn took light and a small object popped into existence in front of her head. Solaire watched in silence as she floated the object over and placed it squarely in the center of his side of the table.

Solaire stared at the silver ring with a deepening gaze. It was a plain band, of smooth finish and bearing no etchings on either the inside or out. It was not exceedingly bright or exceedingly dull, but sitting somewhere firmly in the middle of the pack–as low-key a ring that he had ever seen. But as Solaire reached out and traced a finger along its surface, he could feel a warmth to the metal as if it had been sitting out in the sun for hours prior. He pulled back, turning his gaze back towards the princess.

“What is this?” Solaire asked.

Celestia’s face was a neutral mask. “The ring is not a gift but an invitation. If you are to accept then the ring is yours… as are the responsibilities that come with it."

Solaire raised a brow.

“You are to keep the ring on your person at all times,” Celestia said. “You must never lose the ring. You must never lend out the ring. You are the only person who can know what function the ring serves. Do you understand?"

“Not at all,” Solaire said. He glanced down at the plain band with something akin to caution.

“I know not what sort of dangers you will run into in your own world, Solaire, but if worse comes to worse and you find yourself in a situation where losing the ring is a very real possibility, I must know if you are capable of swallowing the ring just to keep it in your possession."

“Is that necessary?"

“That is how important it is,” Celestia said. “Am I clear?"

Solaire nodded.

And with that, Celestia shut her eyes for a brief moment and began.

“The ring is both a guide and a messenger,” Celestia said. “From the warmth it emanates, it tells its wearer that the fire atop this very tower is burning. You emerged from that fire, yes? With a simple recasting of the spell that brought you here, you, Solaire, will always be able to return here to Equestria."

“Given that the bonfire burns,” Solaire said. “Who is its keeper?"

Celestia paused.

“I will be managing it,” she said. “I am the one who lit it, and with some research and experimentation, I shall be able to extinguish and relight it at will. Even now, I can feel a strong connection to the flame."

Solaire rested his chin on a knuckled fist. He looked to the ring, then to the princess.

“I take it there are stipulations regarding my visits. Offered help is often with its own demands."

“Nothing so trying,” Celestia said. “All we ask is that you share the knowledge of your magic with us. This can be done in any place of your choosing, with either me, or Princess Luna, or–"

“Twilight Sparkle,” Solaire said.

“Yes. Or Twilight Sparkle."

For the first time Solaire reached out and plucked the ring from the table. He held it between his thumb and index finger and stared through the loop towards the ceiling. It was warm and heavy with enchantments.

“Twilight Sparkle,” he repeated. “This was her idea was it not?"

“As is often the case, yes. She is a young, bright mind, and hungry for knowledge. In fact, she is also responsible for creating the spells that are imbued into that ring. I simply acted as the hammer for her forge. But please, do not mistake this invitation as greed on her part. We wish to help, truly, but we would like yours as well."

“A mutual trading of goods, then” Solaire said. “I get to rest, talk, even sleep if I so desire."

“A sanctuary, if you will."

“And all you ask of me is that I teach you my ways?” Solaire gave a half grin. “Is that all? Really?"

“Of course,” Celestia said.

“You are not going to ask me to smite your enemies, are you?"

“You will be safe here, Solaire."

Inside his chest, he felt something stir. He clenched his fists and suppressed a smile. He looked down at the table and did nothing about the bangs that fell over his eyes. He didn’t even bother looking up when he heard the shuffling of hooves at the far end of the room.

“Reckon we don’t gotta listen in anymore,” said Applejack.

“Good thing, too!” said Pinkie Pie. “If you guys made me hold it in any longer I would’ve literally exploded with excitement!"

“Yeah, that’s great and all,” said Rainbow Dash, “but that Twilight Sparkle did kind of steal our thunder."

“Howdy there, Princess C. We’re gonna be havin’ us a good ol’ fashioned party soon as we wrangle up the rest of our gang. You’re welcome to join us, if’n you wish."

Solaire heard Celestia let out an airy chuckle.

“Maybe, girls,” Celestia said. “I have a lot of things on my plate that need my attention. But perhaps later on, I could… "

Solaire did not hear the rest. Their words had blended together into an entangled jumble of noise. Keeping track of so many voices at once was a skill that he had forgotten. A skill that was not needed back in Lordran.

A skill that he was willing to relearn.

He clutched the ring in his fist.

“I accept," he whispered out.

****

Applejack entered Rarity’s room on light hooves. The room no longer resembled a suite in the castle, but an attic above an old tailoring shop. Spools of cloth in an assortment of colors and material lay strewn about in the far corner of the room. Snippets of loose thread dotted the floor and an assortment of ribbon rolls had been painstakingly arranged in columns and rows on top of the bed.

Rarity herself was sitting in a chair facing the far wall, a wide table in front of her and the sounds of a sewing machine punctuating the air.

Applejack cleared her throat, and the unicorn stiffened slightly. The sewing machine stopped and she swiveled in her chair, a small smile already prepared.

“Applejack! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Rarity's usually pristine mane looked as if she slept in it and a pair of posh red glasses sat just a tad askew atop the bridge of her nose. When a stray strand of hair fell over her eye, she dispatched it with a quick puff from her mouth.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Applejack. “Weren’t sure if you were sleepin’."

“No matter. No matter,” Rarity said as she stepped out of her chair. Her gaze flicked to the wall behind Applejack.

“How do they look?” Rarity asked.

The earth pony turned, and there she saw a beautiful purple dress adorning a wooden mannequin of a mare. The dress was of the quality that she had come to expect of Rarity–no-holds-barred, cutting-edge fashion to be worn for the sake of one single day.

It would turn heads.

“There’s more,” she heard Rarity say, and Applejack found herself stepping to the center of the room to reveal five more dresses on five more mannequins arranged in a neat line along the wall.

“Every time I think that you can’t possibly top last year’s…” Applejack let out a low whistle, looking to each one in turn. “They’re all done?"

Rarity nodded.

Applejack nodded as well.

“Where’d you get the mannequins?” she asked.

“I had a servant bring them to me last night. The guards use them for their armor. They had spares, apparently."

“Right,” said Applejack. “S’pose that makes sense."

For a few moments, the two continued on in a comfortable silence until Applejack shuffled on her hooves and cleared her throat.

“Since you’re done with the dresses and all, Rarity, we was hopin’ that you could make it to Solaire’s party. We weren’t so sure since you were a bit frazzled when we last saw ya."

Rarity turned to face her. “Eh heh, yes. I suppose I was a bit out of sorts.” She looked to the right, back towards the long table and sewing machine.

Naturally, Applejack looked as well and caught sight of the telltale signs of a busy workstation. The sewing machine was still on.

“Didn’t you say you were finished with everything?” Applejack asked, raising a brow.

Rarity glanced back for a moment longer, and with a twinkle in her eyes, set off towards the far side of the room. Applejack followed suit and soon, the two ponies were standing side by side, looking down at the assortment of half-finished white garments.

It took Applejack all of five seconds to realize what she was looking at.

“Rarity… you didn’t."

“I did,” said the unicorn. Her horn sparked to life and the enormous suit jacket whose sleeve currently sat within the machine rose into the air and pinned itself flat high against the wall.

They both stared up at the human-sized garment, one pony wearing a victorious smile, the other a small frown.

“What did you think I would do, Applejack? After all, the Grand Galloping Gala does have a dress code."

Equestrian Ring

An enchanted ring from another world. Who knows what spells were weaved into its metal…

The glassy orb in Kirk’s upturned fist pulsed a deep, malevolent red. He turned to the sorceress and nodded.

“It is ready,” he said.

Author's Note

*Stumbles out of DeLorean*

"Great... Scott."

Chapter Seven - Turn Them to Ash

Solaire looked down into the great hall from his perch on the second floor landing. Directly below him, the golden doors leading into the palace proper had been opened and hundreds of ponies adorned in their finest regalia began streaming inside. That was an hour ago, but even now the tide showed no signs of stopping. His eyes trailed the red carpet and the immense line of ponies atop it–the pristine, perfect line that led halfway up the wide imperial staircase to where Princess Celestia was waiting. She wore only a smile and her usual attire, nodding to each guest in turn and exchanging a few pleasantries before sending them on their way with a kind-hearted farewell.

The guests always exited to the right when descending the stairs.

The next in line bowed for exactly three seconds before stepping forward.

It was like clockwork.

With an exhausted sigh, Solaire turned away from the proceedings below and stared out the round, giant glass window that faced out into the city. Above, the sky had already darkened into a deep shade of royal blue and in the city streets, Solaire could just make out the tiny dots of yellow light moving like paper lanterns on a midnight river towards the palace.

“They will be here soon enough,” said a voice just to his left.

Solaire didn’t have to look to know who it was. “Should you not be down there with your sister?”

Luna gave a bemused smirk. “I could. I should. I suspect she’d like me by her side in these especially trying times."

“Does she not like the gala?” Solaire glanced Luna’s way.

“She likes the gala as much as a puppy likes a thorn in its paw."

“And why is that?”

“It is the nobles. They come armed to the teeth with their fine clothes and their fake smiles, wimpishly attempting to curry favor with the strongest piece on the board in their petty squabble of a game.” Luna gave a flat, half-lidded stare out the window. “Celestia, of course, is happy to play along."

“But not you," Solaire said.

“They do not know what to expect of me,” Luna said, “and as I imagine, they do not know what to expect of you. Is that why you have been hiding up here all this time, Sir Knight?"

Solaire’s mouth tugged at the corners.

“Rarity took the time to assemble that handsome suit of yours,” Luna said in a lilting voice. “She even cropped that scraggly mop of hair that once sat atop your head. With her assistance I daresay that you look half the gentlecolt now. To think that you would repay her generosity by squirrelling yourself away like some sort of opera ghost."

Solaire raised a brow.

“It is my way of saying that I do not see you as a hideous, deformed creature.” Luna gave her mane a little shake and began walking away. She paused, looking over her shoulder. “But if you wish to continue acting the part, then you are welcome to walk with me."

Solaire stole one last look down into the great hall of the palace. Down below, the unfathomable number of ponies continued to mill about, completely unaware of the conversation that had just transpired above their heads. He held his breath as a small, nagging feeling compelled him to spare a glance towards the princess on the first floor of the hall.

Celestia seemed to be looking their way.

A second passed, and Solaire offered a palm in farewell before following after Luna in earnest. She turned down the first hall they came across, and after a minute of walking the dull drone of noise that floated up from the gala faded into a quiet muffle. Soon, all that Solaire could hear was their own footsteps and his own muted breaths.

Luna’s voice cut through the silence.

“You are either very brave or very foolish to return to your quest so quickly.” The princess kept kept her pace, and could just as easily have been talking to the walls.

“It is the path I walk,” Solaire replied. “And it’s the only thing I have left, really.”

Luna took a long moment to reply.

“A fool, then,” she eventually said. “As much as you would like to think you are not defined by your quest, Knight Solaire. You have a kindness; a valor; a quiet strength about you that I cannot describe. Hear it from me if you do not believe it: your curse has not taken these things from you.”

Before he could say something, there came a faint tuneless whistle from the hall just ahead. The pair came to a stop and listened as the whistling grew louder and louder until finally, from a side passage on the right emerged a tiny purple creature walking on two legs. In its hands it held a flimsy book up to its face, concealing its features from sight.

The creature reached the center of the hallway before turning their direction. Solaire estimated that about ten seconds would pass before the creature waddled straight into Luna’s legs.

It turned a page with its clawed hand. “Heheh. No way."

Solaire and Luna shared a look, and the princess drew in a deep breath before letting it out in one slow exhale. She faced forward.

“Spike,” she called out.

The purple thing stopped in its tracks. It lowered the book a couple of inches, revealing a pair of emerald green eyes. It looked from Luna to Solaire, before flicking its gaze back onto the princess and then back again.

“Who’d have thought,” said the thing as he shut the book with a twitch of his wrist. “Just the guy I was looking for!”

He stared up at Solaire with a scrutinizing gaze. “You are the guy, right?"

“Er–"

“Solaire,” Luna interjected, “this is Spike. And Spike, this is Solaire. Might I inquire as to why you were looking for my guest?"

“Oh, right. Well, I’d have done it earlier in the day but Twilight said that he was really busy with stuff and that I’d eventually meet him at the gala,” Spike said with a shrug. He shuffled around the princess and eyeballed Solaire up and down. “And when that didn’t happen, I decided to go look for you myself! You’re way taller than I imagined by the way."

“And you’re very small,” said Solaire, noting that the little creature barely reached his knees. “Are you a lizard, perchance?"

“I’m a dragon, and give me a few years, will ya? I’m gonna shoot up like a beanstalk."

“But hopefully not as stringy, yes?” Solaire smiled as he looked towards the princess. “A talking, purple dragon. Princess Luna, your world continues to amaze me."

“And all you have seen of it is the inside of this castle."

Solaire let out a low hum.

“But enough tarrying,” Luna continued. “There is something else that I wish for you to see."

She set out down the hall once more and Solaire obliged her with a silent nod. It did not take long for him to notice the soft click-clack of scales on tile echoing his steps. Its pace quickened, and Solaire gave a downward glance as the tiny dragon named Spike appeared at his side. Or rather, next to his feet.

It was somewhat remarkable that he was able to keep up.

“So, uh. Yeah,” Spike began. “I hear you’re not really from around here… or anywhere, really."

“Oh?” Solaire remarked.

“Something about you being a zombie knight from another dimension trying to save his planet by keeping a mystic fire burning?”

“You’re quite the informed little dragon,” said Solaire.

“Yeah, being Twilight’s assistant sort of does that to you.”

“You seem to be taking this all in stride," Solaire remarked.

“Again,” Spike said. “Twilight’s assistant. Nothing really surprises me anymore."

The dragon paused, clearing his throat. “So you’re going back tonight.”

“That is correct.”

“But you’ll be dropping in to visit every so often? How is that going to work by the way? I mean, I’m no expert but even teleporting between cities is like trying to charge a thaumic battery with only a superconductor and low-grade stasis spell to hold it all together.”

“Er–”

“Talk about taking a risk, right? And here you’ll be, just jumping between dimensions whenever you feel taking a couple of days off? How in the hay do you do it?"

A smirk on his lips, Solaire looked down at the dragon. “Fishing for answers, are you?"

“Me? No way."

“Good! Because I don’t have them. But now that I’ve time to think about it, I suppose that’s why I’ve been invited to return, yes? I may not have the burning desire to know the inner workings of how I arrived in Equestria, but someone here clearly does.” Solaire twirled the silver ring on his finger. It sat on the middle digit of his right hand, a snug, perfect fit.

“Right,” Spike said with a smile. “Between you and me… and Luna, I guess, Twilight’s absolutely dying to learn from you. She kept going on and on about how it should be physically impossible to hold lightning, but–"

“It was quite a sight to behold,” Luna added from her spot up ahead.

“Yeah, I bet,” said Spike. “And wait, didn’t you technically lose, Princess? The way I heard it, you flew into the air and then Solaire gave up."

Luna glanced over her shoulder.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps Knight Solaire was enough of a gentlecolt to yield the fight to the lady. It was all for the sake of fun, Spike. I was glad to learn that when a literal bolt of lightning entered our duel, Solaire had no intention of using it."

Luna faced forward once more and without missing a beat, she turned left down another hall. Further ahead, Solaire could see two large doors with a lit sconce embedded in the walls on both sides. Without a word, the trio reached the end of the hall and Luna’s horn burst to life in a pulse of blue magic. The doors swung open soundlessly and Solaire was greeted with a blast of chilly, evening air and the sweet scent of wet grass.

As they stepped out onto the grey stone pathway, Solaire immediately caught sight of their destination. A large white tower, seemingly comprised of a single gargantuan block of marble, rose up into the sky as if seeking to spear a hole into the heavens itself.

Spike let out a low whistle. “This is the south courtyard, right? You know, I’ve never actually been out here. The doors were always locked."

“You are correct,” said Luna. “My sister had this place built some years ago. Thankfully she had the forethought and grace to leave the interior in my hooves."

The tower sat in the middle of a massive circle of well-kept grass and unlike the field the guards had trained in yesterday, there were no tall white walls to block the rest of the world from view. Far off on the horizon, Solaire could just make out the sharp outlines of jagged, snow-capped mountains rising up and clashing with the dark, cloudless sky.

They continued walking, their stone path snaking through the grass and planted occasionally along the sides were small, black lanterns letting out a faint blue glow. On a particularly wide bend, Solaire caught sight of the far end of the clearing where grass met a thin strip of white flooring, and where white flooring rounded off into unobstructed, open air. For a brief moment, Solaire entertained the idea of simply stepping off the edge and looking up as the city built into the mountain fell away into the distance.

“It’s quite beautiful,” Solaire voiced.

Luna kept her pace. “Yes, but this is not what I wanted you to see."

Soon, they reached the entrance of the tower where two large slate-colored doors barred the way in. The princess’ horn lit up once more, and the iron doors gently swung open on silent hinges.

One by one, they stepped into the darkened tower. Moonlight streamed in behind them, causing their shadows to stretch and dance along the tiled floor. Their steps seemed unnaturally loud in the silence, and only after the doors closed shut with a quiet thud did Solaire realize the pale glow emanating from above. Solaire looked up and saw a large, translucent half-dome embedded in the center of the ceiling. Its surface was covered in ornate, silver designs and inside, tiny blue flecks of light swayed and flickered like fireflies caught in a jar.

Solaire gave a cursory glance around the room, noting just how empty it all was. Nothing adorned the grey brick walls, and the floor, while bearing an intricate half-moon tilework, carried a dull and lifeless sheen as if it had not been polished in years. Stranger still, the only object of note in the room was the rather large, free-standing oval mirror that stood directly opposite of the tower’s doorway.

Solaire’s brow furrowed.

“Where are the stairs?” Spike asked suddenly, bluntly. “Unless I’m missing something here, Princess, I think your sister gave you a dud tower."

Something akin to a smile flashed across Luna’s lips. She motioned for them to follow with a tilt of her head as she started towards the mirror with a calm gait. Spike shrugged, and Solaire simply looked on as the dragon made his way over to the waiting princess.

Luna stood just to the side as Spike stared into his reflection.

“I get it, I get it,” said Spike. “I’m a handsome guy. It’s just something that can’t be helped."

The dragon glanced at the two others in the room.

“Look again,” Luna said.

In an instant, where Spike's reflection should have been there was instead a tall, rounded window in a dimly-lit room. The left pane was slightly ajar and the white curtain that hung in front of it flowed and swayed in calm eddies of evening air. Through the window, a crescent moon hung suspended in the sky like a pendulum frozen in time.

Solaire smiled.

It was as if the mirror had been turned into a moving painting.

“Well!” Solaire said. “That really is quite remarkable, Princess Luna. I don’t consider myself a very cultured man but I recognize art when I–"

He felt a breeze on his cheek.

His mouth closed shut and he watched as Spike reached a whole arm through the frame. Then two. And with an almost casual flourish, Spike vaulted through the mirror as if hopping a fence and landed on the other side with a muffled thump. He looked back out through the frame.

“Right,” said the dragon. “What’s the point in stairs if you’ve got one of these? Neat."

Solaire blinked and by the time he realized it, Luna was stepping through the mirror as well. Midway through, she craned her head in his direction.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

The knight dried his palms on the back of his pants and started after her. The mirror, while quite large, was not tall enough to accommodate for Solaire’s height. Before he ducked through, he shot a quick glance around the back of its frame.

Only more wall greeted him.

With a sigh and a wrinkled chin, he stepped through the mirror and into the room beyond. In the quiet seconds that followed, Solaire scanned from left to right, his eyes glazing over at the sheer enormity of all that there was to see. On one side of the window, Books and tomes and scrolls and parchment sat upon shelf upon shelf of dark-lacquered wood. The massive bookcase dominated an entire segment of wall, reaching up to the ceiling and bending with the curvature of the room like a small portion of a monstrously-sized snake.

A stout, round table loaded with a mish-mash of papers and scrolls sat firmly in the center of the chaos. A single blue cushion was just visible behind one of its legs and several empty inkpots were strewn around its base.

Solaire had just noticed the silver-framed globe spinning on its own in the corner of the room when the distinct sound of a shelf being pulled open drew his attention. In the midst of his quiet wonder, Luna had wandered to the room’s opposite side where a large, crescent-shaped desk currently sat. The princess stood just behind it, staring down into what Solaire could only perceive as the shelf that was just opened.

Luna’s brow furrowed ever so slightly and in the next second, her horn took light. From behind the desk floated a large sheet of metal swathed in a blue glow. She lay it flat on the desk’s surface and fixed her eyes on the knight.

Without a word, Solaire made his way over to her. He stopped at the edge of the desk and looked down at what she had laid before him.

Mind racing, he glanced back up towards Luna. “A shield."

“Yes,” said the princess. She gestured towards the shaped metal with a nod. “Please, inspect it yourself. It has been years since I have attempted this."

As Solaire extended a hand towards the table, he felt a presence behind his left leg. He looked down and to the side, straight into the face of a young dragon who no doubt wished for a few more inches in the spaces between his ankles and knees. With a smile, Solaire dropped down into a squat and, meeting Spike’s eyes, he gestured towards his shoulder with a point of his thumb

Spike gave him a humbled look.

“Can I?” he asked. “I don’t wanna seem forward or rude, or like- you know, it’s not really–"

“Climb up,” Solaire said.

After a tense moment, Spike took hold of Solaire’s sleeve and pulled himself up fist over fist until he sat square in the center of Solaire’s broad shoulder. The knight could feel the tiny dragon clutch at his collar as he rose once more to his full height.

Solaire angled his gaze at the dragon. “Now let’s take a look at this shield, shall we?"

Even with just his eyes, Solaire knew that it was a remarkable piece of equipment. The top portion of the shield formed a wide angle at the tip and tapered down into a blunted point at its base. Its edges sported a thick, polished silver rim, complete with shiny half-spherical bolts that ran perfectly spaced along its length. The shield’s center, stained a midnight blue, bore no crest and instead reflected the glints of moonlight that fell upon its smooth surface.

With a gentle touch, Solaire took hold of the shield in both hands and lifted it from the desk. It was astoundingly light for its size as if its core was made of wood, but a rap of his knuckles along its face quickly dispelled any doubts about the shield’s make. It was metal through and through, a metal that hummed and shivered with magic, its latent power coursing out and making itself known through a faint tingle in Solaire’s fingertips.

“Is it not to your liking?” Luna asked, her ears low.

Solaire looked up. “No it’s… I don’t know what to say. I suppose I should start with 'thank you' and move forward from there."

She let out a relieved sigh. “It was my pleasure to make it for you, Knight Solaire. Consider the shield a gift. I trust that you will make good use of it."

“I don’t believe I’ve told anyone that my old one was destroyed,” said Solaire. “How did you know?"

“A princess’s intuition,” Luna replied. "You have two arms and yet you fought me with only one sword. Neither did it escape me that your other arm, or should I say the one that blocked my kick–"

“Not so much a block when broken bones are involved."

“Yes, I–“ Luna cleared her throat, “–the arm I broke. I noticed that it has more muscle than the other. And of course the fact that you moved your arm to block my kick with a shield that simply wasn’t there.”

“Ah,” was all Solaire offered.

Luna gave a closed smile. “If you needed one, Knight Solaire, all you had to do was ask."

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 7 - Turn Them to Ash

“Ugh. I really should have asked him about that handkerchief while I had the chance."

In the east wing, tucked away from sight in the corner of the large banquet hall sat Twilight Sparkle. Her table was a solitary one, hidden behind the farthest-most marble column and quite literally, separated from all the rest. Hovering in front of her, a small quill quickly scratched down a small series of notes onto a yellow notepad.

The pegasus opposite of her shifted in her seat.

“What handkerchief?” Fluttershy began.

“It was like a small bundle of bunched-up cloth. I think it was like a font for his magic or something. I didn’t really get a good look at it and there was so much questions that I needed to ask that I completely forgot to ask him about that."

“Oh."

“Yeah, but I guess I’ll find out eventually, right?” Twilight set down her notepad and looked up at the pegasus seated at the other end of the table.

Despite their secluded location, a haze of sound floated all around them. Dozens of conversations intermingled into a disjointed jumble of incoherent words and laughter, and on the far side of the banquet hall, a small collection of musicians on a tiny stage provided a quiet backdrop of symphonious melodies and tunes.

Twilight smiled. “You know, thanks for sitting with me, Fluttershy. It’s always nice to have someone to talk to at these sort of things. You won’t believe how many galas I’ve been to, spent just reading the latest book or what have you."

Fluttershy met her gaze. “When you were younger?"

“Yep."

“What about your family?” she asked.

“Well, Shiny was always on duty and my dad just came for the food, really. Mom would sit with us for a little while but she’d eventually get dragged away by her friends and we wouldn’t see her again until it was time to leave.

“She gets around,” Twilight added.

When Fluttershy gave only a nod, Twilight started again.

“Your dress looks great by the way. Rarity’s really outdone herself, huh?"

Fluttershy perked up slightly. “Oh, yes. She works so hard on our dresses, I always feel guilty when she tells us we don’t owe her a single bit.”

“Well, that’s Rarity for you. She would never–“

A chill. A lapse in thought.

Twilight shuddered. “Sorry, did you feel that?"

Fluttershy didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was curled into a tight frown. She quickly rose to her hooves, wings clenched to her sides as she glanced past Twilight and out into the banquet hall.

It was only then that Twilight noticed the music had stopped.

She stood as well and turned around, watching as pony after pony entered their line of sight from behind the marble column. In their finest attire, mares and stallions moved like drones towards the massive glass windows that comprised the entire east section of the hall. Just beyond was the royal garden but they stared not out into the rows of perfectly-kept bushes, flowers and shrubs. Their gaze drifted upward, up towards the thick haze of descending fog.

It moved with an unnatural uniformity, a falling wall of grey mist that blocked out the night. In silence, the ponies looked on as the tallest point in the garden, a lamp post with a tiny a flame at its tip, made contact with the mist. In the following seconds, not a single breath was taken as the small spot of orange light flickered into nothingness within the dense fog.

And still, it continued to descend.

Twilight swallowed away the lump in her throat. Within the span of a minute, where there was once a garden was now an impenetrable haze of swirling grey mist. The lights from within the banquet hall caused their own semi-transparent reflections to appear in the glass as if a row of frozen-faced doppelgangers stood just on the other side. There, at the top of the windows, a thin layer of white frost began spider-webbing its way down the massive panes.

She felt the chill on her coat first. Then came the vapid trails of condensation following each breath. Twilight took a step back, her eyes unconsciously drawing towards her friend. For just a moment, she could see the unabashed worry on her friend’s face as the pegasus stared out into the mist.

Fluttershy’s brow furrowed and with a slow turn of her head, she looked to Twilight through a sidelong glance.

Twilight gave a single nod.

“We need to find the others,” Twilight began.

****

In the single room at the top of Luna’s tower, three individuals stared out into the fog that had descended on Canterlot Palace. A single pane of glass was all that separated them from the strange mist. Not one word was spoken since the anomaly had appeared.

Hesitation slowed his hand as Solaire raised his arm and gently brushed his fingertips against the window.

It felt like ice.

Solaire stepped back, his own expression staring back at him through the frost-stricken glass.

A voice, tinny and distant, sounded out just to his left. It must have been Luna’s.

Another step. The ringing in his ears continued without pause, the high-pitched whine of a silver bell in his skull that would reverberate into eternity. Solaire swallowed away the dryness in his throat, and in his chest the thumping of his heart had grown so sharp and pronounced that it felt like the organ would slip loose of its viscera and plunge deep into his abdomen.

Solaire gripped at nothing. He had to get free. He had to–

“Solaire!"

The knight stood stock-still and then sucked in a jagged breath of air. In the following seconds he became keenly aware of the tingling sensation of magic swathed around his arms and shoulders.

He looked down at his hands–his fists–the white-knuckled grips that shook like leaves on a dying tree. Luna stood just to his side, the glow of her horn matching the same aura that had wrapped its way down to Solaire’s hands. A pressure, gentle and tender, pulled at his fingers like ribbons of silk and Solaire looked on as his hands slowly opened, revealing the broken skin on his nail-marked palms.

He lowered his arms to his side.

“Solaire,” Luna began in a low tone, “I need you to tell me what is happening out there. This fog, do you know what it is?”

The tiny form of Spike stood several paces to Luna’s side, his eyes big and his small arms clutching at the lapels of his coat.

The words burned like acid as they left Solaire’s mouth.

“They followed me,” he breathed out.

“Who?”

“I am sorry,” he whispered.

Luna took a single step forward. “Solaire, who followed you?”

His gaze fell to the floor.

“Who?!”

****

There hung a certain tension in the air, a certain wide-eyed, tight-lipped fear that had made itself apparent on the faces of all the ponies at the gala. Twilight Sparkle and Fluttershy walked side by side, so close their dresses brushed together and they could hear the other’s breaths in their ears. They moved slowly through the small connecting corridor that led out of the banquet hall and away from the giant windows that revealed only fog. But even then, the fog’s presence still pressed down and Twilight’s heart still continued to race.

They walked in silence, following by some unknown agreement the tumult of voices that only grew louder the closer they drew to the great hall. Celestia would be there, Twilight was sure.

And so would her friends.

It was not long before the pair reached their destination. They entered the great hall on quiet hooves, each surveilling the room for a distinct hat or rainbow-colored mane. All around them, ponies in their finest suits and dresses congregated in chaotic huddles and clusters, their low tones and hushed whispers matching the expressions they wore on their faces. As expected, the large doors that led out into Canterlot proper had been shut, but high above through the massive circular window on the second floor landing, the fog loomed like an ever-present, uninvited guest.

It wasn’t long before Twilight noticed the guards. They glided in groups along the edges of the room like white and gold shadows, their vigilance made known through their hunting, steely-gazed eyes.

Twilight could feel Fluttershy lean in close.

“Do you think this is an attack?” she heard the pegasus say.

“I don’t know,” Twilight replied. “It could be a lot of things, Fluttershy. A weather malfunction, a rogue storm. A, uh... a prank. Or yes. It could be an attack.”

“Oh.”

“We just have to be prepared for everything,” Twilight said.

After a long moment, Fluttershy pointed her nose at the far corner of the hall. “I think I see Rarity.”

“Where?”

“She’s there. And Pinkie Pie, too.”

Twilight nodded when she caught sight of them as well. They were only tiny specks of color in a backdrop of shapes, but the unmistakable form of Rarity’s curled mane and Pinkie Pie’s blindingly bright coat made it quite easy to spot them among the masses.

“Fluttershy?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“I need a favor.”

A pause. “What is it?”

“Can you go tell them we’re here? I need to speak with the princess.”

Fluttershy shifted on her hooves. “Of course, Twilight.”

“Thank you.” Twilight gave the pegasus a brief nudge with her shoulder. As Fluttershy began making her way into the crowd, Twilight added, “And find out if they know where the others are!”

Fluttershy turned back and nodded, and then she was gone.

Twilight took a deep breath and started towards the grand set of stairs on the far left side of the room. At the top stood Celestia and a small grouping of guards, her head lowered as one of the armored stallions whispered something into her ear. The stairs were covered in the more vocal palace guests but Twilight paid them no mind. She squeezed past them with an acquired finesse and a few well-timed ‘sorrys’ until finally she was standing at the top steps, an apologetic smile prepared for the stern-faced guard blocking the way.

In the span of a second, recognition flashed in the guard’s eyes and he quickly stepped to the side.

“Thanks,” Twilight whispered as she shuffled past the guard and onto the staircase landing.

She looked on in silence, her gaze slowly drifting between the four figures in front of her. Celestia faced slightly away from her, just enough that Twilight could see her mouth issuing quiet commands to the three guards standing barely a chest’s breadth away from her snout. At once, the two pegasus stallions nodded, stepped backwards as a cohesive unit and took to the air, the gust from their sudden liftoff tickling at Twilight’s bangs and eyes. She watched them for a moment longer as they shot across the great hall, down a high-ceilinged hallway and eventually out of sight.

Twilight face forward again, just in time to catch Captain Rook dip his head into a slight bow.

“Of course, your Majesty,” uttered the grey stallion. Head still low, his eyes flashed toward Twilight. “But I do not believe I have to look very far.”

Celestia stiffened slightly before she finally turned to face her.

The princess gave only a weary smile. “Twilight Sparkle, perhaps it was foolish to think that you wouldn’t come find me as soon as you could.”

Twilight wasted no time. “Princess, do you know what’s going on? This fog, it’s–”

“I do not,” said Celestia. “It is as foreign to me as it is to you. Though I am not without a plan.”

Twilight’s ears perked up.

“I have no doubt in my mind, Twilight. I believe I have felt this before. That night atop my tower, the night we set your soul crystal aflame–”

The night Solaire stepped out of the fire.

“–I felt this disturbance, a deep deep dread the likes of which I still cannot explain. How this fog is connected I do not know, but I shall not wait to find out.” Celestia shut her eyes as she drew in a slow breath. She started again in a quieter tone. “My ponies cannot remain here, Twilight Sparkle. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Twilight answered without hesitation. “What do you need me to do?”

Celestia stepped towards Twilight and looked out into the great hall, out into the sea of ponies below them. As Twilight turned and looked as well, she could imagine the princess looking into the worried faces of them all, wanting in all her heart to extend to them the smallest amount of comfort.

The most she could do was get them out of the palace.

“A teleportation spell,” Celestia replied. “Thirty guests at a time.”

Manageable.

“Where?” Twilight asked.

“The school. The courtyard, to be more precise.”

Twilight nodded slowly. “Does it still look the same?”

She had to ask. It wouldn’t do if one of the guests re-entered reality and found her hind legs fused to a fountain or statue that wasn’t there before.

“Yes,” Celestia replied, “everything is as you remember. And it should be safe. I’ve received word from beyond the fog that the palace is the only place that has been affected. The school is far enough away from the fog but not so much to alter the accuracy of your jumps.”

Twilight stifled the next question that came to mind. Celestia would never risk marching her ponies through a wall of unknown, possibly malicious, magic. She looked once more up towards the giant circular window directly opposite of them at the far end of the great hall.

Only white beyond the glass.

“Thank you, Twilight Sparkle. My guards will assist you where they can.” Celestia looked to the armored stallion just to her left. “Captain Rook? Time is of the essence.”

The captain snapped to attention. “Understood, your Majesty.”

At once, the captain stepped away from the princess and towards the crowd of ponies milling about below. He stood at the edge of the landing and without hesitation, his commanding voice filled every corner of the hall.

“Esteemed guests!” he had to have cast an amplifying spell the way his voice cut through hundreds of conversations at once. “As you are all aware, there appears to be a fog of unknown origin surrounding the palace. We have yet to determine its presence here, but some of the guard have reported that it is bitterly cold to pass through! Thusly, a p–”

“Are we in danger?” A mare called out from the crowd. Her outburst was followed by a buzz of murmurs and whispers.

Captain Rook raised a hoof. “Rest assured, everypony! Princess Celestia and all of the Royal Guard are working to ensure that all of you are kept safe! To avoid traversing the fog a plan has been devised to teleport everypony off palace grounds. The location you will be transported to is the courtyard of a nearby school, and as I speak guards are there now clearing the premises of any obstacles!”

Twilight chewed at the inside of her lip as her gaze dragged across the hundreds of ponies below her, catching only snippets and phrases of the captain’s continued explanation. She had already spotted Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie from atop the landing, and it took only a moment longer for her to lay eyes on Rainbow Dash and Applejack as well. The pair stood together, pressed to the far right wall and near the hallway as if they were late coming in.

Perhaps it was instinct that drove Twilight’s gaze upward, upwards once more towards the massive circular window that oversaw the entire hall.

Celestia must have sensed it as well, the way she stood stiff, her eyes focused high above on that one spot directly opposite the stairs.

“Twilight,” she breathed out.

And then they were there.

They faded into existence as if they were ghosts given form; two shimmering figures, a sinister aura radiating off their frames that wavered between a blood-red and the deepest of blacks. Smoke the color of pitch fell in heavy waves off their bodies, and it was with a silent horror that Twilight realized–they stood just as Solaire did.

Human.

They were perched like gargoyles on the walkway high above the unsuspecting crowd, the white fog in the window behind them only serving to contrast their unnatural state. One of them took a slow step forward and rested its hands on the railing. The other figure extended its arm into the air in front of itself, and there, grasped in its hand was a long staff of some sort, held vertically as if in offering.

Captain Rook stopped mid-sentence, looking upward. Celestia sucked in a sharp breath. And Twilight stood transfixed as she saw the figure’s staff pulse a pale, malevolent blue.

Twilight realized too late.

The staff flared, blinding.

Celestia’s horn blazed.

And Twilight Sparkle stumbled backward, hooves slipping from beneath her. She hit the floor on her side, ears ringing as spots dominating the center of her vision.

She saw Celestia first, the princess’ stance wide and her ears flat. She then saw the bright golden barrier Celestia had projected several meters in front of herself. The barrier stood brilliant and shining and shattered, its center a jagged hole multiple sizes her hoof. Its surface was a spiderweb of breaks and cracks and the entire hall was silent as a shard like glass fell from the broken barrier and to the floor.

Another piece fell.

And then another.

And Twilight could only lay there paralyzed as the screams came. She could only lay there as the entire barrier fell and fractured against the tile, and she could only lay there as Celestia rushed forward, her horn aglow as she gently lay Captain Rook to the floor.

Chaos filled the hall as Celestia silently knelt by the captain’s limp form. The screams gave way to panicked shouts and the sounds of hooves scrabbling against tile. And Twilight watched in pained recognition as Celestia carefully removed the helmet from the captain’s head and bent down to whisper something in his ear. And just like that, Celestia began to rise once more.

Blood pooled around the princess’ hooves.

For just that instant, Twilight could see the muscles working in Celestia’s jaw, could see the fury bubbling behind her eyes. They locked gazes and Celestia’s throat bobbed up and down and with a barely bridled rage, Celestia whipped around, her wings spread wide.

The two figures remained in the same spot high above, unmoving.

Celestia’s hoof came down with the strength to shatter tile.

“My ponies!” she roared. “Make for the throne room! Go now!”

Twilight sucked in a shaky breath, keenly aware of her heart thundering against her ribcage. She remained on her side, light-headed and dizzy. She knew that if she tried to stand she would simply fall back to the floor.

You’re not breathing, she told herself. Not enough oxygen to the brain.

The blood spreading across the floor was getting closer now.

“O-oh,” she whispered out, and then the bile rose in her throat. Twilight swallowed it back down and screwed her eyes shut.

Breathe.

A weak gasp.

Breathe.

She could hear Celestia descending the stairs, slow methodical steps.

She heard the flapping of wings.

“Twilight!”

Rainbow Dash’s voice.

“Twilight, hey!”

Hooves pressed against her back and she felt herself being pushed and pulled as if to rouse her from sleep.

“Twilight?” Quieter, this time.

She cracked her eyes open and lifted her head slightly.

“I’m okay,” Twilight said, voice strained.

Dash looked her up and down, her brows twisted into a worried crease.

She met Twilight’s gaze. “Are you?”

Twilight let her head hit the floor. The captain’s body lay only a few steps away.

“He’s dead,” she whispered.

“C’mon, we have to go.” Dash hooked her legs around Twilight’s barrel and pulled the unicorn to her hooves.

The unicorn took a moment to steady herself.

“Thanks,” Twilight murmured, returning Dash’s looks with a sidelong glance.

With one last shuddering breath she silently stepped towards the captain’s body. He had been laid down with his back to her, his armor still a mirror sheen as if he had just polished it that morning.

Twilight approached at a careful pace, pushing it from her mind that she had just walked a circle around his spreading blood. She looked down at the body, and then at the massive icicle of a crystal that lay embedded deep in his chest. It was a monstrous thing–roughly the size of her leg–and covered in dozens of razor-sharp crystalline protrusions that jutted out at harsh, tearing angles. It tore through the captain as if he simply wasn’t there.

“Twi, I barely saw it,” Dash began in a low tone. “He was just talking and then I suddenly felt like… sick to my stomach. Then I hear this whoosh behind me and I look up just as that thing flew through the air, and—” she cut herself off. “I didn’t even see the princess put up that shield. It all happened so quick.”

Twilight turned away and looked out into the great hall. The gold and blue banners adorning the fronts of the hall’s large stone columns now hung lifeless. Shards of glass littered the floor, the aftermath of dozens of champagne glasses hitting the floor at once. Most of the gala guests had already made themselves scarce save for the few still pushing at each other to get to one of the exits. She saw the multitude of guards prowling along the exterior of the massive room, steel-tipped spears in their grips.

And standing in the center of it all, staring up at the killers on high, was Princess Celestia herself.

Silence dominated the hall.

At once, the thicker of the two figures pulled itself over railings, its legs slightly bent as it plummeted several meters and slammed into the tile below like a meteor. Through the cloud of dust the figure slowly rose off its fist and knee and seemingly met Celestia’s gaze through its spiked, faceless helm. The closer Twilight looked the more she realized that it was iron barbs that sprouted from every surface of its armor.

The figure up above bore a more elegant form. Her thin frame was plainly adorned: a form-fitting outfit layered over with a light cloak that fell over her shoulders and ended partway down her back. She moved with grace as she vaulted over the railing, her staff held away from her body as she landed with barely a sound. A cowl concealed her eyes and despite the blood red aura that engulfed the intruders’ forms, Twilight could still make out the pale ivory skin that peeked out from beneath the thinner figure’s hood.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash stood at the top of the grand staircase, worry across both their faces as they took in the scene at the far side of the hall. Horns primed and wings spread, two dozen guards slowly formed a loose semi-circle around the intruders. The guards kept a wide berth and for every unicorn a spear floated poised in the air just above their heads, steel tips all pointing inward at the pulsing red figures.

At once, a voice like gravel and razor blades reverberated through the hall.

“An odd place,” came the voice. “You kill one of their own and yet...”

The spiked figure held out an arm at chest height, palm facing upward.

“... they still aren’t upon us.”

The hooded one scanned its gaze across the guards opposing them and through the silence came a decidedly more feminine voice.

“You have taken us into the fevered dreams of a madman.”

“This is no dream,” Celestia snapped. She paused and took a single step forward, her next words coming slowly as if they were venom leaving her lips. “What are your names? Why have you come?”

A moment passed.

“I am Kirk,” came the gravel voice, “Knight of Thorns.”

“And I am Adria,” said the hooded figure. Her voice was cold and controlled, void of any emotion. “We seek a man who has stepped beyond his means, a man who has within his possession that which does not belong to him. Tell me, horse...”

In a very deliberate gesture the one called Adria slowly tilted her head to the side.

“Do you shelter him?” echoed her voice through the hall.

Twilight could almost feel the tension in the air as Princess Celestia gave her response.

“When Knight Solaire came to us he acted with the utmost grace and civility and answered all the questions we asked of him. He even spoke of you, Adria, and of how you turned your blade on him when he considered you a friend.”

Celestia’s horn took on a radiant glow.

“Leave,” she finished. “Never come back.”

Ever so slightly, Adria tilted her head upward. It was with a certain finality when she next spoke.

“Kirk...” her lips intoned.

The Knight of Thorns stirred.

“... turn them to ash.”

At once, a visible wave of pressure pulsed from Adria’s staff. It shot outward at a speed faster than sound, a veritable shock wave of compressed force that bent and distorted air. Spears shattered. Guards reeled and lurched, clutching at their ears. And Kirk stepped forward, a ball of swirling red flame held high in an armored palm above his head.

Celestia worked quickly. A bright golden barrier formed around the intruders and Twilight could feel the atmosphere crackle in response as the princess’s horn burned with destructive intent.

But Twilight had only eyes for the one called Kirk. Through the barrier the spiked figure could just barely be seen, both his arms raised as if in offering to the growing flame between his hands. His fingers snapped and twitched and with immense force he bent down and slammed the raging inferno deep into the tile, the flame disappearing from sight.

Celestia faltered. Her wings clamped tight against her sides. And Twilight looked on in shocked horror as the floor of the grand hall erupted in fire.

Immense heat.

All-encompassing flame.

It hurt to breathe, Twilight realized. The air burned going in.

It hurt to see. The brightest oranges and reds, massive pillars of blazing hot inferno that writhed and twisted through the air like hatred given form.

And It hurt to hear. The explosion of magma, the roar of fire. It didn’t quite drown out the screams.

Twilight let her mind go blank. She could see her friend in the corner of her eyes, could see the way her lips trembled and wings shook.

That wouldn’t do.

The blaze raged closer and closer. It showed no signs of stopping.

At once, Twilight spun on her hooves and hooked both her forelegs around Rainbow Dash’s neck. She sparked her horn and focused.

Analyze.

Visualize.

Actualize.

As she funneled every drop of strength into the spell, as her eyes watered and jaw ached, she realized that distance would not be an issue.

“Twilight!” Rainbow screamed, and the two disappeared in a pop of displaced air just as the flames reached the bottom of the stairs.

Chaos Storm

Art of the Flame of Chaos, which engulfed the Witch of Izalith and her daughters. Erects localized chaos fire pillars.

The Witch of Izalith, in an ambitious attempt to copy the First Flame, created instead the Flame of Chaos, a twisted bed of life.

Chapter Eight - I Start With This One

Spike could only look on as Luna’s eyes slowly parted and revealed them as two glowing white orbs. The glow soon subsided but the princess only stared straight ahead, her face a blank mask.

“They have attacked,” Luna said in a quiet tone.

“You could see it?” Solaire asked. The human stood to Spike’s left just in front of the tower’s lone window, his large form casting an even larger shadow over the dragon.

“Vague shapes,” Luna replied, “and only what my sister could see.”

Luna cast her gaze at Spike before focusing it on Solaire. “They were caught off guard. I suspect many are dead.”

Spike felt something twist in his chest.

Twilight.

“I am needed now,” said Princess Luna. “Do you understand?”

Spike looked up just to see the human nod.

“W-what do you mean?” Spike stammered at Solaire. He whipped his gaze back towards the princess but she was nowhere in sight. Where Luna stood just a second before was empty space and the empty room that was behind her.

Gone.

Without a word Solaire started towards her desk at the far side of the room. Spike watched with quiet anger as the human picked up the silver and blue shield that Luna had made for him and fitted it to his arm.

Spike stomped forward and stared daggers straight into Solaire’s back. “Why didn’t she take us with her?”

Why didn’t she take you with her?

Solaire still stood facing away from the dragon. “I am without a weapon and I am without my armor. Taking us as we are now would only increase her burden, not detract from it.”

“So what are we gonna do? Just sit here?” His eyes were wide as he stepped closer to the human.

“Of course not,” Solaire said, finally turning around. He dropped into a squat and met Spike’s gaze as well as he could. “We are going to Celestia’s tower where my sword and armor are currently being held. Shall we go? Time is of the essence.”

Spike quirked an eyebrow.

“The other tower, huh?” Spike began in a low tone. He scoffed and jabbed a thumb towards the window and the white fog beyond. “And how on earth do you plan on getting there?”

Solaire said nothing as he brought forth his other hand and revealed a bundle of crumpled white cloth sitting in the center of his palm. With a casual flourish he popped the odd thing off his hand and nimbly caught it between his thumb and forefinger. He held it at arm’s length, the cloth dangling in the air between them.

“Your unicorns are not the only ones who can teleport,” said the knight. “Though I am quite limited to where I can go.”

Spike eyed the talisman. “You mean that weird fire on the balcony. That’s the only place you can take us?”

Solaire frowned. “Well-”

“Then let’s go!”

****

The world was a sickening blur of hazes and shapes, of unidentifiable colors and unearthly sounds. Rainbow Dash screamed nothingness at the aether, her body twisting and contorting within the void.

And then it stopped.

Rainbow slammed into the ground. Hard.

She lay in grass, she realized. And everything hurt.

Her eyes felt swollen and engorged. Her brain felt like it had been processed through a cheese grater and her body felt a million miles away. Rainbow tried to open her eyes only for a wave of nausea to wash over her.

She felt someone lean in close.

“You’re okay,” Twilight said. “Take it slow.”

All Rainbow could manage was a pathetic moan.

Twilight pulled away slightly. “I need someone over here! Hurry!”

Rainbow felt in the ground the familiar vibrations of hooves approaching and soon there came a male’s voice, clean and articulate.

“You came from the palace?”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied. She sounded dry and hoarse. “Is there a healer here? It’s my friend.”

“Aye. Peppermint. That’s her there. Peppermint!”

Rainbow could feel her stomach doing cartwheels. As another set of hooves drew close, the male spoke again.

“A fire?” he whispered, fear in his voice.

“An attack.” Twilight let out a weak cough. “Listen, you’re going to need more healers here. Go to the hospitals. Grab anypony you can who can help.”

At this Rainbow slowly squeezed open her eyes. It took every ounce of effort to not throw up.

“A lot of ponies are hurt back there,” Twilight said, facing the stranger. “Guards mostly. There could be more.”

Twilight Sparkle sat in the grass next to her, a forlorn look upon her face. Her coat was covered in soot and ash. Standing closeby was a white-coated stallion, a gold helmet on his head and plated armor around his barrel. He looked between the two ponies and at once pointed a wing when he noticed that Rainbow had opened her eyes. Twilight turned and quickly placed a hoof upon her leg.

“How are you feeling?” Twilight murmured.

“Like garbage,” Rainbow replied. Her voice was weak and the words hurt her throat coming out.

“I’m sorry, Rainbow. I rushed a spell that should not have been rushed.”

Rainbow managed a smile. “It’s fine. You got us out, right?”

Before her friend could reply, another pony appeared behind Twilight, a light pink unicorn mare wearing a simple white cloak. The newcomer stepped around Twilight and knelt beside Rainbow’s head.

The unicorn met her gaze. “My name’s Peppermint and I’m with the Canterlot Royal Guard. How’re you feeling?” Her eyes were focused and searching.

“Like a million bits,” Rainbow groaned.

Peppermint shot a quick glance at Twilight. “What happened?”

“Spatial Disruption. We came a long way so it’s hit her bad.”

Peppermint paused, the silence long and questioning. “What about you?”

“I’m okay. Really.” Twilight was already rising to her hooves. “Just make sure she gets treated.”

The pegasus stallion standing closeby looked ready to speak but Twilight glanced at him briefly with a silencing eye.

“Just a second,” she whispered.

Rainbow looked on as Twilight’s horn took on a magenta glow and from thin air appeared a yellow notepad and a small quill. Twilight frowned as the quill went to work, the small feather working at a furious speed as it scratched something into the paper.

Rainbow would have continued watching had Peppermint not drawn her attention with a light touch on her withers. She looked up into the mare’s face.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Peppermint asked.

“Rainbow Dash,” she replied. She’d have made a quip at ‘kiddo’ had she not felt like she had just been hurled like a ragdoll through a thunderstorm.

“Do you know where we are?” continued Peppermint.

For the first time Rainbow allowed herself to survey her surroundings. She lifted her head off the ground and caught sight of the large building closeby. It bore architecture that Rainbow had come to associate with Canterlot: tall, round windows and no sharp angles whatsoever. The whole thing was circled by perfectly kept hedges and the building’s off-white color combatted with the night sky.

She felt like she had seen it in a picture somewhere before.

“We’re at Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns,” answered Peppermint.

Rainbow noticed the pink glow around Peppermint’s horn. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. I’d wager we’re about two miles from the palace. That’s quite a ways to teleport without a beacon.”

“I’m guessing you don’t who she is,” Rainbow uttered.

Peppermint glanced up at Twilight Sparkle for a brief second. “In any case, you and your friend should consider yourselves lucky that a pounding headache is the worst you’ve got. Trust me, I’ve seen it all in this city.”

Rainbow Dash hummed in response as she slowly lay her head back on the ground. In front of her she saw Twilight tear out a single sheet from her notepad. The unicorn scanned the sheet, gave a small a nod, and Rainbow watched as the sheet turned to ash in front of her eyes.

For just a moment the ash hung suspended in the air before shooting across the grounds and fading off into the distance.

Rainbow’s gaze lingered where the ash had disappeared. A pit in her stomach, she turned away from the dome of white fog that had descended on Canterlot Palace.

****

All was quiet in Celestia’s tower. For the past minute Solaire worked his armor in hastened silence. The fine suit that Rarity had made for him lay in a crumpled heap upon the floor. He had already slipped into his protective underclothes and all that was left was to fasten the chainmail to his body.

He had just attached the leggings when Spike’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and the dragon belched out a jet of green flame. The flame dissipated instantly but in its place there appeared to have burned into existence a small sheet of yellow paper that Spike quickly snatched out of the air.

Solaire continued to put on armor as he watched the dragon quickly scan the note. Only a few seconds had passed before Spike balled the paper with a clawed hand and let his arms drop to his side. Spike stared at nothing, his expression unreadable.

Solaire pulled his arms through sleeves of interlinked iron. “Is something the matter?”

“No, it’s…” Spike breathed out through pursed lips. “It’s from Twilight.”

“Ah.”

“She said that if I’m somewhere safe to stay where I am.”

Solaire pulled the cloth tabard over his torso. On instinct he smoothed his hand across the center of his chest, across the image of the sun painted into the cloth’s fabric.

“Is that what you will do then?” Solaire asked as he reached for the chair where he had left his gear. He grasped from the dwindling pile of armor a pair of thick iron bracelets and cinched them to his wrists.

Spike looked to the floor.

“She wants you safe,” Solaire continued. “That is simply her duty as your friend.”

Solaire paused for a moment before pulling his belts tight around his waist. From one of them hung his sword. A familiar weight.

“She’s always looked out for me,” Spike said. “She’s always done that.”

The dragon looked up and met Solaire’s gaze.

“I know what she’s going to do. She’s gonna go back there–just like you are–because you both can help. And I’m sick and tired of this feeling. Luna didn’t say it and you’re not gonna say it, but I get it. I’m just a kid. What can I even do?”

His giant green eyes glistened.

“She’s always looked out for me,” Spike repeated. “Who’s gonna be looking out for her?”

Solaire said nothing as he reached for his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He approached Spike and dropped to a knee. The dragon looked incredibly small.

“It takes a lot of strength to admit one’s weakness. Strange how that works is it not?” Solaire gave a small chuckle before letting his face fall into a mask of neutrality. He looked the dragon up and down. “Spike, you are not helpless. I had meant to ask you earlier and so I am asking you now. I will need your help navigating the palace. I am not comfortably familiar with its halls and I fear getting lost.”

Spike gave Solaire a tentative look. “You don’t know your way around?”

“I do not,” Solaire said. “And before that, we will still need to traverse the fog between here and the palace proper. It is a short distance but I believe we can manage. After all, you are a dragon. What’s a little cold to someone with fire in his belly?”

Realization dawned on Spike’s face.

“I am asking for your help,” Solaire stated. “But only if you’ll give it, of course. You may see things. Terrible things. I cannot shield you from them.”

“I don’t care,” said the dragon. “Let’s go.”

****

Twilight looked on as the pegasus guards disappeared into the night sky. Plans had been laid and word had been sent. The next time she’d be standing in this courtyard a whole cadre of medical ponies would be ready and waiting to render aid.

Treatment areas had been designated and the school faculty has already been alerted. In the span of a few minutes the sleepy school courtyard had become a bustle of activity. Twilight turned and caught one final glimpse of two unicorn guards, each in charge of a brilliant bright line on the ground that linked together forming a massive circle in the center of the school’s lawn. She could already feel the spell’s latent magic pulsing through the air.

Twilight had chosen the location specifically. She had spent so many days reading here that the spot was burned into her memory like an old photograph in the back of her mind. She walked a few paces around the circle’s glowing perimeter. It was a simple spell that would serve as the beacon for her teleportations as well as a visual aid to the guards to quickly vacate anyone within its borders.

It would be less than ideal if a gala guest re-entered reality in a space already occupied by another pony.

Uneven hoofsteps crunched through the grass behind her.

“Twilight. Take me with you.”

She turned her head. “Rainbow Dash...”

“I can help.”

“You can barely walk.”

For a second the pegasus winced as if she had been struck. “Then at least take some of these ponies with you! They offered to go, so let them go!”

“My job is to get ponies out of the palace, not bring more in. Besides, it’ll only complicate the spell. They know this.”

Rainbow stared back at her with furrowed brows, her eyes scanning across Twilight’s face as if searching for an answer.

“You shouldn’t be doing this alone,” said the pegasus. Fire burned in Rainbow’s eyes but the exhaustion was evident in the way she stood.

Twilight paused, a quiet second passing between them.

“I’m doing this, Rainbow, because this is the least I could do for the damage I’ve caused.” Twilight sparked her horn, already visualizing her re-entry point three miles away. She beat back the thoughts of screams and fire. “Ponies are dead because of this. Because of…”

Rainbow’s mouth slightly opened and her eyes grew wide.

“Twilight, y–”

“Rainbow, it doesn’t take a genius to trace all of this back to me.” She struggled to keep her lips from trembling. “I have to go back.”

In a bright flash Twilight Sparkle vanished from sight.

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 8 - I Start With This One

‘Numb’ was the only word Fluttershy could use to describe it.

She was by no means a stranger to stressful situations. It seemed to herself that much of her childhood was simply a series of anxiety-inducing trials and plights that would leave her feeling like the ends of an old frayed rope. And ever since Twilight had entered her life, these events had only increased in frequency and intensity to the point where having more adrenaline than blood in her veins was almost a norm.

But this didn’t even register.

She knew that if she took even a second to process what had happened, she’d end up like those ponies hiding in the throne room, hollow-eyed and open-mouthed, escaping inward to shield themselves from the terror.

Fluttershy instead focused on the stallion’s face below hers; on his pinprick pupils; on his rapid breaths; on the way his limbs trembled like the wings of a dying bird. The stallion lay on his side and she sat by his head, their bodies forming a straight line on the tile. They were so close that the bends of her forelegs encircled both sides of his face and the tip of his horn brushed gently against the center of her chest.

She chose to ignore the charred flesh that covered almost every surface of his body.

“Just look at me,” Fluttershy continued. “Just look at me.”

She chose to ignore his lack of coat. The faint orange ember that continued to smolder beneath his skin.

“Just look at me,” she whispered.

And she chose to ignore that on either side of her at least a half-dozen other ponies lay in similar states. They screamed for their mothers, of the unnatural fire eating at their bodies. They screamed for help and for death and for anyone to take them any place but here.

Worse still were the ones who had fallen silent.

It was like from a nightmare, their howling forms writhing out from the inferno. They emerged from the fire aflame themselves–proud guards, once the might of Canterlot–reduced to screaming withering husks encased in boiling metal.

The armor was pulled from their flesh and the worst of the flames beaten from their forms, but still some remnant of insidious fire burned beneath their skin and it took every ounce of effort to corral the wounded into the connecting hall just outside the throne room and get them to remain still.

“My name is Fluttershy,” she said to the guard. “Is it alright if I ask for yours?”

The guard worked his mouth, his whole body tensing as if struggling to get the words out.

“It’s… Swi–” He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. “Swift…”

His throat bobbed up and down. “Swift St–”

The rest of his name came out as a strangled wheeze.

“It’s alright,” Fluttershy said after a moment. “You’ll tell me one day. When you’re better, won’t you?”

His face contorted and he gave a small jerky nod.

“Is that him talking?” came a stallion’s voice.

Fluttershy gave a sidelong glance to the blue-coated unicorn sitting a few paces from her. His eyes were screwed shut in concentration and several beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He sat in front of four other victims, their charred bodies all swathed in a blue glow. Their chests moved in unison with each wavering pulse of the unicorn’s horn.

“Yes,” Fluttershy replied. She noticed the stallion’s cutie mark; it was a white cross over a silver shield. “Labored though. And um, I think he breathed in some of the heat or fire, and...”

I don’t think he will be able to breathe on his own for much longer.

She gave the doctor a worried look.

He grimaced as a line of sweat trailed down the side of his face. “I see. I loathe to say it but I can take on two, maybe three more at max. Are you medically trained perchance?”

“Um–”

In that moment a loud burst and a flash of purple emanated from the throne room. Encased in a lavender sphere and floating above the heads of the gala guests was Twilight Sparkle, already descending into the mass of ponies of below. She caught sight of Fluttershy just as her head dipped below the crowd and it took only a few seconds more for the unicorn to shrug her way out into the open and into the foyer where the wounded had been lain.

Fluttershy looked on as Twilight quickly surveyed the room.

“Is this all of them?” Twilight gasped out. The unicorn looked ragged and haggard. “Nine?”

“So far,” said the doctor. “Have you come to help? They need care immediately.”

Twilight spent a moment glancing at each of the victims in turn and simultaneously there appeared translucent purple spheres around each of their burnt forms.

“I’m taking them to Celestia’s school,” said Twilight. “There’s a disaster center there with hospital staff waiting.”

The doctor frowned as if considering Twilight’s words.

“Very well,” he said, “but I fear these four are in a very precarious situation. If they go without my magic for even a moment their airways will swell shut and they risk death. Do you have the strength to take me with them?”

At once a similar purple sphere formed around the doctor.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Twilight said, and promptly turned towards Fluttershy. “I’ll be back for everypony else. Are… is everyone okay?”

Fluttershy nodded. She knew Twilight was asking about their friends.

“Rainbow Dash is already at the school,” Twilight continued, her horn growing brighter. “Okay, I’ll be back! And stay safe!”

A flash, and Twilight and the sphered ponies disappeared from sight.

Fluttershy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She looked down at her hooves, down at the spot between her forelegs where the guard named Swift-something had just been. She trembled and shook. She had lied to him for his sake, a rationing out of an empty promise that she couldn’t justify would come true.

Fluttershy took in a shuddering breath.

She missed home, she realized. She missed her animals and she missed her bed and she longed for the days where nothing happened and she didn’t have to cry.

She’d dealt with death before, Fluttershy. It was simply a small, private part of the life she’d chosen to live at the edge of the Everfree. They’d come to her, or more often than not, she’d find them–a small animal who had escaped the carnivorous jaws of death only for the teeth to lacerate and mangle on the way out. She would tend to them and care for them but as the hours dragged on, she could see it then; in the jagged breaths and the widened gaze, that for all of her skill and expertise the most she could hope to render to these poor creatures was comfort.

She never once had felt the need to lie to them.

Fluttershy buried her face in her hooves.

****

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Rarity murmured.

“And what’s that?” Applejack whispered back.

“That I haven’t yet been reduced to a blubbering mess.”

“Night’s still long, Rarity.”

“You ladies don’t give yourself enough credit,” said the unicorn stallion in front of them. His coat was a pure white and he wore the golden armor of the Royal Guard.

Out of sight, the three ponies were huddled close together behind a small sliver of wall. Out of their little group Rarity had taken the rear guard, which left her jammed in the corner between brick and Applejack’s rump. In the middle was Applejack, half-crouched and fully poised. And in front stood the guard, green eyes as sharp as steel peeking out from just beneath his helmet. He inched forward, ever closer to where their wall terminated into the massive doorway that was the western portal into the great hall.

“Never caught your name by the way,” Applejack

The stallion stopped and craned his neck to get a better look at his accuser.

“You wound me.”

Applejack responded with a blink. “Have we met?”

“Halcyon,” he stated. “My name’s Halcyon. I was at the training field the other day? During the duel?”

He groaned. “Nevermind. You’re Applejack and she’s Rarity and I think you’re both really great for helping out with this.”

Halcyon took another slow step forward.

“No choice really.” Applejack sidled along on the wall just behind him. “There ain’t no livin’ with myself knowin’ what’s goin’ on in there and I just sat on my hooves.”

“A lot of ponies seem content to do just that,” he replied.

“They just have more self-preservation than us,” said Rarity with a huff.

Halcyon chuckled. “Good for us though, they say a lack of self-preservation is the foundation of bravery–”

Another step.

“–which is just another way of saying ‘stupid’.”

Rarity smirked. “Then Applejack is the bravest pony I know.”

“You’re mighty brave yourself, sugarcube.”

Their hallway was one of two connecting corridors on the ground floor that led to the great hall. Behind them thirty paces and around the corner was the small waiting area where they had last seen Fluttershy, and beyond that was the throne room where the rest of the gala guests remained.

Only a minute before, Halcyon had dispatched a group of two other guards down the other connecting corridor on the other side of the palace where the two teams were then to make visual contact with each other from across the great hall.

Across the great hall, Rarity thought, where the wall-shaking tremors and shivering clangs of battle rang out.

Rarity frowned at her own selflessness.

Halcyon’s head finally poked out from behind the wall and into the doorway. He stood there for a long moment, ears straight up and eyes transfixed.

“What do you see?” Applejack asked, raising a hoof.

“Celestia and Luna,” he murmured. “They are fighting with the monsters.”

Rarity watched as Applejack slowly lowered her hoof to the floor. The earth pony stepped to Halcyon’s side, wrapping a foreleg around the guard’s neck as she leaned forward to peek around the doorway as well. They remained like that for a long moment, transfixed on what lay around the corner.

To Rarity, the only sounds to be heard was the methodical clash of metal against metal. A particularly strong explosion sent vibrations through the floor and up her legs.

“Well, I’ll be,” Applejack whispered.

“Yep,” said Halcyon.

A cloud of dust slowly worked its way through the doorway and into their hall.

“Ain’t that a sight.”

“One I never thought I’d see.”

“Never seen her so mad before.”

Rarity blew out a heavy breath.

Blast it.

Rarity rose and quickly stepped to Applejack’s side.

There in the center of the great hall Rarity saw them.

Celestia and Luna; the two red monsters; they circled each other like wolves in the night. It was a standstill, Rarity realized, a temporary cessation of combat so that both parties may regroup and catch their breaths.

Not that the monsters appeared fatigued however. The one in spiked armor paced back and forth, not once taking his gaze off of the princesses, while the one in the back simply stood in place almost a statue in her stillness.

Celestia and Luna had adapted a similar formation–Luna in the front with Celestia several paces behind her. Both their horns were alight, their spells obvious to anyone with eyes.

Around the combatants and almost dominating the entirety of the hall stood a massive blue barrier, its surface like that of ice. Inside, Rarity could see plain-as-day several scattered golden domes that met with the floor. They were about the size of a pony.

Or a guard.

She recalled the heat as she ran, the screams that seemed to chase her down the hall.

“I see their plan,” Halcyon whispered. “They aim to keep the monsters contained while–”

“–protecting those still trapped inside,” Rarity finished. She turned to the lieutenant. “We need to act. Princess Celestia would not be protecting them if they were already dead.”

“I think I see your fellows there.” Applejack pointed directly across the great hall where two stallions in gold helmets could just be seen peeking out from the eastern doorway.

Halcyon looked ready to speak when movement inside the barrier drew their gaze.

The spiked one lunged at Luna, the barbed sword in his grip ripping through the air in a vicious horizontal arc. Just as it was certain the blow would connect, there materialized a massive steel axe encased in shimmering blue magic. It intercepted the sword and sent it recoiling to the side. The axe’s edge drowned in intricate glowing runes only for Rarity to lose sight of them as the axe was brought down in a colossal slam that sent up chunks of shattered tile.

The spiked one had dashed out of the way and surged at the princess once more. As the monster angled his next strike, Luna’s horn gave off a brilliant pulse, dissipating the axe lodged in the floor in an explosion of blue fragments only for another weapon to reappear by her side that same instant–a shining blue claymore already in mid-cleave, severing the air that the spiked one’s head had occupied just moments before.

Rarity gasped.

And she could only watch as this continued, the magnificent finesse in which Luna rotated through an armory, the titanic strength she willed into each strike.

Rarity realized her fear then. Not of the princess but of her opponent; the spiked red monster that moved like Solaire but simply was not. A monstrosity that matched Luna blow for blow. The embodiment of a grotesque nightmare she had not yet dreamed of. He moved with such a fluid brutality, an erratic yearning to hurt, a simple longing to kill, that Rarity knew. Rarity knew he would. He would eventually land a blow on Luna and that would be it.

Applejack’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Focus, y’all. Lieutenant Halcyon, what’s the plan?”

“Right,” he said. “We retrieve the wounded.”

Applejack paused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all I’ve got.”

His head turning on a quick swivel, Halcyon broke their little formation and took a few steps into the great hall proper. He looked left and then right before glancing back towards the two girls.

“Not counting the ones inside the barrier, I see six downed friendlies on our side of the hall. We’ll run the hall’s perimeter first and work our way back from there. Are you two ready?”

Rarity gave a shaky nod.

Applejack lowered the brim of her hat.

“Then let’s go,” said the stallion.

****

Once more, Twilight appeared in the throne room.

As expected a full team of medical ponies were waiting in the courtyard at Celestia’s school and it was only seconds before that she was helping load the wounded onto stretchers and watched them carried into school itself.

Twilight started her descent into the mass of gala guests below, and her hooves had just touched tile when a mare stuck her face uncomfortably close.

“You’re here to get us out too, right?”

“Those monsters are coming for us!” cried another.

“I demand to go first!” shouted a voice right in her ear.

Twilight grit her teeth.

“I’ll be getting everypony out!” Twilight yelled. She steadied herself and took a deep breath. “Everyone just take like ten steps back and listen. I can take only about twenty of you at a time. I estimate there’s about two hundred ponies in this room so it will take multiple trips!”

She scanned the crowd, fighting back the persistent headache pounding behind her eyes. Twilight soon caught sight of a small colt pressed between the legs of his parents.

She made up her mind.

“I understand there’s children here so I’ll be taking them and their families first,” she announced to the room. “So if you have a child with you please gather around me so that we may go!”

The sea of ponies became abuzz with murmurs and movement as the crowds shifted around those stepping forward. One by one emerged the frightened families until soon she was flanked on all sides by those she had called forth. Horn alight, Twilight rotated in place, catching glances of relieved mothers and worried fathers, of red-eyed colts and trembling fillies.

And then she saw Pinkie Pie standing just a couple paces away, her friend’s expression a blank mask. Soon after, Twilight caught sight of the little saffron-coated filly glued to Pinkie’s side.

“Pinkie? What’re you–”

Space warped.

And in the next instant Twilight and everyone around her found themselves standing not on tile but on crisp grass. The night air hit her like cold water. Stars shone down on them from above and soon they were awash with a different kind of noise as guards in gold ushered the crowd out of the brilliant white circle that had been drawn on the ground not five minutes before.

Twilight found Pinkie waiting at the circle’s edge, absentmindedly patting the head of the filly still at her side. The little thing couldn’t have been older than Sweetie Belle.

Pinkie watched her approach, a half-smile already prepared.

“Hiya, Twilight.”

“Hi, Pinkie.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Twilight looked her friend over. “You too.” Pinkie seemed deflated. Worn out.

She found her gaze drawn to the saffron pegasus filly.

“I haven’t gotten her name yet,” Pinkie explained as if reading Twilight’s mind. “Isn’t that right, chickadee?”

Pinkie smiled down at the filly but the little thing only pressed herself deeper into Pinkie’s leg. The filly wore a forlorn expression and stared at nothing, her giant eyes glassy and lifeless.

When Pinkie looked back at Twilight, it was with a fragile smile that verged on breaking.

“I found her standing by the door to the garden,” Pinkie began in a quiet tone. “She was just staring out into the fog and…”

Pinkie’s throat bobbed up and down.

“...I think her parents were out there when it came down.”

Twilight shut her eyes.

Just breathe.

She couldn’t bare to look.

Just breathe.

Several seconds had passed before she could trust herself to look once more.

Pinkie stared back at her, a concerned expression on her face. Her mouth opened slightly.

“This isn’t your fault, Twilight.”

The words came like daggers.

“And nopony would ever ever blame you for any of this.”

The blues of her eyes were relentless.

“And you’re giving it your all and that's so you, you know? But–” Pinkie licked her lips. “–your all is all that you have and if you give it all away there will be nothing of you left. So please, don’t blame yourself, Twilight. Everything will be okay. I promise.”

The bustle of the courtyard filled the silence between them.

Twilight sparked her horn.

“You’ll stay with her?” Twilight asked.

“I won’t leave her side.”

“Then I’ll be back. Rainbow Dash is around here somewhere.”

Pinkie stepped forward. “Twilight, please stay safe.”

But the words came just as the unicorn disappeared from sight.

****

Inside her mind, Celestia reeled. Eleven barriers for eight lives. Three of her guards had succumbed, their injuries much too critical for the wait she had put them through. And all she could do was shield them as she felt their lives slip away one ragged breath at a time. Despite their deaths and despite the drain on her energy, she kept the barriers up; her opponents did not need to know of the ones they had killed.

They did not deserve to know.

In the corner of her eye she saw Luna land a glancing blow on Kirk’s armor.

She and her sister would stalemate at this rate as handicapped as they were. Celestia could feel on the hairs of her coat the energy that Luna dedicated to the giant dome containing their fight, and Celestia herself had defaulted to protecting the remaining of her guard unfortunate enough to have fallen in the battle’s vicinity. They themselves could both protect their charges and fend off the intruders, but time was limited and their opponents showed no signs of stopping.

She saw her sister shoot her a quick glance.

Across the dome Adria stood stock-still, her pulsing red form an unnatural hole punched through reality.

Celestia frowned at the human. She would have pinned them to the ceiling if she could only wrap her magic around them. She’d have teleported them into an indeterminate patch of sky if only they had understandable mass to teleport, and she’d have already buried them beneath two tons of palace rubble if there weren’t roughly three hundred guests still inside.

Let alone the eight of her guard that lay within twenty paces of her.

If her opponent would not act then Celestia was more than happy to oblige. As secretive as her ponies had been, she had seen them enter the great hall; two from the east and three from the west. The rescue teams had sprinted between columns until they had reached the far side of the room, and now, as Celestia looked past Adria’s shoulder, she could just see their forms start gathering up the wounded who had fallen outside of their barriers.

If Adria was aware of their presence she made no show of it.

Celestia watched as the human brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

The human had pulled off her hood some time ago, revealing her eyes as two unseeing black pits. From her belt hung an elaborately-guarded rapier she had yet to draw, and held in front of her, its base planted in the ground was her staff–a long branch of twisting black wood.

“You baffle me,” Adria said suddenly.

It was only as close as they were now that Celestia realized that her mouth moved out of sync with her words. Despite herself, a chill crept down the princess’s back.

“You’ve gone to such lengths to shield them from us that you have yet to launch even a single strike.”

“Their lives take precedence over everything else,” Celestia replied.

“Lives? They are nothing but charcoal in your spell.” Adria gestured to the nearest golden barrier with a casual flick of a hand. “See this one there? In the throes of death. And there, that one has not breathed for a while yet.”

Outside of Luna’s dome, the rescue teams continued their efforts. Most of the wounded were carried in magic stretchers, but Celestia could just make out an earth pony hoisting one of the injured on her back.

Applejack?

Celestia poured the extra bit of effort into turning her barriers completely opaque, thus blocking her wounded guards from the invader’s sight.

“You think hiding them from me will change their fate? You are prisoner to your own sensibilities, horse. You have sacrificed everything and protected nothing. Your kind lays dead, and for what? Watch me, and you shall see what your actions have earned you.”

In one quick flourish Adria drew her rapier from its scabbard. She held it out in front of her in a horizontal fist, its wire-thin blade parallel with the ground. And Celestia watched as Adria raised her staff by its neck and joined her two weapons overhead. Crossguard met wood and in a slow deliberate motion Adria ran her staff across the rapier’s edge from handle to tip.

The effects were immediate.

A glassy chime hummed from the rapier and filled the hall as jagged blue crystals sprouted from its blade. The crystals jutted out at harsh angles and the air itself seemed to sing with energy as Adria brought the weapon down to her side with a quick snap of her arm.

Somewhere to her left Luna cried out.

Celestia couldn’t afford to look. Could not even afford her sister’s battle a momentary glance. Not with the the threat that stood before her, no.

“Let me ease some of your burdens,” Adria began as she started toward one of the golden barriers. Her steps echoed even through the metallic clang of battle. She stopped at the barrier’s edge, her crystalline rapier a silent promise to the murder to come. “An animal need not be shackled by duties above its station.”

Celestia had deliberated for as long as she dared, waited for a signal that might never come. Twilight had escaped hadn’t she? And Twilight was no fool. If she had teleported to the school then she surely would have created a teleportation beacon there as well. Ponies would be there waiting to receive the wounded and her efforts to preserve the lives of her guards would not have been in vain.

She redoubled her efforts, sending out a dozen more invisible probes in search of Twilight’s magic.

Adria brought the rapier high above her head, its barbed edge angled straight at the dome below her. Straight at the pony concealed inside.

A bead of sweat trailed into Celestia’s brow. She could sense Twilight’s magic from across the city as easily as spotting a splash of black paint on a white wall, but she needed more. What she was needed a beacon. She needed a guide. She needed a guarantee of safety that, if it was even there, was buried beneath layers and layers of Twilight’s magic.

So many lives were in her hooves but they were not hers to cast so recklessly into the unknown.

As one part of her mind pushed through the interference, another part registered that she was out of time.

Celestia watched as it happened, the downward arc that was Adria’s rapier. She could sense the raw energy that poured off its blade, off the massive crystals that had sprouted there. She could see the wicked smile that had formed on Adria’s lips. And in Celestia’s mind, a thousand-and-one decisions raged. She had less than a second to choose.

There.

In the span of a blink she sensed it.

It took even less time to fire off her spell. In a crack of energy her eleven barriers disappeared in a blinding flash and a terrible sound rang out as the crystalline rapier sank deep into the floor.

Celestia could almost see the confusion in Adria’s posture as the human looked at the empty tile beneath her. Slowly, Adria raised her gaze at the princess. And then came a clarity, evident in her opponent’s straightening stance. In that moment Celestia knew she should have expected it. Things had gone her way long enough.

Celestia felt only painstaking helplessness as Adria turned and looked over her shoulder straight at the rescue team beyond Luna’s barrier, at the three ponies exposed in plain sight. Celestia saw them, Rarity and Applejack and Lieutenant Halcyon, the six of her injured guard, all of them completely unaware of the danger coming their way. Adria raised her staff with such speed, such finality, Celestia knew she would not be able to stop her.

A poor decision meant death. A calculated decision meant death. Inaction meant death. There was only the right decision and the ever-shrinking amount of time to make it.

She felt it in the air, the damnable convergence of energy focused at the tip of Adria’s staff. She saw the crystals forming there, and through Luna’s barrier she saw Halcyon freeze mid-step, his eyes wide and wild.

Luna’s barrier would not hold. There needed to be another. Just enough to divert the projectile.

Conviction in her eyes, Celestia sparked her horn.

****

Applejack was sure that Rarity had screamed something just before her entire world became dust and smoke. Her vision swam. Sounds were muted. She took one step, and then another. After the third, something buckled and there came the unmistakable feeling of lying on one’s side. Soon after came the silent acknowledgment that she had slipped.

Slipped like a foal stepping on a toy with wheels.

She thought of Applebloom.

And in that moment, Applejack became acutely aware of the pulsing pressure radiating from the side of her head.

Oh, she thought.

We were doing something, she remembered. Something important.

There came the sensation of being dragged along the floor.

We were rescuing ponies because they were hurt and they would surely die just like I’m dying right now and oh sweet Celestia I’m-

“Applejack!”

Her friend sounded tinny and distant but she could recognize her voice anywhere.

“Applejack!” Rarity screamed again.

“Can you get her up?” said another. Halcyon.

“I can’t! She’s too…”

Applejack could feel the legs of her friend wrapped around her torso.

“She’s too–”

“Don’t say it,” Applejack groaned. “I can stand. Just… Rarity, you’re puttin’ all your weight on me.”

“Oh!”

As Rarity pulled away, Applejack forced her eyes open only for her friend’s worried face to obscure her vision. Over Rarity’s shoulder she could spy Halcyon leaning against the castle wall, his breathing heavy.

“You two okay?” Applejack asked.

“Us? You are asking us?” There was an edge to Rarity’s voice but her eyes continued to scan. Eventually her gaze settled, not quite meeting Applejack’s eyes.

“You’re bleeding,” Rarity said as if announcing fact.

“We have to go,” added Halcyon, his horn bathed in green light. In front of him six ponies on solid slabs of green light were lifted off the ground.

The guards they had set out to rescue lay in various states of catastrophe, their forms horrifyingly still. One of them bled, and for a brief moment the world was quiet enough that Applejack could hear the soft pitter-patter of his blood dripping from his armor and onto the floor.

“They okay?” Applejack asked. Her mouth tasted like copper and her tongue felt like sludge. The words came like dripping molasses.

“She took a hard hit,” said Halcyon. “You might have to have to help her walk.”

“What about them?” Rarity asked. She gestured to the rescued guards.

Halcyon was already moving. “Help her. I can manage them the rest of the way. We have to go.”

She said nothing else. As Rarity stepped to her side and slipped her head into the crook beneath Applejack’s foreleg, it was only then that Applejack realized that they were back in the western connecting corridor that led back to the throne room.

“What happened?” Applejack breathed.

The bob of purple mane that was Rarity didn’t answer. Applejack couldn’t see her face, couldn’t know what she was thinking. Rarity counted something and she stood them both to their hooves. They took a few cautious steps forward.

“Rarity, I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. She felt like she was walking through a swamp on stilts.

She thought of Apple Bloom. Darn girl did the most foolish things.

“Just lean on me, darling.”

They continued on. Applejack noticed the streaks of red that ran through Rarity’s mane.

“Rarity, you’re bleedin’.”

A pause.

“Darling, that is your blood.”

Applejack then focused on the wetness she could feel dripping down the side of her face.

“What happened?” she asked again.

Rarity was silent for a brief moment.

“One of the humans fired a spell at us.”

Applejack felt through her coat Rarity’s fatigued breaths. They continued on.

“A blue light,” Rarity explained. “That’s all I saw of it. I was certain that it was going to hit us.”

Up ahead was Halcyon, ten paces away.

“It veered at the last second, the spell.” Rarity lowered her tone. “I’m not certain if it was he that... I shan’t dwell on it. But he had put up a shield. Halcyon, that is. Or perhaps it was the princess, it all happened so fast. In any case the spell changed course. Are you starting to remember, Applejack?”

She cracked open her right eye. She could feel the left one swelling shut.

“Forgive me for asking,” said Rarity. She took on a more hopeful tone. “Or can you?”

“Nope.”

“Ah.” The unicorn sniffed. “The spell veered and struck the pillar in front of us. You were ahead of us both and so close to the explosion, that… well, when the dust started clearing, I was certain I was going to have to dig you out from the rubble.”

Applejack shut her eye. There simply was no ignoring the steady stream of blood dripping from her brow.

“I’m mighty sorry, Rarity.”

“Whatever for?”

“For makin’ a mess of your hair.”

They continued on.

“Hush now, Rarity said. “We’re almost there.”

****

“So what are these things?” Solaire heard Spike ask.

They ran through the halls of Canterlot Palace, Solaire’s heavy footfalls echoing through the silent halls. For the last ten minutes they had navigated the freezing fog outside and had managed to smash through the first window they came across. If they had to wander through it for even a few moments longer, Solaire suspected he would have ended up with his fingers blued to the point of death. It would not have been first time that had happened, but Solaire had a suspicion he would be needing his digits very soon. Even now, some remnants of frost clung to Solaire’s armor.

“Like monsters?” Spike continued. The dragon had proved to be especially resistant to the fog’s effects.

“In a sense, yes - they are monsters,” Solaire said. “But they are like me as well.”

“Human?”

“Undead.” Solaire flexed his fingers as they ran, squeezing away the tingling numbness that had come with the cold. “Undead who have chosen to walk the path of self-preservation.”

“I don’t get it. How is wanting to live a terrible thing?”

“They survive by killing others and taking that which does not belong to them. They and their ilk haunt only the darkest and most desolate places of my world and now they have come here.”

“It can’t be the same way you did. They’d have come through the fire.”

“No. Not through the fire, no. I believe my coming here was a fluke, Spike. A mistake. I cast an unformed miracle in the throes of death at the exact moment your Twilight Sparkle created something akin to a bonfire.”

“I take it those fires are pretty important.”

“Yes. They bear a certain significance in my world. Among other things, those with the knowledge may use the bonfires to traverse great distances. What Twilight had created was a doorway to which my miracle was the key. And when I stepped through, I suspect the door remained open behind me.”

Spike gestured for them to turn left. They continued on at a brisk pace.

“As for the how they followed me,” Solaire continued, “I can’t explain. Not fully, in any case.”

“Maybe just start with what you do? It’s not like I’m writing a thesis paper or anything. Just a mutual sharing of information. Maybe it’ll help.”

Solaire let out a quick exhale.

“They used an old magic. Very old. Ancient. Older than me to be sure, and perhaps older than the gods themselves.”

“Huh.”

“Those with such an art are called darkwraiths. They are terrifying foes for they fear nothing. Not even their own demise. They may as well be unstoppable. You stand your ground and die. Or you hide. You cannot even run for the fog always presages their arrival.”

“You make them sound like they’re Terminators or something.”

Solaire looked towards the dragon.

“Nevermind,” said Spike. “It’s stupid.”

“No, please. Tell me about these ‘Terminators’.”

Spike’s face scrunched up. “They’re from an old movie,” he said. “Basically like killer robots from the future. Twilight wouldn’t let me watch it, but… yeah. The bad robot would get all sorts of messed up. Shot with magic. Blown up. Frozen. But it would keep coming back. And it would keep trying to kill them.”

The dragon grew quiet. “They eventually had to melt the bad robot in like a literal vat of lava to win. But… the good robot died, too. To save the others.”

There was a pause between them.

“Mister Solaire, do you know how to beat these things?”

“Spike, you must understand something. The way they have come here - invading this world - it is not their real bodies. It’s a spirit, or manifestation. A phantom. You may defeat one in physical combat but it will always come back. Sometimes minutes later.”

“Then how do we win?”

They continued through the palace. Solaire thought he could hear things just ahead, the quiet murmurings of a restless crowd bouncing through the silent halls.

“We’re getting close,” Spike affirmed.

They came to a hall with tall ornate windows to their left. Beyond the glass and frost all they could see was the blanket of white mist.

“The fog,” Solaire said. “Darkwraiths always come with the fog. That’s how we win. They will stop when the fog lifts.”

Solaire quickened his pace.

“Pray that your princesses have held their ground.”

****

On some unspoken cue, Celestia and her sister took to the air. They hovered a great distance above the intruders. A few more meters upward and they would have bumped into the great hall’s ceiling. At once, Celestia thought of the birds that would occasionally fly in and get trapped within the labyrinthine confines of the palace. Frightened and confused, The birds would flit from place to place until someone would open a nearby window and let the poor things out.

Except no one was coming to help them.

Something akin to anger flashed across Celestia’s face.

“Are you alright?” Celestia asked.

The two princesses had been looking down at the two red forms below but now turned toward each other. Their chests heaved liked bellows. Beads of sweat dotted their brow. Celestia for the first time saw the furious gash that tore across the base of her sister’s neck. It dripped dark red lines down her shoulder and leg and Celestia watched as a fat drop pooled at the tip of her sister’s hoof before falling down far to the floor.

Luna began in a low tone.

“That one fights dirty, the little wretch. Quick, too. He knows how to use that armor as well.” She once more looked down at the intruders. “These are no novices, sister. If I hadn’t whetted my tongue in that duel against Solaire, I suspect I’d have suffered more than just this scratch.”

Luna sagged in the air a little, and Celestia noticed the small scratches that covered her sister’s body.

As if sensing Celestia’s gaze, Luna straightened and gave Celestia a small smile.

“Worry not about me, sister. Tell me of the sorceress.”

Celestia considered her words for a moment.

“I do not think she is happy about our small victory,” Celestia began. “They had us at a disadvantage with our wounded littering the field. And now that they’ve been stolen away from them…”

“They will be on guard.”

“Yes. Even more so.”

“Do you believe they were holding back?”

“I cannot say. Perhaps only measuring our strength. ‘Feeling us out’, as they are apt to say these days. But that matters not. Senseless violence is not why they have come, sister. You were away when they materialized on the walkway. She spoke of Solaire. She asked if we were sheltering him.”

“I have gathered as much,” Luna said. “I was with him and Spike and when they came. Solaire sensed them somehow, or perhaps recognized the freezing fog. It is a harbinger of their arrival no doubt.”

“Are they safe?” Celestia asked.

“I left them at the top of my tower.”

Luna did not need to say more. When Celestia had Luna’s tower constructed, it was built as a mirror of her own. But in the months following her sister’s return, Luna started with the modifications. At first the changes were slow and small. She’d change the flooring here, a window there. She would rearrange the furniture, or perhaps have a whole new set of tables and chairs the following day. Since Celestia never saw ponies coming in or out of her sister’s courtyard, she could only assume that Luna was doing the work herself.

At the time Celestia thought of fillies and colts becoming grown, how they took their bedrooms from a place where they merely slept and changed it into reflections of themselves, an outward display of their developing lifestyles and personalities.

Then in a manner entirely befitting her sister, Luna completely removed any trace of the stairs and erected ancient barrier-spells that would keep anyone unwanted out.

Or, Celestia supposed, anyone inside trapped within. For individuals incapable of flight, the only way out of Luna’s tower was a quick step out of the top-story window. It would be a fall that would surely kill Solaire, but not that death was a deterrent to such as he. After all, hadn’t he fallen out of her own tower not days prior?

A different matter, Celestia thought. One that could wait.

“We need to destroy them now,” Luna said. Her wings flapped a powerful, uneven beat.

Eagerness or nerves, Celestia didn’t know. Perhaps both.

Celestia once more eyed the jagged cut on Luna’s neck. Calling Kirk’s weapon as merely a sword would not call to mind the razor-sharp barbs that jutted from its every surface. It was a thing more apt to tearing away chunks of flesh than severing with clean blows.

And it had tasted her sister’s blood.

Far below, the two ghosts stood a little ways from each other as they looked up at the two airborne princesses.

“We will separate them.” Celestia began. “You will divide the room in two. From top to bottom. Wall to wall. We will then dive the greater of the threats.”

“The sorceress.”

Celestia nodded. “She can break our barriers but the knight cannot. We will have to be quick.”

Adria’s rapier was still wreathed in those blue crystals, and Celestia thought of how the weapon so easily shattered her shield-magic and cracked open the floor. She thought of the projectile that Adria had launched from her staff when they first appeared, that crystalline lance that shot over the heads of her subjects and almost split Captain Rook in half from chest to tailbone.

The rhythm of her own heartbeat pulsed in Celestia’s ears. This Adria had mastery over a magic that her sister had birthed, and later, a magic that Celestia herself would strangle in its infancy. And for the first time in a long time, Celestia felt a different kind of fear.

Fear, Celestia had discovered long ago, came in many different flavors. Fear for her subjects came the most easily and frequent. She tasted this one on an almost daily basis; from the moment she woke, to the moment she would lay the sun down to sleep, a thousand thoughts would come and go on what could go wrong, what she could have done differently, and how much better off her ponies would be if only she were stronger.

Better.

She feared for them as a mother would fear for her child, and it was a taste she had grown accustomed to for it reminded her that her heart had not yet turned to stone in the cold passage of time, and that she could still care for those whose lives passed her by like seasons, everlasting in their impermanence.

The fear she tasted now was sour. It weighed heavy in her throat and sat like a stone within her stomach.

Celestia feared for herself, she realized. She feared for her life and the thought that those two phantoms who had invaded her palace and home were very much capable of ending it.

She shot her sister a quick glance. No words needed to be spoken, for they had already been said long ago. Said in those quiet moments millennia ago by a crackling campfire under the moonlit sky. Their soldiers huddled in tents all around them as just over the hills the vast hordes of their enemies conspired in lost tongues and guttural languages on how best to snuff out their and their peoples’ lives. How many memories existed of those battlefields, of their victories and defeats, of the people who lived, loved, and died under their command?

Too numerous to count, she thought. Celestia focused her gaze on the figures below.

Celestia reached for it then, that brilliant strand of pure sunlight that existed in this realm but also in all others. It had lay dormant for a thousand years, but at the faintest hint of her touch it shivered and swelled and jumped. With a snarl she grasped it with her magic and with a mighty pull, yanked the spear back into reality. It emerged as if appearing from thin air. The haft came first, a brilliant rod of silver and gold that reflected no light for it was light. Anyone else would have turned away from that blinding radiance—even Luna had cast her gaze aside—but Celestia looked on, her eyes not pink but emitting a harsh golden glow. Her horn appeared as if on fire. The columns lining the great hall put off shadows of pure black.

Inch by inch the shining haft emerged from the aether until with a final metallic ring came the blade of Arkaliir. The spear’s edge measured more than a foot. The weapon itself glowed with latent energy and the air around it shimmered in a haze of heat. Once more she held the spear that had ended wars within her magic.

Celestia listened for that song, the hum that precluded death. It would take less than a second for her to reach the floor, less than a second to kill her enemy.

She let out a slow exhale - the remnant of a long-forgotten breath - and meteored downward.

Arkaliir led her charge, its edge a falling star in the middle of the great hall. Below, Adria moved with an uncanny speed as she conjured five crystalline spheres that floated in an arc above her head. Celestia could sense Luna behind her and saw her magic form a transparent blue wall between the two phantoms.

Closer.

Adria pointed her staff into the air. The crystalline spheres shot upward.

A golden barrier materialized without a thought. Old instincts returning. The spheres struck the barrier in quick succession. One, two, three. Each shattered. Four. The barrier cracking. The fifth broke through and headed straight for her.

Closer still.

Celestia angled her dive. No time to block.

The sphere shot past her head, trailing a blue light.

Crystallized soul.

She heard an impact, and Luna cry out.

Don’t look back.

The tip of Adria’s staff pulsed blue, and Celestia thought of Captain Rook. His dead form, the soul spear that shredded him to pieces.

The soul spear exploded from the phantom’s staff in a flash of blinding blue light. Celestia almost had to look away. There would be no dodging this.

With every ounce of magical might she could afford, Celestia hurled Arkaliir downward. The two projectiles met and for just a moment, Celestia stopped in awe at the spectacular forces that had clashed in front of her. But Arkaliir never failed. It shattered the crystalline mass in a deafening pulse and continued to bullet towards its intended target.

Celestia sparked her horn.

Arkaliir cratered the tile in a flare of dust and debris. Adria had avoided the spear, but just barely. When faced against such power and speed, she had to have known that a straight-forward assault was likely what would have come next. But as Adria looked from the spear embedded in the floor, and then skyward and saw only Luna, Celestia allowed herself a small smile.

There would be no keys for the glowing gold shackles she placed around the phantom’s ankles and wrists. Its chains led into the floor itself. The shackles themselves were heavier than boulders. Celestia knew that such magic required precision and a certain proximity to ensure success. Within hoof’s reach, if one wanted to be sure.

Just behind her target proved to be close enough.

Horn still hot from the teleportation, Celestia cast another spell. And before Adria could turn Celestia rammed the spell into the center of Adria’s back. It was a simple spell, really. The shaping of her magic into a specific form and then hardened as to be unbreakable. The form she chose a blade, now piercing her opponent’s heart. Black smoke seeped from the site.

Celestia stepped just a bit to the side. Luna impacted the floor an instant later in a thunderous crash of pulverized tile. She skidded along the floor, her hooves leaving trenches as she came to an eventual stop a few meters away. She almost didn’t hear the rush of displaced air from the weapon’s swing amidst the cacophonous roar from her sister’s landing. Celestia regarded her sister and then the massive claymore that hovered by Luna’s side.

They both turned toward the decapitated form that was Adria. Still bound in shackles, the phantom had grown slack. Her head had bounced soundlessly to the floor just a few steps away, and before either of the sisters could speak, Adria’s corpse evaporated into a black mist, and then into nothingness altogether.

Celestia’s throat bobbed up and down. She did not miss the notch of flesh missing from the top of her sister’s ear. She recalled what just transpired and could almost see the events happen in her mind. Celestia had dodged the last crystalline sphere during their dive though Luna was directly behind her. It must have sought her sister next. Luna then destroyed the sphere, but not completely. The projectile must have shattered and taken a piece of her sister with it.

The wound dripped a deep red down the side of Luna’s face.

Then realization struck them both at the same time. They looked beyond Luna’s barrier to the other side of the great hall. The barrier fell, but no one stood on the other side. No sign of Kirk. No sign of the other phantom. All they saw was the eastern doorway, open and unattended.

Against all their expectations, Kirk had fled.

Celestia wanted to cry out.

Why didn’t they think of this? Why did they think that they would both stand and fight?

The stone of fear returned to Celestia’s stomach. Or perhaps it had been there all along.

****

The two princesses followed the screams where they were led away from the great hall and down one of the service corridors reserved for palace staff. Despite everything, Celestia found a small part of herself grateful that Kirk hadn’t stumbled upon the throne room where the rest of the Gala guests were hiding. One turn and he very well may have had at his mercy hundreds of unarmed and very frightened ponies.

Celestia thought of the fire magic he used and the brutal efficiency at which he wielded it. She thought of how quickly he had dispatched her guard, and for what purpose? These weren’t beings that valued life, least of all Kirk. Had they made the right decision, dispatching the sorceress first? Kirk had already proven himself capable of killing innocent ponies. And with such indiscriminate destruction, as well. Perhaps this was something they had planned all along - to take as many lives as possible - their true objective of finding Solaire a simple ruse. Celestia shook her head.

“There, sister.” Luna pointed with a wing down a darkened corridor.

Celestia saw it at the same moment. The door to the eastern kitchen had been smashed off its hinges and lay in shattered pieces inside the doorway. She could see the remnants of a makeshift barricade - a metal shelf and a steel table - had been pushed aside and lay like scattered toys inside the room. Whoever had hidden here had deemed it prudent to extinguish all the lights leading to their hiding spot.

An agonized scream came from within.

Enough.

Celestia visualized it then and warped herself inside. She reappeared within the kitchen aglow and wings spread, floating high in the center of the room. She spared not a thought for the carnage within. The fresh blood pooling across the floor. The five ponies bashed apart, their faces slack and eyes glassy and unseeing. She spared not a thought for the food still on the cold burners, the trays of small plates awaiting their final garnishes before they were to be taken to the Gala. She saw only Kirk, and the tiny pony he held suspended in front of him with an iron, strangulating grip.

The spiked helmet turned slightly in her direction.

Celestia knew this pony. She knew all of the ponies who worked in the palace. Now Kirk was using Autumn Run as a shield and hostage as he slowly turned to face the arrivals. Celestia sensed Luna standing just to her right by the door.

“Let her go,” Celestia whispered.

The red gauntlet only tightened. Celestia suspected if he squeezed any harder, Autumn Run’s throat would be crushed within his fist. Her legs shook like leaves and her breaths came in pained rapid wheezes. Autumn turned her head slowly, shakily, as far as she could towards the princess. And Celestia saw the begging in her eyes. The begging to save her life. The begging for just one more day with her family. One more hour. A second.

The fist pulsed red.

****

Twilight had made quick work of rescuing the palace guests. All in all, it had taken seven round-trips to teleport them all to Celestia’s school. Each trip had left her more drained than the last to the point that her latest teleport back to the throne room had been fueled on nothing but the faintest dregs of her magic.

She would have to manage one more. Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy were still inside.

On her previous rotation Twilight had seen Fluttershy standing watch just outside the throne room. Now,Twilight saw her pacing side to side just in front of the doors. The pegasus looked up, let out a sharp breath when she saw Twilight, and started towards her at a hurried pace.

“Twilight! Oh, Twilight!” Fluttershy glanced about eyes wide as if unsure where to place her gaze.

“What is it? What happened?” Twilight asked. She reached out a hoof.

Fluttershy grabbed it and began pulling her towards the door. “Please, oh I’m so sorry, Twilight. Please hurry.”

Twilight only nodded and fell in step behind her friend. They crossed the throne room doors and entered the foyer where guests were usually made to wait when seeking audience with the princesses. It was in this room previously where they had placed the wounded, now afresh with eleven more of the wounded guard. Three guardsponies seemingly uninjured stood vigil over their comrades and were busy administering whatever first-aid they could.

Twilight recognized Halcyon, who offered a nod in greeting. Twilight nodded back.

They rescued these ponies who were trapped in the great hall,” Fluttershy began. “Rarity and Applejack went with them, a-and Applejack…”

The pegasus didn’t have to point - she cast her worried eyes over Twilight’s shoulder and to the far side of the room.

Twilight tensed, and looked.

There she saw Rarity and Applejack sitting on the chairs lined up against the wall. Rarity had turned her chair to face Applejack’s, horn aglow as a needle and thread danced across Applejack’s forehead. Applejack herself sat facing the rest of the room, posture loose as if she were asleep. Twilight knew this wasn’t case as the two ponies carried on with a subdued conversation she couldn’t quite hear.

Fresh blood dribbled down from the gash above Applejack’s brow. Rarity tutted, tore off and rolled a piece of her dress, and pressed the bundled cloth firmly against the wound. The red soaked through in a manner of seconds. She pulled it away and started once more on the suturing.

Twilight and Fluttershy approached.

“…looking very good,” they heard Rarity say. “It should only be a few more moments before I am through.”

“You’re pretty good this,” Applejack said. She sounded as if her mouth couldn’t quite hold onto the words. “Never had to have stitches before. Are they supposed to hurt?”

“Not if I’m doing it r-”

“Ouch!”

Rarity pulled away and Applejack cracked open an eye. It flitted towards the newcomers.

“Heya, Twi.” Applejack smiled. “Fluttershy, you found her.”

Fluttershy only pursed her lips as she looked between her friends. Her gaze settled on Twilight.

Rarity had stopped her work and greeted Twilight with a small nod, but underneath her gaze, the worry was apparent. They had seen the fighting hadn’t they? Twilight could only speculate as to how Applejack got hurt.

Twilight strained her ears and heard nothing whereas before there had been the thunderous sounds of battle. Had the princesses won? If they had, why weren’t they here?

Twilight pushed the thoughts away.

“It’s good to see you, darling,” Rarity said in a somber tone. She looked Twilight up and down, the question unspoken between them known to them both. They were both unicorns. Rarity had to know she had pushed herself to the limits. Unasked was the question on whether she could manage another teleport, a question she didn’t mind not answering.

Twilight herself didn’t know.

“Are you alright?” Rarity asked. “Sit if you need to. Please.”

Twilight wordlessly fell into the seat beside Rarity, and there she remained, staring down at the floor. Fluttershy sat down next to her, looking out towards the wounded guards with her lips wrinkled in thought. Rarity gave a silent nod of approval before turning once more to Applejack to finish the work.

They sat in silence as Rarity continued. There wasn’t much left to do Twilight could see, and soon Rarity tore the excess stitching with her magic and began wrapping the entirety of Applejack’s forehead in a long length of torn dress. She finished the bandage off in a neat little bow.

“There!” Rarity announced. “I suspect with care and attention, and just the right amount of magic, it won’t even scar.”

“Thank you kindly,” said Applejack “Truly. I’d always known you were a good pony not afraid to get her hooves dirty when it came down to it.”

“I’d do anything for you girls.”

“Not just me.” Applejack pointed a hoof out towards the center of the room. “Them, too. Maybe it changed nothing. Maybe they were gonna get saved with or without us. But we don’t know that. And I wouldn’t change a darn thing.”

Applejack settled once more in her chair and shut her eyes. “You too, Twilight. And you too, Fluttershy. I ain’t got the right to say this but I am mighty proud to call myself your friends.”

Rarity patted the earth pony on her shoulder as she turned and whispered to the others, “I think she’s still a bit dazed.”

“I heard that.”

“But in any case, Twilight. How are you feeling? Really. You teleported all those ponies to where again? Celestia’s school? That must be at least two miles from here! Darling, you must be so exhausted I can hardly even imagine.”

“I am,” said Twilight.

“Take all the time you need. You know what you can manage better than the rest of us.” Rarity paused, her lips a thin line. “But time is of the essence. We absolutely must get everypony out of here, Twilight. I’m sure you are already aware of that fact, pardon my prattling, but I really can’t stress it enough.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said, “You are the only one who can do it.”

Fluttershy stirred in her seat. “But please don’t push yourself, Twilight. You’ve already done so much.”

“Thanks girls,” Twilight said, looking to each of them in turn. “But I think I can do it now. I’ve had some time to rest. Catch my breath. I… yeah. Let’s join the others and I’ll get us all out of here. Can you stand, Applejack?”

“Reckon I’ll have to,” she replied. A smirk appeared. “Unless you’re offerin’ to carry me.”

“Not a chance.”

“Y’know that we’re gonna have to come back for my hat,” Applejack groaned as she stepped out of the seat. Rarity stood closeby offering a guiding hoof.

“I’m sure the princesses are taking good care of it,” said Twilight. “C’mon.”

A familiar sensation washed over the unicorn.

A feeling of the first splash of cold water from a shower. The breath sucked from her lips. The stomach-churning weightlessness that precedes the fall.

Twilight saw her next.

She materialized into existence amongst the wounded, her form a black and red shadow that existed without light. No one moved. A second passed, and then two. The three unwounded guardsponies sat amongst their comrades and friends, their spears propped against the far wall. Halcyon was so close to the phantom he could have brushed her legs with his hooves.

Time seemed to slow as Twilight became acutely aware of the sorrow that crossed Halcyon’s face. His eyes met hers. His mouth closed, and he shut his eyes. When he next opened them, he was looking up at the phantom, brows furrowed in anger and horn alight.

He never finished his barrier spell.

Her rapier ripped through his magic and into his neck. Halcyon was dead before he hit the floor.

Rarity screamed.

****

For those five seconds in that kitchen, the world felt wrong to Celestia. She felt sick. She felt like fleeing, but she could not have turned away even if she wanted to. Her gaze was transfixed on the scene before her, on the sight of Kirk pulling the color of Autumn Run straight out of her eyes and mouth.

He drew the essence into his helmet as he encased the pony in his barbed forearms. They watched as Autumn’s coat turned from a gold to gray. They watched as the pony stilled within his grasp. And they watched as Kirk drained the last of Autumn Run’s soul from her body and into his helmet. That’s all it could have been. Her soul.

He discarded her like refuse to the floor, and without missing a beat, Kirk went for his sword and shield.

Autumn Run’s cutie mark was gone.

No thoughts came to Celestia. Only Arkaliir.

The spear burst forth from the aether and lanced the phantom Kirk straight in his chest. The momentum threw him off his feet and slammed him hard into the wall, impaling him. Celestia gave a smile of satisfaction as the spear’s cross guard kept the rest of the weapon from piercing through. Kirk gripped the handle protruding from his chest, but Celestia pushed him ever harder against the wall. She moved towards him, unblinking, unthinking, as she charged the spear with her magic - a technique she developed during the war against the dragons, one she had created to destroy them from the inside out.

Behind Kirk, the stone wall shuddered and cracked from the huge explosion of energy released from the spear. Already she could see the molten slag leaking from the cracks. The spear’s edge was the focal point for the energy’s release, but Celestia suspected it hurt him all the same. The phantom went limp, head lowering and arms sagging down to his sides.

She stepped closer, eyes alight.

“Sister…” Luna voiced from behind.

“Tell me, Kirk,” Celestia began. “Do you plan on coming here again?”

Nothing.

“Answer me!” Celestia screamed. How long had it been since she used the Royal Canterlot Voice?

She found herself shaking. How many ponies had died tonight? How many at this one’s hands? Celestia stepped closer, side-stepping the spear and moved her face close to his. A part of her wanted to see him suffer. The part that was there before Equestria and before Discord and even before the wars. She had forgotten it was there.

“I don’t need your word,” she whispered. “I want it. I want to hear you say that you will never return.”

The Knight of Thorns stirred and the helmet raised to face her. He edged his head closer as if in defiance.

“You will get no such words from me,” said Kirk. “We-”

Celestia gave a massive push against the spear and pulverized Kirk’s armor and chest. His now-concaved chest leaked black smoke in great gouts.

“Not what I wanted to hear,” Celestia said.

She gripped Arkaliir and pulled backwards, bringing its victim along with it. Kirk made not a sound as he was hoisted upward from his impaled chest and made to almost touch the ceiling. It was at this moment that Celestia looked at him closely. His arms and legs hanging limp, his gaze never leaving hers, his fists-

His right hand slowly opened and there, in the center of his palm, floated a small sphere of flame. The flame seemed to turn purple right before her eyes.

Celestia snarled, charging her magic once more into the spear. Arkaliir’s edge began to burn.

Like a bear trap, Kirk’s hand snapped shut around the purple sphere and in an instant a noxious purple gas erupted from his helmet. It poured downward, showering Celestia and blanketing the room in fumes.

Arkaliir’s edge exploded a second later, and with no stone wall to absorb that energy, went straight into the body of Kirk. He evaporated in a blinding flash, leaving nothing behind but trails of smoke, but the damage was done.

Celestia fell to her knees, her lungs seizing with pain. She took a deep breath only for deep red agony to swell in her chest. A copper taste of blood rose in her throat.

Poison.

She felt as if she had inhaled fire and was now drowning in her own liquefying insides. Her vision blurred.

Luna was at her side, looking down at her at her with worry and horn alight. She could feel her sister’s magic washing over her. The pain continued. It hurt to breathe. It would be easier not to.

“No!” she heard Luna cry out.

Celestia felt suddenly warm. Luna’s magic, no doubt. Attempting to burn away the poison.

It wouldn’t work, she wanted to tell her. This wasn’t your average home-grown Equestrian poison, no. This was poison from over there. A poison perfected in a world long dead where corpses walked and monsters cannibalized and traded in souls.

Yes, it would be easier not to breathe.

“No!” Luna screamed.

Celestia felt cold now. And soon, she would feel numb. The thoughts were coming slower. Soon, there would be nothing at all.

She looked at her sister, watched the expressions dance across her beautiful face. Her vision was darkening now. What she wouldn’t give for another moment with them all.

Princess Celestia shut her eyes.

****

Twilight didn’t register the piteous cry she let out as she watched Adria slaughter the other two guards. One was going for his spear. The other hadn’t even rose. They both died without a sound, her red blade puncturing their hearts. Now they lay amongst their wounded comrades, eyes dumb to the world.

Adria started towards them. The room wasn’t very large at all.

Rarity had fallen to her haunches, eyes wide and mouth agape as fresh tears spilled down her face.

Twilight glanced and saw Fluttershy in a familiar state.

She let out a shaky breath. This was it, then. She and her friends were going to die tonight. She would never see Princess Celestia again. Or her family. Or Spike. There would be no more afternoon teas, or falling asleep to a good book.

Twilight thought of the private, personal things she had shelved away for later. The things that would now never happen. She would never find love. Never find the pony of her dreams. Never have foals.

No grandfoals to read their favorite stories to.

She started sobbing, then.

All because of what?

To protect her friends.

Memories of the basement rushed to her mind. Her experiments. The pain she endured.

Applejack was standing in front of them all, her stance wide in defiance.

“No way,” she heard Applejack whisper. “You ain’t gettin’ to them. Not to ANY OF US!”

Adria stopped, her head tilting in curiosity. She looked to each of them in turn before once more settling on Applejack. She didn’t speak as she reached for her staff and pointed it straight at her friend.

“C’mon!” Applejack screamed, stepping forward. “Do it!”

Applejack was sobbing now, and Twilight could see her legs shaking.

“I-I ain’t afraid of you!”

Adria’s staff began to glow blue.

“You won’t win,” Applejack whispered.

Twilight could see the crystals gathering at the staff’s tip.

Her mind cleared.

Twilight reached inward, deeper than she had ever reached before. Her research and experiments had only scratched the surface but she knew she could go deeper. She always knew.

Her cutie mark began to burn. She had always suspected that cutie marks were manifestations of something greater than simple talent. Her research only proved that fact. She reached deeper still. If she looked, she was sure that she would see her cutie mark glowing.

Twilight may have burned away all her magic, but her entire magical strength was only a cup of water compared to the entire reservoir that was her soul.

She tapped it, then.

And from her horn burst a bright beam of purple energy that struck Adria square in the chest.

The phantom stumbled and her magic shot went wide.

Everyone turned to face her.

“Twilight!” they cried in unison.

And then the unicorn rose. She stepped in front of Applejack, never taking her eyes off the phantom. She went through the calculations in her mind at a breakneck speed. Twelve of the wounded, her three friends, and the three guards who had fallen, eighteen in all. She encased them all in a purple sphere. Sending ponies away was vastly different than taking ponies with her.

Applejack’s eyes went wide. “Twilight, no!”

They disappeared in a crack of displaced air.

In the foyer outside the throne room of Canterlot Palace, Twilight Sparkle stood alone with the black phantom from Lordran. They faced each other, neither moving a muscle.

It took all of Twilight’s strength to remain on her hooves. Not even in her experiments had she drawn so deeply from the reservoir. She felt as if on fire, every cell in body crying out in protest.

Adria’s lips moved, and then came the words.

“You used soul magic just now, did you not?”

Twilight considered remaining silent.

“Yes,” she eventually said.

“Why didn’t you leave? You could have left with the others.”

“I guess I’m selfish,” Twilight said. “I need to know what you did with the princesses.”

“You mean the white and the blue one. Why, they killed me. Took off my head. As for what Kirk has done to them, I don’t know. He was still here when I returned to my body.” Adria stepped closer. “What is your name?”

Twilight took a step back. She was consciously aware that if she were to give any more ground, she would be backed into the wall.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle. You and your friend killed a lot of ponies today. Don’t think that you will ever, ever get away with it.” There was no plan here. She was blind in unknown rapids.

“Oh.” Another step. “How you abhor me. Do you think I wanted this? And to think my life used to be so simple. I was a student, then. Unearthing the secrets surrounding the soul. The best in my year in fact. It’s burning you, isn’t it? The magic.”

Another step.

“It used to burn me too when I first started. When I was still alive.”

“You didn’t need to kill these ponies.”

“You don’t know what I need to do.” Another step. “I didn’t chase after that softbrain to slaughter innocents. And now he hides, letting all of your folk die for his ignorance. Tell me, Twilight Sparkle, do you think me cruel for wanting to save my world?”

“I won’t let you save yours by destroying mine,” Twilight spat.

In an instant everything turned black as if someone had blown out the candle of the world. Twilight fell backward into the dark, thankful she could still see the faint outline of red that was Adria.

The phantom whirled about, just as perplexed by the darkness as her. Twilight scrabbled backwards along the tile and reached with her hooves until she eventually touched wood and plush cushions.

A chair.

Though she couldn’t even see her nose in front of her eyes, she knew they were still in the foyer at the very least.

Twilight watched as Adria muttered a curse and sparked her staff. A gold ball of light floated from its tip though it hardly illuminated the room. It was as if the darkness was stifling the light.

Adria continued to whirl about as the ball floated higher and higher. And there, Twilight saw them.

The ceiling was a monstrous maw of bladed weaponry - swords and spears, axes and lances - each a tooth in the mouth of a kraken. It was with painstaking slowness that Twilight watched as a faint blue glue enveloped the spiral of blades, and all started to turn inwards toward the phantom.

Adria chose this moment to look up. All at once the weapons descended upon the phantom. With an impossible speed she thrust her staff high into the air and an immense wall of pressure surged from its tip. Twilight saw the air distort as the energy exploded outward, knocking away the projectiles and sending them shattering into blue shards toward every corner of the room.

Twilight let out a yelp when an axe exploded near her head. She had barely recovered when she caught sight of Princess Luna stepping through the darkness as if it were a curtain on a stage. With a powerful flap of her wings she surged toward the phantom, a dozen weapons materializing at her sides mid-flight.

Twilight could feel her heart beating in her chest. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong and she didn’t know what. She had seen Luna fight with Solaire before, but this was different. Luna threw herself against her opponent, her assault a never-ending flurry of sword swings and knife edges and axe chops and hammer blows. Gone was the grace and fluidity she had seen that day. Something had changed. Changed into something bestial and barbaric.

Her breath caught it in her throat.

Anger.

Twilight saw the wounds that covered the princess, from the tiny scratches to the large cut on her neck to the notch of flesh missing from her ear. She saw the lines of red dripping from her wounds, the speckles of blood that flew from her whirling form and onto the walls and floor. Most of all she saw the anger in Luna’s face.

The pure, unbridled fury.

“What happened,” Twilight mouthed. Her breaths came in shallow gasps.

Where is Princess Celestia?

Despite everything, the phantom Adria held her ground. The two beings stalked around each other before dashing in once more to trade blows. As far as Twilight could tell, neither could gain advantage over the other but for how long would that last? Luna’s chest heaved like bellows and her wounds kept reopening from the constant movement. It was with a grimace that Twilight noticed that the princess was leaving bloody hoofprints wherever she stepped.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Princess Celestia. Luna needs your help NOW.

As Twilight rose to her hooves, she realized what Luna’s strategy was; to keep the phantom from using her magic by staying as close to her opponent as possible. In line with this, Adria herself never seemed to press forward against Luna and looked satisfied with letting the battle come to her. They clashed again in a shower of sparks.

Luna was slowing.

And above them all the golden ball continued to glow.

Twilight inched closer.

How had they killed her before? Adria said they had beheaded her, hadn’t she? It had to have been a quick, concentrated attack. Perhaps they had immobilized her and employed a hint of subterfuge as well. When Twilight took another step, Luna looked her straight in the eye.

It was just for a split second, but she hadn’t imagined it, had she?

Luna continued to press the attack but now she seemed to be keeping her distance just a little more than before. What Twilight couldn’t know was if Luna was slowing from exhaustion or to give her an opportunity to turn things in their favor.

Her heart hammered in her chest. This wasn’t part of her lessons. She didn’t have decades upon decades of battle experience to draw upon. There were too many unknowns. Too many factors at play of which she knew too little about. Twilight took another step forward. In her state she didn’t even know if she could conjure another spell.

At Twilight’s entry, the battle slowed to a stop and Luna came to Twilight’s side. The princess held her head low and her chest moved up and down in rapid breaths. It was apparent that Luna couldn’t go for much longer. Perhaps Adria could sense it as well for the phantom glanced between them both before reaching for her staff. She leveled the gnarled piece of wood at the space between them.

It was going to come down to magic, then.

But then they all heard it. The rhythm came softly at first, and then louder and louder as the seconds dragged on. Twilight recognized the sound - the rapid footfalls of a human. The steps became more pronounced. Heavier. And then came the unmistakable rattle of chain mail.

“—ink they’re this way.” Spike’s voice.

Twilight turned towards the voice. It was only a glance, an almost imperceptible swivel of her head, but it was enough. The phantom’s staff gave off the smallest of pulses, and the only light in the room - the gold light Adria had summoned earlier - blinked from existence.

The darkness was engulfing, all-encompassing. There were bright flashes where Adria had been. Luna’s shouted out a warning she couldn’t quite hear. And Twilight threw up a barrier around herself in a complete panic.

Her eyes which had trouble adjusting to the already dim light from before were completely useless now. What dominated her vision were the five blue orbs floating in a half-arc an indeterminate distance away. They appeared almost crystalline.

Before she could think, they darted towards her in rapid succession.

Twilight screamed as the first shattered against her barrier. A crack appeared. Then the second and third. Her barrier began crumbling to pieces to the floor. The other two were fast approaching. Ahead, Twilight could just make out Adria’s form. No time to form another shield.

Move!

Move!

MOVE!

No time for coordinates or calculations.

Twilight sparked her horn and teleported. She unwittingly threw herself forward a short distance in the direction she was looking. It was all she could manage.

Twilight was too surprised to cry out when rough hands grasped her by the mane and slammed her chin to the floor.

She had teleported behind Adria. A move the phantom had seemed to anticipate.

“Not this time,” Adria whispered.

Twilight was still dazed when she was hauled off the floor by her mane and wrapped in cord-like arms. As she opened her eyes she became acutely aware of the red dagger’s edge inches from her face. An arm snaked its way around her neck and squeezed. Twilight kicked her hooves in front of her but the vice wrapped around her neck only tightened.

“Twilight!” Spike’s voice again. Much closer.

The darkness that blanketed the room began forming shadows on the floors and walls. The shadows drifted like inkblots on the floor toward Luna, her horn alight. She absorbed them through her hooves and soon the room was returned to the state it had been before. Luna took a cautious step toward them but the dagger was jabbed ever closer to Twilight’s face.

The warning was clear. Luna backed away, her expression haggard.

Solaire stood in the western passage, garbed in his full armor and sword at the ready. On his left arm was strapped a midnight blue shield with Luna’s mark emblazoned across its front. And by his feet stood Spike, eyes wide and breathing heavy as the little dragon stared in Twilight’s direction.

Adria spoke into her ear. “I don’t need to say what will happen to you if I see your horn glow, do I?”

Twilight shook her head.

Adria turned them towards the arrivals.

“So you’ve shown!” Adria began. “Enough of these creatures have died for you, Solaire! Give the Lord Soul to me and I will leave! No one else has to die.”

Twilight could see the knight’s shoulders visibly sag.

No, please.

She knew of his morals. His infinite devotion to his mission. Solaire, who had died countless deaths to see it through. She knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

Please.

“I cannot,” he whispered.

“No!” Spike screamed. And he continued to scream as he began pummeling his legs.

Twilight saw Luna, whose eyes had shut in defeat.

To whom did the princesses pray?

And Twilight saw the dagger drop from the hand in front of her face. Heard the phantom blade clatter to the floor. The open palm was all she could see.

“Then I start with this one.”

The hand pulsed red.

****

Spike sat next to her, running his hand in a dead, rhythmic motion over her coat. It kept flashing through his head - the red ghost choking Twilight, and then taking her color. She had pulled it through her mouth and eyes and dropped her to the floor. He didn’t see what happened next. Luna and Solaire must have blasted the ghost into oblivion. Frankly, he didn’t care.

He just wanted Twilight to get up. Why wouldn’t she get up?

“Twilight?” he patted her just below the neck. Gray wasn’t a good color for her. “Twilight?”

Spike glanced up at Luna. “What’s wrong with her? Princess?”

Luna sat on the floor opposite of him. He saw the haunted look in her eyes. She avoided his gaze as she looked down at Twilight’s bo-

Not body.

No.

He found Luna looking at Twilight’s flank, the gray patch of coat where her cutie mark used to be. One of his earliest memories was helping Twilight comb through books about cutie marks. He remembered her fascination with where they came from, and where they went when ponies-

died.

He stifled a sob.

How had this happened. Things were fine. Things were okay. They were going to go to the gala and then go home.

Solaire stood just behind him. He could see his shadow over them both, silent and unmoving. Spike gave Twilight one last look. She had died with her eyes closed. He didn’t need to close them. Spike looked out towards the chairs.

“You could have saved her.”

“Spike—” Luna cautioned.

“This guy let her die. He never cared about us. Not really.”

Luna looked up at the knight. Spike continued to study the chairs. He pushed the tears away. He never really noticed that these chairs had a pattern on them. Tiny yellow suns on a royal blue backdrop.

“I can save her.”

Solaire’s muffled voice.

Something caught in Spike’s chest.

“She took her soul,” he continued. “She’s empty, but it’s still her.”

The shadow moved, and Spike felt Solaire kneel by his side. His shadow no longer fell over his friend.

“I don’t know if it will work.”

The tears returned with a renewed vigor.

Don’t.

“But I can try.”

Solaire held out his hand.

There, floating above his palm, danced a tiny black sprite.

Toxic Mist

Unique pyromancy crafted by Eingyi, considered a heretic even at the Great Swamp. Create intense poison mist.

Why was Eingyi driven from the Great Swamp? One only need cast this pyromancy, a perverse diversion from the art of fire, to find out.

Chapter Nine - Five Years

First, flickers of light in the infinite dark, then shapes - odd, distorted. Screaming. Splashes of gray and white, sparks burning and dying in an instant against the pitch black. It is a part of the dark, or it is the dark, it does not know. All it knows is that things are changing.

The world comes back in pieces. Glimpses. Figments. Where there is once silence is now a deep rumbling bass, constant and thrumming. It exists within this boundless space, a shadow of a forgotten memory, awaking for the first time in a sea of eternity. It does not know how long it has been. All it does is contemplate the shapes and sounds.

The figures are changing in their abstractness. Where they once bled into black at the edges are now defined shapes. A delineation. A border.

Then a change. Indescribable. The shapes change.

A thought of color.

It remains here for a century and watches as the colors swirl. The blues and yellows, the purples and greens, they dance around each other but never mix. She is an eye encased in glass, and all around her is liquid like paint. Oil and water, never mixing.

A liquid.

Like blood.

She is drowning. The blood engulfs her. Gone is the glass and gone are the colors. There is only red and she breathes it in. Chokes.

Fear is the first thing she feels. She clings to it. Focuses on it. The fear - suffocating and all-encompassing - is better than the black. Anything is preferable to that.

She had been scared before. The fear she had felt then, it is the same fear she is feeling now. Writhing in an iron grip, death coming not from the knife held to her face, but a hand. It clamps down over her eyes and mouth and she screams.

A hot iron through the brain. Something lost. It slips from her - consciousness. It slips from her like smoke through fingers and she knows that she will die.

She kicks her hooves in the blood. She clings to the fear as it is all she knows.

But that is not true.

She stills her body. Stills her mind. She knows more than just fear. She knows of sadness. Of peace, and love. Of laughter, and happiness.

She spends no time lingering.

It returns in pieces. Faster now than before. Images in her mind. Faces. Spells. Names. They combine and coalesce. As each piece joins together with another, she knows more and more. The memories cascade back to her, her thoughts.

Her mind.

She gasps awake.

****

Twilight Sparkle stands in a dead, grey land. Nothing moves. Not the air. Not the fog. All around her the land is dry and cracked, and she knows that for an infinity in all directions nothing will change.

So she stands looking skyward. She had created eons ago a spell to still her mind. A complete, perfect, death-like stillness in which she can spend an eternity in nothing but an instant. The spell was designed to last forever.

She had lost count how many times she had cast it.

A thick layer of the gray dust had accumulated on her coat. Her mane. Her eyes. Nothing moves, yet the dust found its way onto her all the same.

The last time she had moved was eons ago, long after the times she had built palaces that stretched far beyond the horizon. Long after the times she composed symphonies and wrote massive multi-tome epics. She wrote essays in one eon explaining her actions, and then essays damning them in the next. She filled a planet’s worth of libraries with her writings, and still she wrote more. She found herself repeating stories that she had already written, scribing letters that she had already penned but never sent.

Twilight stopped writing then, when every thought she had ever had and will ever have had already been committed to words on paper.

She had cast a spell on every parchment and paper that she used that ensured that even in this grey land where nothing moved, they would not erode.

She thought she had begun to understand what it was to be immortal. Even with all the time Twilight had wandered, built and created within the grey land, the vastness of forever - the cold, uncaring march of the passage of time - the understanding of it all still eluded her.

All her spells and countermeasures were nothing in the face of a perfect eternity.

It all went away.

Her writings faded. The palaces crumbled to stone, and then dust. And Twilight, casting spell after spell to erase her consciousness from existence for billions of years at a time, wished for nothing more that she herself would turn to dust just as everything else had.

Twilight Sparkle wept.

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 9 - Five Years

Consciousness returned to her in pieces. The first lucid thought Twilight had was that her cheeks were wet. The next was that she was laying on her back in a bed with white linens. The ceiling too was white, nondescript as if it were a blank canvas awaiting paint. To her left a warm light tried to fill the room from a single candle but the light couldn’t quite reach. The shadows danced in the corners of the room.

She blinked the mistiness from her eyes and wiped at the line of tears that had streamed down her face.

Breathing was hard. She focused on each breath.

In.

Out.

In.

She paused after each breath and held.

Twilight closed her eyes. Why did she feel so sluggish?

Twilight turned toward the tiny flame that burned atop a tall candle. The candle stood on top of a nightstand next to her bed. A small smattering of books and loose papers were strewn on the table’s surface, but it was the large figure in the chair behind the nightstand that drew her gaze. Purple scales and green frills. Brawny arms joined to a wide chest, and atop a thick neck was a dragon’s face she couldn’t quite place. He peered at her with an expressionless gaze, an unknowable look in his green eyes.

A rumble sounded in the dragon’s chest as his mouth opened.

“Twilight?”

His voice was a deep bass that seemed to shake the room.

Did she know him? Twilight searched the dragon’s face, looking for something, anything, that would hint at his identity. She felt in a haze as she stared back at him. Even her mind was sluggish, her thoughts going in circles and down spirals but never arriving at an answer.

“It’s Spike,” said the dragon, and then leaned forward slightly. He remained expressionless and asked in a flat tone, “Do you remember me?”

Twilight stared at the dragon, unblinking, as the tears returned anew. They came unabated, recognition rushing back to her in painful pulses like blood into a numb limb.

Spike.

He was only a boy, and now —

“You’ve grown,” Twilight choked out. Why was she crying? Why did her chest hurt? She felt like she knew the answer but her mind swam around it in circles.

Spike gave a closed smile and stood from the chair. He was a giant among furniture for toys. He shuffled closer to the bed, his thick tail dragging on the tile. Twilight could only look as the smile fell away. His eyebrows turned upward and his large mouth opened into a pained grimace. His shoulders shook, and Twilight could see the child again. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

Twilight opened her mouth to speak but Spike moved in that moment, kneeling by her bed and holding his arm inches above her body as if she would break at the slightest touch. Twilight saw his mouth quivering and she nodded, and Spike lowered his arm onto her and pulled her into a gentle hug.

His silent sobs shook his giant frame, and all Twilight could do was remain in his embrace. Her mind raced in place, a thousand thoughts and questions raging for her attention.

“Oh…” he breathed between sobs, “Please let this be real.”

For a minute they remained there, Spike shaking as he held Twilight close. She eventually extracted her leg and rested it across the back of his neck.

“Spike.” Her voice was still weak. She knew she had to ask. “What happened?”

The dragon pulled away slightly, and Twilight’s leg fell down to her side. Her limb was completely grey.

He searched her face.

“You died, Twilight.”

****

She didn’t know how long they sat there.

Spike at one point had pulled his chair closer to the bed, but before sitting, operated a device on a cord that slowly raised half of her bed so that she sat almost upright. Spike pointed to the far side of the room where a large mirror was built into the wall over a sink and counter.

A hospital room, Twilight thought, and she became acutely aware of the scent of chemicals.

But she didn’t linger on the room long.

It was her reflection.

That grey pony who stared back at her. Emaciated body. Lifeless eyes.

The image made her sick.

Those eyes, completely black save for the thin white rings where the purple of her eyes used to be. They sat in dry sockets. Her face was sunken, and her mane - though still tri-colored - was now a black, grey, and white. Her mane hung limp and lifeless in a scraggly mess.

Dead. Is that what she was?

Spike stirred in his seat.

“What do you remember?” He began.

The dark.

Those dreams.

Twilight only stared at the dead pony in the mirror.

“It’s all so fuzzy,” she whispered. “Like a dream. Or…”

“It’s okay,” Spike said.

He sat for a moment longer before reaching for one of the papers on the nightstand and jotting down a quick message. He held it in front of his face and breathed out an almost invisible flame as if he were exhaling cigar smoke. The paper took on a green flame and turned to ash.

Spike offered a small smile at her.

“To the Princess,” he said. “She needs to know you’re awake.”

She beamed inside at the thought of seeing her teacher again. She knew she would tell her what was going on.

“Where is Princess Celestia now?”

Spike winced as if struck.

“Princess Luna,” he said. He shook his head and pinched the space between his eyes. He dropped his arm and said, “I’m sorry. It’s been so long, I sometimes forget how that night went. You weren’t there. There’s no way you could know.”

The memories eluded her, like trying to read fine print through fogged and rain-dropped glasses. She was afraid to ask. Afraid of the answer.

“How long—“

She paused, her voice becoming shaky. She steadied herself.

“How long was I asleep?”

Spike seemed to be anticipating the question. He looked to the door and straightened in his chair. He rested his hands on his thighs and only then looked at her through the sides of his eyes.

“Five years,” he said. “Almost to the day.”

The breath caught in her throat. Twilight leaned back in her bed and looked toward the ceiling.

“Where is Princess Celestia?”

“Luna will answer that.”

“Spike, please.” The tears were coming back. “Where is she?”

She angled her head slightly toward the dragon.

Spike looked to the floor. He stared at the floor, his fingers drumming a rhythm on his legs.

“She’s petrified. She’s in stone.”

Why.

Twilight could only press forward. She needed to know.

“Why?”

“It was the poison,” Spike said. “Luna was there. She said that Kirk breathed some kind of poison on her. She had no choice.”

Confusion boiled within her. Or was it anger?

“No choice? Where is she, Spike? I need answers.”

Answers for this. All of this. Five years?

“I told you already, Twilight. She can’t see you.”

“No. No.” Twilight leaned forward in the bed. “No. Spike, please tell her I’m here. Please. What is happening to me?”

Twilight watched as Spike sank further into his chair.

A minute passed.

He leaned forward, his head parallel with the floor as he rested his eyes in the palms of his hands.

It was in that silence that the door took on a blue glow and opened on quiet hinges. In stepped Princess Luna, unmistakable by her mane and color, and unmistakably taller. As tall as Princess Celestia.

The princess looked to Twilight and then Spike, who had turned his head toward the princess.

“You should have waited for me,” Luna said.

Yeah,” Spike let out, and then smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I know.”

Luna looked back toward Twilight. Her eyes were kind and a smile played at her lips.

“So!” Luna started. “Let’s begin, shall we? I am sure you have a lot of questions, Twilight Sparkle. As do I. But for now, let us start at the beginning. What is it that you do remember?”

****

And so they talked. With some light queueing the early memories started to come easy for Twilight. She remembered her parents and Shining Armor. She remembered Princess Celestia and her lessons and being sent off to Ponyville to make some friends.

When Twilight asked them about what had happened since she was asleep, Luna only deflected and asked that they stay on track.

And so Twilight continued, recounting the mundane, a specific friendship lesson, a random memory that entered her mind. As she recalled, the easier the memoeries came. Soon, she could remember entire days, entire conversations - even the most minute details - with surprising clarity.

All the while, Spike and Luna sat and listened, the former having produced a clipboard at some point and sporadically took notes with an oversized pen.

Twilight felt a twinge of happiness at this. Something had stuck after all.

Twilight recounted the changeling invasion of Canterlot, of how they expelled Queen Chrysalis with the Elements of Harmony, and then paused.

Twilight furrowed her brow.

“Twi?” Spike asked.

Luna held out a hoof.

“No, it’s…” Twilight shook her head. “It’s getting fuzzy again.”

“Try to remember,” said Luna.

“I…”

Spike looked concerned.

“I was trying to do something. In the library. The basement.”

Why was this painful? Why now?

“I was looking for something. Studying and experimenting. I was the subject. There was no one else who could do it.” She looked toward the dragon. “Just me and Spike. We were looking for the soul.”

Luna nodded. “Good. Please continue.”

Twilight didn’t miss that Spike had leaned back in his chair and exhaled.

She couldn’t shake that familiar feeling.

Why did she feel that this was a test?

****

They pressed on. They spoke of her lecture, the fire atop the tower’s balcony. They spoke of their first encounter with the interdimensional being named Solaire and of how he died and came back to life.

Twilight knew not to ask of his current whereabouts.

She knew of the Gala now. She knew that’s where it happened. The memories came back to her unbidden, the memories of how she died, but she knew she had to continue in chronological order not only for her own sake but for the sake of the test. If she dwelled, she knew she would break down.

And so she faced them as if they were proctors for a verbal exam and continued.

She spoke of the duel between Luna and Solaire, and the promise made between Princess Celestia and Solaire.

“I made a ring,” Twilight said. “A ring that would let Solaire return to Equestria after he left to continue his mission.”

Was he still even here?

She was watching them now for some kind of clue into what they were wanting from her. They tried to not give anything away but she knew Spike. He may have been older but he was still the same dragon that she had raised. She knew his tells, and they were telling her that she was close.

Twilight closed in.

“I had created the ring to only respond to my magic, and a very specific magic at that. An encryption that only I can unlock. And of course one other pony—“

“Celestia,” Luna said. The only time she had offered information in the hours they had talked.

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Princess Celestia.”

Twilight swallowed.

“She told me that she would tell you how to operate the ring in time, but I’m guessing she never did. You could never get the ring to work.”

“True,” Luna said. “The ring, as you said, only responded to your magic frequency. And since you were otherwise indisposed, we had to search for another way to activate it.”

“But the encryption. Even if you could perfectly match my frequency, the ring would still be locked to you without the key for the encryption.”

The pair sat in silence.

“We need the ring, right? Skip the Gala. I was… and Celestia is petrified.” Twilight focused on Luna with all the intensity she could muster.

“Five years. By the sun and stars, you wouldn’t have waited all this time if there was no other way.” She gestured to her body, her grey coat and black eyes.

“Whatever happened to me can wait. You need the ring for something.” She leaned forward, looking at Luna. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have brought it here.”

Both Spike and Luna shared a look. Luna then sparked her horn and from thin air appeared the silver ring. Twilight had sensed faint traces of her magic when Luna entered the room but now with the ring in plain view, her frequency was apparent.

Luna floated the ring over to Twilight but when she tried to reach out with her own magic, nothing happened. It was as if she were grabbing air.

A pang of panic shot through Twilight.

No, it was as if she had no magic at all.

Luna looked at her with a calm expression and stood. Luna’s horn then took on a magenta glow, and Twilight could only balk as an almost imperceptible change occurred within the ring.

It sensed her magic. Or rather, the exact frequency of her magic.

“How…”

Her magic was her own, unique completely to herself. To imitate it so perfectly as to fool the spell on the ring would take years of intense tuning and calibrations by a team of dedicated experts. Really, the field was so niche and abstract that the only unicorns skilled enough to do so worked outside the law, beyond the purview of the Princesses.

Luna disappeared the ring and let out a small breath, a distant look crossing her face. “There is a lot that we need to tell you, Twilight Sparkle. The lengths we have gone to to do even this should speak to our desperation.”

Spike rose from his chair, the furniture creaking as he did so, and took a hesitant step toward the bed.

He held out a hand. “Please, Twilight. It’s best if you see for yourself.”

****

On shaky legs Twilight exited the room. Luna led and Spike took the rear, the dragon walking a little too close as if afraid Twilight would fall. She only became more confused as the next room they entered was a massive circular chamber. The white hospital tiles and the sterile white of the plaster walls gave way to old stonework with an odd bluish hue. There was no ceiling she could see - only an impenetrable darkness that seemed to eat the stone walls the higher they rose. She made only a passing notice of this as stranger still was the object situated in the center of the chamber - a massive freestanding mirror with an ornate silver frame. It was square in shape and multiple times her size.

With no explanation and without looking back, Luna made her way across the chamber, stepped through the mirror and disappeared from sight.

Spike stood at Twilight’s side. “She had to make a new one because I was getting too big.”

“What is it?”

Spike paused.

I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Some kind of portal? She used to have one in her tower because she doesn’t like stairs, but now she has a whole network of them all over Equestria.”

Huh.

“And where exactly are we right now?” Twilight asked. Now that she thought about it, neither the hospital room or this chamber had any windows.

“We’re in some kind of pocket dimension,” Spike said. “She created this space to seal you from the rest of the world.”

Her brows furrowed, Twilight turned and looked up at the dragon. The questions kept piling up.

“C’mon,” said Spike and gestured to the mirror. “This will take us back to the top of Luna’s tower.”

Twilight had no choice but to comply. Together they approached the mirror, and gingerly, she raised a hoof to its surface and was not too surprised when it met no resistance. Closing her eyes, she pushed her head through and then the rest of her body.

They emerged into what could only be Luna’s private quarters - another circular room dominated by scroll-laden shelves and pushed to the side a large crescent-shaped desk littered with a bric-a-brac of items and artifacts. A plush cushion the size of Twilight’s bed sat on the opposite side of the room. A small artisan table was close by, a smattering of cups and papers on its surface. The floor itself was a beautiful stained wood of intersecting crescents. On the ceiling was an artful rendition of the night sky.

But what drew Twilight’s eye was the round table in the center of the room. It appeared of carved granite, roughly hewn, and large enough that it would take several paces to walk its circumference. Projecting from a blue crystal in its center was a full color spherical projection of Equus, accurate to the point that it appeared to be the planet in miniature floating in the center of Luna’s office. For some reason something felt off.

Luna stood by the table’s side in front of the unmistakable continent that Equestria resided on. She watched Twilight with expectant eyes.

“There’s another one in the Council Chambers,” said Spike. “They mirror each other. If something changes on one it will change on the other.”

Twilight gave a wordless affirmation and continued her approach. As she drew closer she noticed little shapes in various colors dotting its surface. The depiction even simulated night and day. A minimalist rendering of the sun and moon floated a foot above the planet’s surface and cast accurate shadows across the model.

Twilight noted that the sun was positioned directly above Canterlot.

Old memories crept to the forefront of her mind.

Old memorizations, so rote and ingrained that she recognized it immediately.

Something was terribly wrong here.

The sun’s path never crossed over the center of Canterlot.

For a whole minute she watched the sun, even stepping so close that she could have touched it with a hoof.

“Is this real time?” Twilight voiced suddenly.

“Yes.” Luna’s voice.

“It’s not moving,” Twilight said as she faced the princess. She jabbed a hoof at the tiny sun. “A model this size, it should be moving.”

Neither Luna or Spike said a thing.

Twilight looked at them both, a ringing in her ears. The implication of this. She couldn’t bear to think of it.

She needed to see it.

As if knowing what she was thinking, Luna stepped back and angled her head to the pair of double doors that led out to the balcony. A pale yellowish-green light streamed in through the glass.

Twilight couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. She stepped toward the doors and pushed them open with a shaking hoof. With painstaking slowness, Twilight stepped out into the dim light that emitted from that diminished sun.

“Oh, Celestia…” Twilight whispered. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Luna joined her on the balcony and started in a somber tone.

“For five years the sun has remained above Canterlot. It grows weaker with every passing day.”

“We can’t move it,” Twilight said. She found herself sitting on the tile. From weakness or shock, she did not know.

“I wish we had good news for you, Twilight Sparkle.”

She didn’t hear her. All Twilight could do was stare at the dying sun.

“Oh, Celestia. We can’t move it.”

****

Twilight Sparkle looked down at Princess Celestia’s petrified form.

The stone statue that was Celestia lay on its side, her body stone-frozen in all the pain that she must have felt in her last moments of consciousness. Her legs were splayed out in front of her. Her topmost foreleg appeared as if she were reaching skyward while the one touching the ground was curled beneath her piteously and weak. Her head and neck were raised off the ground and angled toward her back, eyes staring but unseeing at someone who stood over her five years ago. Most striking of all was Celestia’s face — twisted into a permanent grimace, mouth agape and eyes wide and pleading.

Princess Celestia had spent her last moments in agony.

There in the throne room, Twilight stood just out of hoof’s reach.

Gone were the twin thrones of the princesses. Only Celestia - twisted and grey and lifeless - remained in their place.

Twilight dared not touch her, dared not make this real. To feel the cold stone would wake her from the nightmare.

This was better as a dream.

There, among the countless flowers and written prayers that were left for the Princess of the Sun, Twilight wished that she hadn’t woken up.

Through the stained glass behind Celestia’s prostrate form Twilight could see the sickly green glow of the sun outside.

She dared not think of the implications of an unmoving sun.

The devastating ecological damage. Entire cities, nations, continents, left without heat and light. The damage to crops. Food shortages. Mass upheaval of entire populations. The bitter cold on the far side of the planet.

She thought back to the model of Equus back in Luna’s tower, of how the colored shapes on its surface formed and joined into what looked much like battle lines.

Wars have been fought over much less.

How many have already died?

How many will continue to die?

She thought of her friends - of Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. Rainbow Dash and Rarity. Her parents and Shining Armor.

Applejack.

Twilight Sparkle did not know if her friends or family were still alive. How had she not considered them until this moment? She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and curl into a ball and scream.

But she only stared at Celestia — her teacher and mentor and hero — and then arrived at the same conclusion she had reached on the day she herself was killed a half decade ago.

“This is all my fault.” Twilight’s voice came out watery and choked. “Oh, Celestia, this is all my fault.”

The silence in the throne room was deafening. Spike and Luna had not spoken much when they walked from Luna’s tower to the palace proper, but she remembered Spike saying that they had the palace emptied the moment she had awoken.

Twilight looked down at her grey form, her sinewy legs. She could just make out her reflection in the polished tile on the floor.

A hideous creature with black pits for eyes stared back at her. She could understand why they didn’t want anyone to see her. She spared a passing glance at her companions.

Luna and Spike stood a respectable distance behind and Twilight somehow got the impression from their stance and familiarity that they themselves had spent a lot of time here. Cried all the tears that needed to be cried.

Twilight felt another twinge in her chest. She thought of all the time she had lost, of everything she had missed. Would things have turned out differently if she hadn’t failed the night of the gala? Where would they be if she hadn’t studied the soul at all?

She couldn't avoid it any longer. She had touched upon it like a foal learning to swim in cold waters, but had never fully considered it. It had lingered in the back of her mind all this time, rotting. Festering. It was simply too much to think about. The full weight of that singular truth slammed into her like a runaway train.

She had died.

The analytical part of her brain was able to parse it and shelve it away for future consideration, an anomaly to be worked through later. But there in the throne room as she stared down at Princess Celestia, the truth she had been avoiding cut through all the rest of her thoughts and coiled itself like a rod of molten iron into her brain.

She had died and was now walking around the palace as a…

A what?

A corpse?

The truth was evident enough on her flank. Gone was her purple starburst cutie mark. In its place was a single white ring. It looked wrong on her.

If one’s cutie mark was a visual manifestation of one’s soul, what did it mean to have lost the original and gained another? Was the truth as simple as that?

“None of this is your fault,” said Luna, “ but I understand why you would think so. It does not take a large amount of thought to arrive at that conclusion, Twilight. Many ponies did and still blame you.”

Twilight turned then to face them fully.

“Mine and my sister’s,” Luna continued, “our mistakes from one-thousand years ago have followed us here. I think of my own delves into magic that utilized the soul. I think of the ponies who followed me. Of Sombra, who would go on to commit atrocities using knowledge and skills that I had taught him.”

Luna pressed on. “Does the fault lie with me then, Twilight Sparkle? If I had just seen what Sombra would become, would Celestia still have forced me to stop studying soul magic? Or is it Celestia’s for feeling she had to stop me in the first place? Or is it mine for losing control and becoming Nightmare Moon? Or is it hers for sealing me away and destroying all evidence of my work, only for you to rediscover it a millennium later? I can go on forever like this, Twilight. Shifting blame, pointing hooves. The fact is, your actions were merely the last in a long chain of mistakes and errors that started long before you were born.”

Luna stepped forward, her tone growing soft. “The only thing we can do is to try to fix this and move on. That starts with helping my sister.”

Twilight looked from Luna to Spike, and then back to Luna. She willed some firmness back into her voice.

“What happened to me?”

Luna wasted no time in responding. “We believe that Adria took your soul. This had, for all intents and purposes, killed you.”

“But I’m here.”

“Solaire arrived just moments before. We dispatched her, and in our haste and grief, Solaire said that he could save you. We did not know what that meant. We still do not. After five years, we still do not.”

Twilight shut her eyes. “What did he do?”

“He produced something in his hand. A black shard of an indescribable energy. He took it and forced it into your chest.”

Twilight recalled the time Solaire had shown her something similar atop Celestia’s tower at the fire she had created. It was just the two of them, and Solaire produced a black mass, balled it in his hand and stuck his fist in the flame. He called it a disease.

“The curse,” Twilight whispered.

“We did not know what he was going to do,” Luna said.

“But you’re back,” Spike said. “It took all this time but you’re back!”

“Truthfully, Twilight. We were not counting on you returning to us. We watched you for many years in complete secret - less than a dozen ponies know. It wasn’t until the last six months when we noticed any sort of change in you.”

Twilight thought of those dreams, of being nothingness in the dark and of the eternity she had spent in the grey land. They remained with her, a brand in her mind.

“I dreamt of things,” said Twilight. “Of being born in a dark place, and of… some purgatory. A literal Tartarus.”

“The machines detected your brain waves first,” said Spike. “Luna tried to enter your dreams but—“

Twilight shook her head.

“I don’t think they were just dreams. More like…”

Memories.

“…I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

Why bother them with this when the world was collapsing outside? She pushed the thoughts away.

Luna herself had said they were not expecting her to return so there had to be a reason she was spending so much time with her now.

Enough dancing around the subject.

“Please. Just tell me what it is you want from me.”

Luna nodded slowly.

“Twilight. I will not hide things from you or try to lessen the blow — the end of the world is upon us. We have exhausted all options to gain control of the sun. And even if we were able, that does not change the fact that the sun is dying.”

“How much time is left?”

“By our estimates, less than a year. The sun is tied to her life, Twilight. Even petrified, the poison is killing her. She will perish in that stone and the sun will die with her.”

“The world will become a frozen wasteland,” Spike said. “Ponies are already talking of moving underground, living as the diamond dogs do, but how long can we last really? The dark side of the planet has already gone cold. It’s a taste of what will come.”

“So we help Princess Celestia,” Twilight said. “We develop an antidote for the poison and pull her from the stone.”

Luna shook her head. “We have tried, Twilight. In the first month the world came together to try and help her. Scientists from all nations pooled their collective knowledge here in Canterlot and came up with nothing.”

“Then talks collapsed,” Spike said. “We could not convince the other side of the world that Equestria’s best unicorns— Luna herself— could not take control of the sun. They were convinced we were keeping the sun for ourselves, and how could we blame them? Their people were the first to starve. The wars started, and—“

“Let us not talk of that,” Luna said. “The cure cannot be found on Equus as the poison did not originate from Equus.”

The pieces began to fall in place for Twilight.

“You need the ring because you plan to go there. To Solaire’s world.”

There was a long silence between them.

“He says there is a plant there that can cure her,” Luna said. “A very rare plant that grows only in close proximity to the poison’s source. He says he can retrieve it for us but when both you and Celestia fell that night, the fire atop her tower grew dim. He somehow travels through the flame. The chances of him returning without the fire or your ring are slim to none.”

“Solaire begged us to let him go but we couldn’t. The risk was too great to let him go on his own with no guarantee that he would be able to return.”

“So this is it then,” Twilight said. “I take the encryption off the ring and Solaire brings us the antidote for Princess Celestia?”

“Yes,” said Luna. “This is one plan of dozens, but the one most likely to succeed.”

“Princess Luna, you should know about my magic. I haven’t been able to use it since I woke up. The encryption…”

“Worry not, Twilight Sparkle. You need only guide me through the procedure. I will carry out the rest. And as for your magic and what has happened to you, we are beyond uncharted waters. I will assist you in whatever capacity I can but there is so much we do not know.”

Twilight considered her words for a moment. The normal pathway for her magic had been disrupted, or rather, completely removed from her. In its place was something else entirely different, some foreign entity that had taken root in the place where her soul had once resided.

She was reminded of her youth when she struggled to cast even the most basic of spells. The circumstances now were different and the stakes much more dire, but at its core this was a problem that was in need of an answer, a puzzle begging to be solved.

Twilight felt as if she had awoken in the midst of a raging storm at sea with only some driftwood to cling to and no land in sight. If only she could get her magic back then perhaps things would make sense again.

She would at least have a compass.

A memory of Princess Celestia sprang forth in her mind.

A lifetime ago Princess Celestia had said over some tea, “there isn’t a problem in this world that cannot be solved with the help of some friends.” She smiled. “And a little bit of magic.”

As Twilight looked from Spike to Luna, and then to the petrified form of her teacher, the words only reminded her of everything she missed, and what was now missing from her.

She had no idea of the whereabouts of her friends. Her magic was gone. Her greatest supporter and confidante was slowly dying in stone, and she herself was brought back from death by an interdimensional curse.

“There isn’t a problem in this world…” Twilight whispered, then shut her eyes.

What would Celestia say now, she thought, when the problems didn’t come from Equestria, or even Equus, but another world entirely?

A place so far beyond their comprehension that the slightest brush with it has left theirs on the brink of total collapse.

Celestia’s cure lay in that place. Equestria’s salvation can only be found in that place.

For the first time since she awoke, Twilight felt a spark of anger in her chest.

My soul is in that place, she thought.

Twilight needed her magic back. Just as Adria used magic to rip Twilight’s soul from her, she would use magic to take it back. Rip it from her cold, dead hands if she had to.

She would pummel her into oblivion. Smash the air from her lungs for what she did to her. For what she did to Celestia.

“Twilight?”

Spike’s voice, tinny and distant.

She would crush her broken and bloody into the dirt and take back what was rightfully hers.

She needed her magic back.

She needed her magic back to kill the one who had killed her.

“Adria.” The name dripped from her lips like venom.

Twilight Sparkle was going to kill her.

****

The disguise spell felt odd on Twilight, like loose fitting clothes that belonged to a stranger. Twilight Sparkle was a pale green unicorn in a plain white coat. A small emblem of a half-crescent moon was pinned to the coat’s lapel. At her side was Luna and Spike, neither in disguises.

They did not need any however as most ponies they encountered on the streets of Canterlot either stepped away or dropped into a deep bow. Only a few offered any kind of verbal acknowledgement to which Spike was quick to answer with a smile and a hoof shake. Luna only stared straight ahead, not giving any indication that she saw the ponies who took great pains to not stand out.

Canterlot had always been a crowded city but there had always been a sense of order that came with it. Despite the uppity nature of Canterlot’s upper-crust, they always behaved in a manner that did not disrespect their station. Whether wealthy or working class, everyone who walked Canterlot’s streets could feel as if they belonged.

Now, as Twilight walked by Luna and Spike’s side, she saw what she could only perceive was a small microcosm of the pain beyond the city walls. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, seeing the ragged, bedraggled ponies lining the city streets. Some sat pressed up against the buildings like the empty bottles and assortment of trash around them. Others roamed in place, all with hunger and anxiety in their eyes. All with no place to go.

They passed an earth pony laying too still on the pavement.

A mare sitting on flattened cardboard watched as they passed. A young foal lay asleep at hooves. Spike dropped them a few coins.

A building which used to be a sandwich shop had a line of ponies that started in the alley and extended down the street. A sign that used to be an old piece of plasterboard read, ‘Kitchen open til’ 12:00 PM. Bring own containers!’

They passed a pair of guards adorned in Canterlot’s gold. Their armor was battered and worn, the polish weathered to nothing. One of them wore a bloody bandage over an eye. They saluted Luna and bowed.

All stayed out of their way. And everywhere, the scent of unwashed bodies. Accumulating filth.

Twilight wrinkled her nose. Averted her gaze. She couldn’t bear to look at them, to see the consequences of her actions. Of her failure.

Above them all, Celestia’s dying sun remained a never-ending, never-setting reminder that things will only get worse. Each day it grew a little dimmer. A little colder. Every day more refugees arrived at the city’s gates. Entire families fleeing their homes with all they could carry on their backs searching for sanctuary and succor, only to find more of the same.

Starvation staved off by vegetable water and soup kitchen bread. The cold not by a warm hearth and a roof overhead, but by the ragged blanket brought from home, the body heat of the pony next to them on the pavement.

Down an alley on the once white brick, something caught Twilight’s eye. Her own face as she once was, larger than life and beautifully painted in a resplendent purple stared back at her with a cold, uncaring gaze. The mouth was slightly downturned into a frown, the eyebrows pinched at the center. In bold white script above was written,

‘I DID THIS TO YOU’

Spike stopped by Twilight’s side.

“That showed up one night maybe two years ago. Whoever did that used some kind of enchanted paint.”

“Smart.”

“Won’t come off without taking down the whole wall. I petitioned the Council, and well…” he waved a dismissive hand down the alley.

Twilight chuckled. “I don’t know how Shining ever dealt with the bureaucracy.”

Spike’s smile fell away. “Yeah. Let’s keep going.”

****

It was only when they got to their street did Twilight realize they were going to her parents’ house. Luna instructed Spike to write to her once they had finished here and flew away. Twilight and Spike watched her go.

The two of them stood out in the street.

“Well, I guess we should go in,” said Spike.

“Wait. Just wait.” Twilight sighed. “Why are we here?”

“Because they’re your parents, Twilight. They need to know you’re alive.”

“I’m… I don’t like this. I either come back as they remember me or not at all.”

Spike looked down at her with that expressionless gaze of his. Why did she feel like she was getting scolded?

“I’ve never stopped visiting them, Twi. You know that they love you, right? They always have.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said. “Yes, of course.”

“Then can’t you do this for them? They deserve to see you.”

“I… yeah. You’re right.”

Spike smiled then knocked on the door.

****

An earth pony colt answered the door. Blue eyes peek out from beneath his tousled brown mane. He looked to Spike first then at the green unicorn that was Twilight Sparkle.

Spike gave a casual wave of his hand. “Hey there, Marble! Your parents home?”

The colt named Marble looked between the two of them. “Mom’s at work,” he said.

“Oh cool. Cool. Can I come in? Just visiting Twilight Velvet and Night Light. You know.”

Marble fixed his gaze on Twilight.

Twilight offered a smile. “I’m an old family friend. Uh, Twilight Sprinkle.”

For a moment, Marble only stared at them. Some seconds passed and he let the door swing open.

“She’s in the kitchen.”

****

They found Twilight Velvet sitting at the kitchen counter nursing a cold cup of tea. The mare spared a passing glance at Spike before settling her gaze on the green unicorn entering her kitchen.

“Uh, hey,” said Twilight.

“Hey Velvet. This is Twilight ‘Sprinkle’,” said Spike.

Velvet opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it. The mare appeared haggard, her eyes wrinkling at the corners as she inspected the stranger closer. Without removing her gaze she stepped down from the stool and approached the pair.

“I…” Velvet swallowed. “I think I know you.”

Twilight smiled in her disguise. “It’s me, mom.”

Twilight found herself pulled into a swift, sobbing hug.

****

Night Light arrived shortly after in a pop of displaced air. They had moved the reunion to the living room where they continued to talk for another thirty minutes. There was not a moment where at least one if not both of her parents were sniffling and dabbing tissues at their eyes with magic.

Her parents sat on the couch with a coffee table in front of them. Twilight sat opposite of them on the recliner, holding a cup of coffee in her hooves.

It felt strange not to have her magic.

“Let me tell you, dear,” Night Light continued, “I can’t believe how good it is to have you back. We must celebrate when Shining gets back. Maybe I’ll dust off the old grill. Do up some Parmesan eggplants like we used to do.”

“Yeah, dad.”

Velvet waved a hoof at the dragon sitting in the corner.

“And Spike, you’re coming too, of course. The Council can afford to let you off for one evening, can’t they?”

“Those bunch of dullards can’t do too much damage in your absence, eh, big guy?”

“Eh heh. Right.”

“When is Shining coming back anyway, dear? Perhaps you have heard something in those meetings of yours.”

“We don’t know,” Spike said to Velvet. “There are no hard time frames on his missions. He has complete say on how long his team is to remain out in the field. All his discretion. Could be tomorrow, could be a month from now.”

“Ah…”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Spike. “He keeps busy. And his men… they look after him. He actually sent word a couple of days ago. It’s too early to say but he thinks he’s on to something.”

A thought came to Twilight.

“How is Cadance doing?”

The air was sucked out of the room. The smiles fell away from her parents’ faces. Spike froze. The dragon let out a rumbling cough into the top of his fist.

Night Light grimaced. “Dear Cadance has, ah… well.”

Spike only sat, his eyes wide and staring at the carpet.

“Twilight.” Velvet offered a fragile smile. “Your sister-in-law disappeared almost three years ago.”

****

Ten thousand feet above the surface of Equestria, two dozen pegasi in blue cold-repellent suits sat among the clouds in wait. High altitude masks sat upon their muzzles—the air was thinner here. Light-absorbing goggles rested on four dozen sets of eyes—pegasus eyes, as sharp as they were, still needed some light to see. Their enemies had the edge on them in that regard.

Griffons were born to fly by night.

Of the two dozen, half of the pegasi were equipped with long spears that were able to be retracted and expanded with a twitch of a hoof. Lancers they were called, and they specialized in delivering precise, lethal blows from up above. Diving with all the speed they could muster, the lancers aimed for center mass and drove their spears into their enemies at near supersonic speeds.

Though only half had spears, all the pegasi were equipped with foldable blades that attached to each wing. Ancient pegasus weapons from the old times, the wingblades were the first and final answer to combatting griffons in the air.

Griffons were ferocious in drawn-out aerial scraps. Their front talons would grasp and sink into flesh. Their rear claws would rake through coats and slip through armor. Disembowel. Then the beak would gouge out eyes and tear at the vital blood vessels in the neck. Every part of the griffon was designed to service the species as an apex predator.

A hunter of pegasi.

Centuries of warfare taught the pegasi how to fight back. Technology was developed and tactics were honed in the crucible of battle and war. Though Celestia’s reign brought peace between the two species, the pegasi never forgot what it meant to have to fight for their place in the sky.

Despite the near pitch-black conditions, the rainbow mane and tail that peaked out from one of the masked flight suits was unmistakable. She sat at the head of the formation with only three other pegasi on her cloud, her most trusted lieutenants.

A muffled voice sounded just to her left. “Captain, a signal from the forward scouts.”

Rainbow Dash gave an almost imperceptible turn of her head.

Cumulus had punched a hole through the thin layer of cloud and was peering through the bottom with high-powered binoculars equipped with a thermal-tracking lens.

“It’s them,” Cumulus continued. “Confirmed by the scouts. The ones we’re looking for.”

“How many?” Her voice came out gruff. The first words she had spoken in hours.

Cumulus paused. “All of them. Headed our way. Gentle flight.”

Rainbow took a deep breath. Despite everything she could never shake this feeling, the racing in her gut that always came before a battle. She rose and turned to face the twenty-three pegasi behind her. They all stood in unison.

Wordlessly, she signed to them with a wing.

Dive.

Sixty seconds.

Fourteen targets.

She tapped a hoof on the cloud.

Lancers lead.

She angled her wings forward then clapped them out with force out to her sides.

Engage.

No survivors.

The pegasi under her command repeated her signs in perfect unison, and she nodded in satisfaction. Rainbow turned forward once more and slammed a hoof down on her spear’s haft that was nestled in the cloud. The spear popped into the air and Rainbow caught it in her hoof with a practiced ease.

Another breath.

“Thirty seconds,” voiced Cumulus.

Rainbow stepped toward the edge of her cloud and looked down into the pitch black.

They had been tracking these griffons for two days. Twice her team had to stop and pick through the bones of the refugees they had eaten. The first a family of five from Appleloosa. The next was a relief caravan from Canterlot to Dodge Junction.

None of the food was eaten.

Just the ponies. Seven lives lost.

Rainbow Dash snarled through her mask.

The griffons had gone mad with the times. Or perhaps mad with hunger. Rainbow didn’t care. The next time a griffon got hungry it would be the bones of one of her friends.

“Ten,” said Cumulus.

A pair of bloody wings plucked and picked clean. A rock nearby, discarded bones smashed and marrow clawed away.

Another breath. She tried to will the images away.

A slender pink horn torn away from the skull.

Rainbow Dash dove.

****

The griffins lay like scattered toys atop the snow. The deep crimson leaking from their bodies steamed as it touched the air. Rainbow stood amongst the corpses, her breaths coming slow.

The skirmish had lasted less than a minute.

She walked close to one of the slain griffins and saw the tattered uniform of the Griffish Aerial Forces. Perhaps four of the others wore the same. The rest wore nothing.

“Deserters and scavengers,” said Cumulus who landed nearby.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. She flicked the goggles off her head and turned her eyes on Cumulus. She could just hear the cries over the raging blizzard.

“Cloud Flare?”

“She’ll fly again. Missed her lance. Dumb luck for the griffin — saw her coming. She went in with the wingblades but he had gotten his talons on her.”

Rainbow clicked her tongue.

“Already got the rear guard putting a cloud together for her,” Cumulus said. “They’ll get her back to Cloudsdale.”

“No one else, right?”

Cumulus shook his head.

“Good.”

The rest of her troop were already picking through the dead, searching for any supplies or communications that Command would be interested in. Rainbow was about to signal them to take to the sky when a rolled up scroll appeared from a green flame in front of her. It landed without a sound in the snow.

Rainbow Dash eyed the scroll. She hadn’t received a message from Spike or Luna in nearly a month.

She took it in her teeth and unrolled it with her hooves.

“Captain?” Cumulus had stepped to her side, eying the scroll with Luna’s seal.

Rainbow Dash swallowed away the lump in her throat. “Cumulus, get the Wonderbolts back to Cloudsdale. You’ll be taking over as interim captain until Command can appoint someone else.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You mean until you come back. Where will you be going?”

The battle didn’t increase her heart rate but now it hammered in her chest.

Rainbow shook the snow from her wings and knocked the goggles back over her eyes.

“To see an old friend.”

****

Despite the crowd, the atmosphere in the bar was quiet and subdued. Before the stasis, the building would have had a certain rustic charm with its all wood interior, swinging saloon doors, and the long, polished bar as the room’s centerpiece complete with multiple taps and hard liquors on the shelves behind it.

Once upon a time somepony had taken great pride in this building. It was probably once a jewel in the crown of this town, its owner known to everyone and a friend to all the locals. Dodge Junction was an earth pony city after all.

Now, as with everything else, the building had only become a reflection of the times.

The only lights came from the oil lanterns that burned on each table and cast odd shadows on the ceiling and walls. Dust and detritus had collected in the corners and underneath furniture. The floor was sticky with spilt beverages and slick from entering hooves wet with melted snow and mud. Mismatched tarps were haphazardly nailed over the doorway and each window. The glass had long since been broken and evidence of boards being put up, torn down, and put up again was apparent on the frames.

The tarps did little to keep the cold and snow out.

Seated at the far end of the bar tucked away in the corner of the room was a white pony with a nondescript grey wool cloak wrapped close around her body. The hood was pulled over her head and concealed her face. A protrusion that could only be a horn made a point in the hood’s fabric.

She sat with her back to the wall and kept her head down. A dirty mug sat on the bar’s surface in front of her. To anypony who looked her way, she was just another weary traveler with not enough cares to talk but too many horror stories to tell.

The room was loud with the sounds of bodies shuffling in seats and private arguments, each table an island and isolated from the troubles of the others. Yet all were running from the same thing.

The biting cold howled outside.

Dodge Junction was just another step in the long road to Canterlot, where the sun still shone and the air was warm.

The two unicorns who had been seated to her right, a mare and a stallion — likely partners by how they talked — made a silent acknowledgement to each other that it was time to go. They took up their sacks and headed for the door. No one bade them farewell or safe travels. The stallion pushed open the flap and they disappeared into the cold dark beyond, ghosts once more.

The two earth ponies who had been standing by the stairway close by started for the stools and slumped down in the seats. One of the stallions rapped on the bar and signaled to the bartender.

The hooded unicorn wrinkled her nose.

“Two of whatever’s on tap,” said the ash-colored stallion.

The Manehattan accent was unmistakable.

“Thought they’d never leave,” said the tan one. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to the unicorn. “Sheesh. This place is a damn dump. We shoulda went to that joint down the street.”

“Nah.” The ash stallion leaned forward in his chair and brought his voice low. “I like the crowd here.”

Even two chairs down she felt his eyes on her—his leering gaze and lecherous tone.

The bartender approached and slid two mugs across the surface of the bar.

“Six bits,” said the stubbled stallion. Yellow stains dotted his apron.

“Yeah, yeah,” said the ash stallion. He bumped his friend with an elbow. “Swifty, you got the coins for the guy?”

Swifty took the mug and took a long draw. He set the mug back down with a clatter.

“Ehhhh, I think they’re out in the cart,” said Swifty. Foam lined his top lip. “Have a heart, pal. We only just got warm.”

The bartender shook his head. “I don’t forget faces. I don’t get my bits, you won’t set a hoof in this town ever again.”

The ash stallion chuckled and said under his breath, “As if we’d ever come back to this rear-end. Maybe for you, though. What’s your name, sugar?”

She felt both of the stallions’ eyes on her now.

“Y’know, me and my pal have come a long way. Looks like you’ve been, too. Pretty mare such as yourself. Hmph, shame to be travelin’ alone.”

“Dangerous, too,” said Swifty. “Y’know, me and ol’ Coalbreaker here, used to run with the Apples. Before the whole northern border went sideways anyways! Hah!”

This piqued her interest.

“The Apples, huh?” She turned her head to the right just enough for her left eye to peak out from beneath the hood.

“Oh yeah,” continued Swifty. “Just after the big guy left but before the little sister joined on. That Applejack though. She coulda smoked the whole griffin army if she just stayed on. Damn shame.”

“Mares,” muttered Coal. “Anyways, we’re headed to Canterlot. Seems everybody’s bought into the great exodus. I imagine you too.”

“Gonna see what there is to see,” said Swifty. “Only seen it once back when Celestia was still around. Ways I hear it, her sister’s run the place into the ground. Maybe she shoulda stayed up in the moon huh?”

“Figs, don’t remind me,” said Coal. “If it weren’t for that damn Twilight Sparkle she’d still be here. Place used to run like clockwork, not a care in the world.”

Coal took a long swig of his drink, his eyes darkening.

“She just had to go and kill us all,” he said, and stared down into his beer. “So whad’ya say, sugar? The world isn’t coming to an end. Y’know why?”

He didn’t wait for her to respond.

“Cause it’s already over. There ain’t no sun. No food. The cold that feels like you’ll never get warm again.”

“And the white ring on us all,” said Swifty. “They say she’s cursed us. It eats your cutie mark until all that’s left is the ring.”

“All hearsay,” said the unicorn.

“We seen it ourselves,” said Swifty.

“Hey.” Coal shot him a look and shook his head.

Swifty shrugged. “What’s the harm, Coal? It already happened. Besides…”

Coal glanced at the unicorn and sighed. “Out in the woods out by Baltimare. We was out there tryin’ to keep warm in a blizzard. Had a fire goin’, tents up. Was about ten of us out in those woods.”

“Thought we heard a mare cryin’. Like she was hurt. A… a shriek. We wasn’t sure, but the wind stopped for a second then we heard it clear as day.”

The unicorn turned fully to face them. The stallions only nursed their drinks.

“Then we saw the red eyes,” said Coal. “We was all lookin’ at it then, gettin’ closer. It shrieking all the way.”

“Never seen anything like it.”

“A pony. No… a damn corpse. Stepped into the light.”

“All grey and red eyes. ‘Cept for the white ring.” Swifty brought the mug to his lips.

“We bolted. Our group split apart—couldn’t decide what it is we seen. Or where to go. Never looked back since.”

The unicorn sat in silence. This was the fourth report she had heard in a month, and all so similar to one another. Was it a coincidence that they have only now started hearing them after brain waves were first detected in Twilight Sparkle six months ago?

It was at that moment that she felt the scroll case rumbling in her satchel. She sparked her horn and pulled the scroll case out. The case was faux-leather well-worn with use and enchanted to respond only to her magic. The cap bore the symbol of a moon. The lid popped off with ease and she pulled out the parchment inside and unrolled it with care.

The words appeared before her eyes as if the ink was bleeding through from the other side. When the words stopped she took out her own quill and penned her response. She didn’t wait for the ink to fade. She stashed the scroll back in its case and replaced it back into her satchel.

It seemed her business here would have to be placed on indefinite hold.

She stepped off the stool, reached up a hoof and pulled the hood off her head. Her lavender mane spilled out in curls. She straightened her cloak with her magic and made sure the two stallions could see Luna’s emblem pinned at her neck.

“Gentlecolts, I really do appreciate you for taking the time and sharing with me.”

They looked from her face to the emblem and then back to her face.

“Y-you’re—“

“Hm! As it so happens, I also know of the Apples. Applejack in particular I am especially close to. Some might call me a family friend.” Rarity smiled. “Perhaps I should inquire about you two when I next see her?”

“Uh—“

“Er—“

“N-no need, Ma’am!”

“And about our dear Princess Luna.”

“Just—“

“She is very open to constructive criticism. Even in the extremely taxing and incredibly thankless role she has been thrust into as the last bastion against the encroaching darkness, she still makes time to hear the concerns of her ponies. Would you like me to call a sky chariot for us so that she may hear your concerns in person?”

“I, uh—“

“And I am sure she would be very pleased at how one of her agents and foremost representative on the Council of Equestria was treated by such fine, upstanding gentlecolts such as yourselves. I will be sure to include how I was solicited to have… relations with you both. And to have not even been offered a drink!”

“…sorry.”

“And—“

About Twilight Sparkle.

Rarity paused. She couldn’t think about that just now.

The entire bar was staring in her direction. She gave a sweet smile to the room and stepped closer to the stallions.

“The world isn’t ending,” Rarity said. “Not if Princess Luna has anything to say about it. Come to Canterlot. There will be food. The sun still shines there.”

From her pack she pulled out six bits and placed them in a neat stack between the stallions. For a moment she hesitated, then pulled out a pink button with a trio of balloons on its smooth surface. It gave out a small honk when she pressed it into Coal’s hoof.

“Pass through Ponyville and give this to Pinkie Pie. We all need a little taste of home.”

Coal appeared on the verge of tears.

“Lady Rarity…”

“I can see it. You both fought with Applejack. The Red Brigade.” She tapped him on his chest. “No one without a good heart fights in the Red Brigade. Find it again. The world will need us all before all this is over.”

She looked them both in the face and started for the exit. She was at the tarp when she heard a shout behind her.

“Lady Rarity!” Coalbreaker called out. He and Swifty had stepped out of their benches and stood in the center of the room. Their postures had changed, standing as the proud earth pony soldiers they once were.

Rarity had read the reports of those first battles, the ferocity in which the griffins fell upon the earth pony guard. A single battalion against the entire might of the griffon army.

Not a single deserter. All stood fast in that sea of claws and talons. The Red Brigade did not break.

“Find it,” she said to the pair.

Find your hearts.

Rarity stepped out into the dark.

Twilight and Spike stood alone at Canterlot station. The clocks all read 11:00 PM but the sun still shone its pale green light overhead. The train was not due to arrive for another ten minutes.

They had stayed longer at her parents’ than they had anticipated. Velvet had begun to talk of her daily routines and the neighbors and the earth pony family that was staying in their empty rooms. Night Light had insisted on making the eggplant parmesans after all and had stepped outside to grill.

Twilight knew that they just wanted her to stay. If even for a moment longer.

At one point Velvet had asked about the lime-green unicorn disguise, and Twilight had waved a dismissive hoof.

“Ponies don’t want to see me,” Twilight had said, and Velvet left it at that.

Nor did they ask about the night of the gala, or the official report that came days later. Forty-two casualties in total. Many of them were guards, most of them civilians who had been caught outside when the freezing fog descended, two ponies in the palace kitchen, and one missing unicorn, the notable Twilight Sparkle – final student of Princess Celestia.

They showed Twilight the report that was written in the Canterlot Times five years ago. She looked at the full-color image of the ponies found deceased in the kitchen. The one named Autumn Run was lacking color, her coat a near perfect match to the grey that was now hers.

Twilight had shown Spike the picture and he shook his head.

“She was dead once the guards found her,” Spike had said.

As the clock approached 10:30, Spike said they had urgent business they had to attend to. Teary goodbyes were had and Twilight found herself whisked in the direction of the train station where they now waited.

“Spike,” she began. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Spike and Luna were both withholding something from her. “I noticed something strange when we were walking to my mom’s.”

“Yeah?”

“And on my parents, too. Maybe it’s something that has been going on for years and I’m only just noticing it because I’ve been gone for so long.”

“What is it, Twi?”

“The rings,” she whispered. “The white ring that’s where my cutie mark should be.”

Spike remained silent.

“Every other pony has it,” Twilight said. “My mom, my dad. The colt in their house. Every single pony that we passed has the ring.”

Twilight shook her head.

“I have too many questions and not enough time to ask them. I know you and Luna are trying to fill me in as quickly as possible, but…” she paused. “Why is it there?”

Spike stared straight ahead.

“It appeared on you in those first days. You were still locked away in one of the palace suites. The entire wing on lockdown. The only ponies who knew what happened to you were our friends. And Solaire.”

Spike took in a shaky breath and let it out.

“Before we knew it, it appeared on Applejack. Then Rarity. Then Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie. Then everyone else. It spread so fast. By the time Luna thought to seal you away, it had already spread to half of Equestria.”

“Spike.” She wanted to scream. Twilight continued in as calm and slow a voice as she could manage. “You know what this is, right?”

“Yes.”

“This ring is the curse’s mark on me. Are you telling me that the curse that has turned me into this has spread to every living being in the world?”

“Only the ponies,” he said in a low tone.

“Oh, Celestia,” Twilight whispered. “So even if we are able to… somehow, get the antidote for Princess Celestia and fix the sun, all of ponykind will still be cursed with what I have?”

“We are workshopping it, Twi.”

She gasped. “W–”

Remain calm.

Twilight drew in a slow breath.

“What have you guys discovered?” she asked. “Is it affecting ponies or is it like a benign thing?”

Spike’s silence wasn’t reassuring.

“It’s uh… whew.” Spike tilted his eyes in her direction. “At first it didn’t do anything. Freaked out a lot of ponies, but now? Ever since we first detected the brain waves in you, we’ve gotten a dozen reports of grey ponies wandering the countryside. They look just like you. Only their eyes are a glowing red and they attack anypony that they see.”

“That was six months ago.”

“Yeah. And four of the reports came in since the start of the month.”

“It’s speeding up,” Twilight said.

“The curse is eating cutie marks, Twilight. It’s fading the cutie mark until only the ring is left.”

Oh, Celestia.

“Well, uh…” Twilight swallowed. “What’s its mechanism? There has to be a way that it works. It clearly doesn’t function at the same speed in every pony or we would all be walking zombies right now. And if I’m patient zero, why am I still sane? There’s a solution to this, Spike. We just have to find it.”

For a moment Spike said nothing, then a curious look crossed his face and he chuckled.

Twilight raised a brow.

“I missed this,” said Spike. “Missed you just… doing your thing.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just if anyone can solve this thing it’s you.” He smiled at her. “It’s good to have you back.”

The number on the electric sign above them changed from a six to a five.

‘FIVE MINUTES ‘TIL ARRIVAL. EXPRESS TRAIN TO PONYVILLE’

Darksign

The Darksign signifies an accursed Undead. Those branded with it are reborn after death, but will one day lose their mind and go hollow.
Death triggers the Darksign, which returns its bearer to the last bonfire rested at, but at the cost of all humanity and souls.

Author's Note

Returning to this after many years. Five, to be exact. Stories are very fluid in their creation. You can plan and plan and plan until the very last detail is plotted out, but once you start putting down words the story takes on a life of its own.

That isn't to say I haven't planned where to go from here. I know where this thing is headed. I hope you will join me.

As for my absence, a lot has changed for me since I last published. I won't bore you with the details but I'm finally in a place where I can comfortably sit and write without having to feel a guilt that I should be doing something else.

I won't jinx it.

Chapter Ten - Left Behind

Fluttershy stood in the frozen forest for the thousandth time. Just as she had before, she wore the plain white cloak that had become associated as her signature. A simple tiara sat upon her head.

Her mane, though it had already grown back almost to its original length since that time, was once again cropped short and tied back into a tight bun. Rarity herself had cut it in one smooth motion with her shears and the hair fell to the barracks floor in a pink mass.

“They will be targeting you now,” Rarity had said. “They know what you are capable of. They know exactly what you mean to the ponies out here.”

Fluttershy had said something back then.

She remained silent now.

Rarity pulled the cloak from her saddlebags and fastened the clasps around Fluttershy’s neck. The cloak ended just where her tail began.

“I know I just cut your mane so they couldn’t grab it, but…”

“It kept me warm,” Fluttershy said in the dream.

Rarity continued fussing about her as if she hadn’t heard. She seemed to be looking through her.

“Dear, please be safe. I can’t bear the thought of you hurt.”

“The same for you, Rarity.”

Fluttershy was back in the frozen forest. She was looking downward at the trail of blood that had dribbled through the snow and between her hooves. The blood came in pulses as if through an artery.

She raised her head, eyes following the blood, until it settled on the mass of corpses not fifty paces away. The stench hit her first, then comprehension at what she was seeing. Griffon and pony, all dead, eyes frozen and staring. Their limbs were stiff with frost and rigor mortis.

Her face calm, Fluttershy stepped toward the massacre.

This wasn’t how it had went. This wall of corpses isn’t how the battle went.

It had been so much worse.

Images of Applejack flashed through her mind. With her back to them, Applejack stood firm in the flame and snow. She looked immovable in her plate armor as the flames rose above her. From her. Impossibly high. Impossibly tall. Burning impossibly hot. Applejack had pulled a firestorm from the earth and sent it hurtling into the sky.

Fluttershy remembered shielding the rest of the Red Brigade from the flames. Back then Applejack didn’t have the control that she had now, just pure power channeled through her hooves.

What did it mean, to have the strength to shield the others from those flames? Was she as strong as Applejack, who had single-handedly turned the tide of that battle and the war with her legendary flame?

She had resisted those flames, hadn’t she? Applejack had trusted her to do it, as she looked back at her bloodied and beaten through the visor of her helm. With just a single look, Fluttershy knew what Applejack was planning.

Fluttershy remembered standing on her hind legs and throwing her hooves up in the air. Every inch of sky was claws and talons and feathers and eyes that desired to kill.

The small pegasi scouting unit that had been attached to them had been annihilated in an instant. Only the Red Brigade remained.

She willed her power into it just as Luna had taught them.

“Every pony can access this,” Luna had said. “Earth ponies and pegasi and unicorns — do we all not possess a kind of magic? Different flavors, different shapes. But we share something else. Something far deeper and primal.”

The white ring that encircled her cutie mark flared bright and from her raised hooves and wings erupted streams of white light. Every molecule in her body burned. Her legs shook. Sweat dotted her brow. She needed to protect the others from the coming flame.

“To me!” she had cried out. “Everypony, please! Get to me!”

Chaos surrounded her. Earth ponies from all across Equestria, once farmers and bankers and school teachers, were now caught in a battle beyond comprehension. They had been caught unprepared by a superior force. The tall trees and a complete whiteout had obfuscated all vision.

What chance did they have to see this coming when their eyes in the sky had been assassinated in the dark?

The griffons fell on them like waves in a storm. With spear and talon they attacked. Everywhere she looked ponies were being slain. Not twenty paces from her, a mare screamed as she was pinned to the snow by two armored griffins and speared through her chest. Another had been grabbed by her rear legs and hauled into the sky above the trees.

Applejack stood far ahead with the remains of her trusted cohort battling at her side. Fluttershy watched as she grabbed the closest and screamed something in his face. Applejack jabbed a hoof in Fluttershy’s direction.

“Leave me,” Fluttershy imagined her saying.

The inferno was coming.

The white circle on her flank was burning now. She had to do this. She had to protect them. The streams met at a point in the air far above her and began to form the top of a massive dome. She had to believe she could do this.

Fluttershy had never attempted a barrier this size.

The others near her had begun to notice. How could they not? If Fluttershy had her eyes open, she would have seen that she had begun to shine a brilliant pure white. Her cloak had lifted from her back wafted about in an ethereal breeze. She appeared as a sun in miniature in that frozen forest.

“To the Saint!” She heard a stallion cry.

Another. “Get to the Saint!”

“Protect the Saint!”

Fluttershy could feel the bodies piling near her, could hear the sounds of battle drawing closer. She blocked them out and focused on her task. Time passed so agonizingly slow that she feared she wouldn’t be ready in time. Applejack would be slain and all they would be left with was a bubble just waiting to be popped.

Fluttershy collapsed to the snow spent, the light from her body gone. Gasping, she opened her eyes to see that she had done it. Her barrier had now completely enclosed her and everyone within in a near-transparent dome that stretched one hundred meters in every direction.

What remained of the Red Brigade stood in a huddled mass all around her. A thousand ponies, she estimated. Only a thousand.

Applejack stood thirty paces outside the dome’s wall and already Fluttershy could hear the cries of the soldiers closest begging her to get inside. Every inch of sky beyond her magic was the entire griffon army.

They dared not approach the single earth pony.

The snow around Applejack had melted revealing the dead grass underneath. The air shimmered in a haze of heat. Embers rose from her hooves.

Applejack was looking skyward at the thousands of griffons that surrounded her. Most were hovering in place. Some were perched in the trees. Many had trained on her their bows already knocked with barb-tipped arrows. Others were poised to throw their spears. Fluttershy watched one griffon strip off her helmet to reveal a head drenched in sweat. Applejack widened her stance and a shockwave of heat pulsed from her body.

The entire forest seemed to be leaving winter.

“Y’all best run now,” Applejack whispered.

In a swift movement Applejack reared back and trailing her front hooves came screaming from the earth twin coils of whiplike magma. She gave a primal shout as she brought the coils together high above her head and then slammed the molten ball back into the earth.

Beyond the dome the entire world caught fire. Pillars of flame erupted from the earth in violent jets. The air itself burned in a blazing orange heat. Trees hundreds of years old turned to tinder and kindling in a matter of seconds. Leaves evaporated. The earth dried and cracked as rivulets of molten earth burst forth from massive fissures. Everypony around her clamped their hooves over their ears and clamped shut their eyes. The inferno was over as quickly as it came.

Fluttershy only stared.

She remembered looking skyward as smoldering, black lumps of something began falling onto her barrier. They came first like the beginning drops of rain at the start of a storm, and Fluttershy stood, numb, as she came to the dark realization that they were pieces of griffon armor, now falling atop them and outside like the worst of an Everfree flash flood.

It lasted for all of five seconds and then all was quiet save for the light tinks of metal armor and the rustling of hooves in snow.

The patch of snow inside the barrier was the only white to be seen for a mile. The forest, and everything else, was gone. Only ash remained. As Fluttershy let the barrier drop, the sudden influx of superheated air seemed to suck the breath from everyone’s lungs. Fluttershy found herself blinking to keep the moisture in her eyes.

The Red Brigade stood like sheep as they took in the sight around them. They had seen Applejack use Celestia’s flame before, but never like this. Nothing like this.

Far ahead at the epicenter of the destruction stood Applejack. She had pulled the helmet off her head where it had been dropped in the scorched earth on its side.

Applejack only stared at the ground.

Fluttershy took to the sky and landed by her friend. On slow hooves she approached.

“Applejack? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the earth pony muttered. “Just fine.”

“You saved us,” Fluttershy said.

A long moment passed between them.

Applejack shook her head. “No. You saved us.”

The snow began to fall once more. One landed on Fluttershy’s eyelash. She wiped it away only for it to come away brown and stained.

Not snow, but ash.

It was you that saved us.” Applejack turned to face her. Applejack’s eyes were wide and soot covered her face.

Of the innumerable amount of griffons that had ambushed them, not a single one remained.

“I’m only the one that killed them,” Applejack said, and all Fluttershy could do was look on as her friend fell to her forelegs in the ash and wept.

She had cremated them all.

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 10 - Left Behind

In that near perfect dark, Fluttershy awoke to the sound of hooves in the hall outside their door. She could tell by the cadence of the steps and the way the floor creaked that whoever was out there was trying to remain quiet. Fluttershy sat up. Her husband stirred in the bed next to her. After a moment of listening she laid a hoof on his side. She knew exactly when he was asleep and awake.

“It’s okay, Mac,” she murmured. “It’s just your sister.”

With his eyes still closed he shifted about in bed. “What’s the time, honey?”

“Past midnight.” Fluttershy could just see the sun reflecting its dim light onto the wall by the window. They could never get the blackout curtains to fully work.

“Baby, stay,” said Mac. He looped a leg around her waist.

“I’m sorry. I Had it again just now.”

Mac remained still.

Fluttershy bent down and kissed him on the side of his head. They both knew what the dream meant — neither her or her sister-in-law would sleep again that night.

Fluttershy stepped out of bed.

****

She found Applejack in the nursery. She had lit a small candle and was standing with her back to the door by the desk in the corner. She wore nothing and her head was bare.

On the other side of Granny Smith’s old room was a hoof-carved cradle created with wood from one of Granny’s favorite apple trees. In a tangle of pink blankets lay Fluttershy’s daughter, Ambrosia, in a deep sleep. The family had simply taken to calling the baby ‘Amber’, to shorten her name and also on account of the color of her coat which had seemed to settle on the lightest of yellow-oranges. Her rose-colored mane had become afflicted with a mild case of bed head.

She had been sleeping through the ‘night’ for many months now. The blackout curtains were the only way to simulate the dark when the sun remained in the sky in perpetuity.

“Sorry,” Applejack whispered, still looking down at the desk. “Thought I heard her crying.”

Fluttershy entered the room and stopped by Applejack’s side. “Did you go to bed?”

The last Fluttershy had seen her was downstairs in the kitchen where Applejack was putting the dishes away from dinner. Mac had already retired to their room after putting Amber down.

“Nah. I went out to the orchard.”

The southern orchard, Fluttershy thought.

“Something came in just before you went to bed. Had to think on it. Had to tell him.”

Fluttershy looked down at the desk where Applejack’s leather scroll case sat opened. Her own had remained in the saddlebags she had carried with her throughout the war, long since stashed away in the back of the closet.

Applejack had told them she would handle communications with the rest ever since they had returned home. She had never dwelled on a message until now.

“What did it say?”

“She’s back,”Applejack replied.

She didn’t have to elaborate further. Spike had been keeping them apprised of Twilight Sparkle’s condition.

‘Any day now’ he had written only a week ago. And now, the time had finally come.

They both stared down at the case. She remembered a meeting they had had many years ago - the last time they had all been together - about what the plan would be if Twilight Sparkle were to ever awake and if nothing had changed in the world.

Fluttershy was sure Applejack was thinking of the same thing.

Nothing had changed. Perhaps ponykind had grown more resilient. Perhaps ponykind had developed new ways to survive. But that was all they were doing.

Surviving.

Scurrying about in the dirt and cold like cockroaches in search of food. Another day’s sustenance.

Nothing had changed.

“Had another dream,” Applejack whispered.

Fluttershy looked at her sister. She hadn’t spoken of such things in weeks.

“Maybe a couple of nights ago,” she continued. “It stuck with me. That's all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Applejack…”

“We were back in the war. I had the armor back on and you had your cloak. But we were back at the house. I remember lookin’ out the window and there was just snow everywhere. Ice.”

Applejack swallowed. The snow had never reached this close to Canterlot.

“All the trees were dead. Killed by the cold. Even inside I could see the frost on my breath.” Applejack finally gave Fluttershy a look through the side of her eye.

“We were all huddled in the center of the living room. The blankets we had did nothin’ — they were frozen stiff. It was you, and Mac. And Apple Bloom, and baby Amber. Just… shaking. We were so cold.”

Her lip trembled and tears were gathering in her eyes.

“I couldn’t keep us warm,” Applejack managed to say. “Was tryin’ to light a fire. A spark. Anything. It wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t do a damn thing. I was screaming for someone to help us. Oh, Celestia… the baby had turned blue. The tears were freezin’ to our cheeks.”

“It’s okay.” Fluttershy stepped close until their bodies were touching and pulled her close with her wing.

“The sun had gone out,” Applejack said. “No stars, no sun. Just the dark.”

“Applejack, we are going to save her.”

“Something else happened,” Applejack whispered. “Right before I woke up, I saw them.”

Fluttershy pulled away slightly to look at Applejack’s face.

The earth pony who they considered the bravest of them all only stared straight ahead, the fear apparent in her haunted gaze.

“They were standing in the windows and the doorway.”

“Who, Applejack?”

“The red phantoms.”

Fluttershy paused. They had spent many nights either around a campfire or fireplace talking about the things they had experienced together or sharing the private fears they had harbored in their hearts. Dreams often became a topic of conversation.

They had all seen the red ghosts that had attacked and killed so many five years ago. Applejack had never once disclosed dreaming of them before.

Fluttershy pulled her even closer. Unwittingly, Fluttershy could feel the white sign burning on her flank.

Why was Applejack dreaming of them now?

****

For the first time since she awoke, Twilight finally had a moment to collect her thoughts. She leaned back in her seat and let the back of her head rest on the cushion. Shutting her eyes, she lost herself to the rhythmic rocking of the train, the metronome-like ‘ba-dump ba-dump’ of old wheels on even older tracks. The train from Canterlot to Ponyville took only an hour but it was exactly what she needed.

Spike had chosen to sit in the booth across the aisle, perhaps sensing that it was space right now that she needed most.

Twilight glanced over at the dragon. Spike really had grown so much. He seemed almost a stranger to her, not just in appearance but also in how he carried himself. On top of it all, Twilight could see his caution. Where he would have once blurted something or said something else without thinking, she could now see the gears turning in his head, the words dying in his mouth and never given sound.

Was it his maturity or secrecy that was keeping things from her?

She shelved it away for another time.

Before they had boarded Spike said that Luna was going to meet them in Ponyville. In Sweet Apple Acres, to be exact. Spike then relayed a message from Luna directed toward Twilight, to ‘look back at her research on the soul’, and promised it would prove to be ‘illuminating’.

Twilight could make a good wager on what Princess Luna had meant. She thought back to the talk she had delivered just days before the gala. In that crowded lecture hall full of her peers, Twilight had posited that of the core tenets that comprised the Triumvirate Three - magic, identity and life - there existed something else that linked those three pillars, a uniting factor that bound them so inextricably together and was yet so discreet and unobtrusive - so ethereal - that nopony had ever thought to define it, let alone prove its existence. The soul - it was akin to studying gravity before the word ‘gravity’ even existed. On that stage Twilight knew that she was going to shake the world’s foundations with her lecture.

She studied the dead pony’s face that was her reflection, and then the pale skies beyond - there was no way she could have anticipated the shockwaves of her discovery would be so devastating.

So cataclysmic.

Twilight thought back to her research and the agonizing method she had developed to complete it. After her initial stumbles as a child, magic had always come second nature to her. It was akin to breathing, an unmatched visual creativity operating within the structured boundaries that was modern magic. One’s own limit in spellcasting had always been defined by the caster’s own imagination, understanding of spell structure, and the size of the personal pool of magic that one could draw upon. Where Twilight lacked in navigating social settings and understanding of societal mores, her mind flourished on the paper and in books. Spells once thought impossible came together like pieces of a puzzle in her head. She could see the finished product, a complex machine of moving gears and components all threatening to self-destruct if even one thing were out of place, but held together by the sheer ingenuity and elegance of her design. If there was a reason she was chosen to be Princess Celestia’s student, it was this - her ability to see the hard set boundaries of magic that had been laid thousands of years ago by legendary minds, and daring to push them further.

Twilight breathed magic, but daring to define the source of it she discovered was like breathing water. She drowned in that research. Pushing the boundaries? This wasn’t breathing oxygen, but noxious gas. No, this was like learning to breathe as the plants and trees. She discovered that trying to prove the existence of the soul through her current understanding of magic was impossible. When everything was filtered through that preconceived lens of magic, it was magic all the way down. No matter what she tried, it was all she could see.

She needed it out of the way. There could be no shortcuts in this. Only a concise excision of all external sources of magic until only that hypothesized single source remained, and only then could she know.

She had stopped eating - magic was found in all things and stores were greatly replenished by foods just as essential vitamins and minerals were. She had stopped drinking. She ingested only the barest amounts of treated water to keep her mouth watered and her entire body from shutting down. Magic was even found in the air, and for that she engineered a mask she wore at all times that forcibly extracted the trace amounts of magic out and filtered the treated air in. She estimated the mask was delivering only ten to twelve percent of the air that she would take in with a normal breath. Every breath was suffocating. Stifled. She gasped and choked for air in her own home and every agonizing second she wanted to quit, and yet she continued.

She then had to eliminate her body’s own function at producing magic which meant she had to stop the restful stages of her sleep. For this another device was devised. A metal band was worn around her head and secured to the base of her horn. It detected the beginning brainwaves of a deep sleep and would force its user back to consciousness with a harsh vibration.

And finally, magic was found in others. More of a theory than a hard science, it was greatly regarded that ponies were such social creatures not just for the sake of it but because the body demanded it. Daily interactions, helping others, and nurturing friendships - these have all been theorized as restorers of balance - of harmony - to the pony’s body, and the more Twilight was convinced of its existence, restoring of the pony’s soul.

Twilight thought of the Elements that she and her friends were chosen for and the great power they wielded when they came together. Was it just magic, or was it something else? The more she uncovered, the more questions that arose.

She needed to stay away from them for the sanctity of her research. If friendship was magic and harmony was sustenance for the soul, then isolation was the solution. She could not see them and they could not know.

Never know.

For twelve days she remained like this in her basement, suffocating and starving and alone, waiting for the final dregs of her magic to drain away in the long, cold hours of the night.

On the thirteenth day she came to it. She had breathed the water - the noxious gas - and had found herself acclimated. She captured that feeling in her mind. Rolled it around on her tongue, felt it. Savored it. Magic, identity and life, to be completely emptied of one of what many believed to be the three tenants of a pony’s very existence and to still be standing, Twilight knew she had arrived. She knew it in her heart of hearts, but her monitors only confirmed it - she was without a single drop of magic in her body. She shelved the feeling away. Her imagination had captured it and her imagination knew no bounds.

Twilight Sparkle reached for it then, her soul. She extended her reach deeper than she had ever gone. Deeper than her entrance exam, deeper than her battles with Sombra and Chrysalis, and went deeper still. The pool that her astronomical amount of magic resided in had been drained and now she was tunneling straight through the bottom. Untested. Uncharted. To the foundation. Something had to support all this and she knew she was going to find it.

She came upon her soul with a sudden force like something had punched the walls of her heart from the inside of the organ. It felt odd to be so directly in tune with her very being. Radiating from her soul was a warmth and a cold. An embrace from her mother. Laughing with friends.

Tears at midnight. Sinking despair.

Twilight embraced it all. At her very source beyond the preconceived understanding of what magic was, Twilight had found another source of power, perhaps the very source of everything itself.

On the train to Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle’s horn took on a black glow.

****

She remembered the feeling of being empty, and of reaching. Twilight was sure it was the same back then in her basement as it was now but without any of the physical sufferings brought on by deprivation. The magic came with surprising ease as if anticipating the weight of a heavy object to be picked up only to find that it weighed nothing at all. All she needed was to breathe differently.

Where before she had felt the warmth and cold of familiarity, here she felt only stillness. No color. No light. No sensation. Just a small pressure, a whisper of an existence that flickered in her grasp. She sensed in it an ephemerality as if it would be snuffed out forever if she squeezed it too hard, jostled it a little too much. And yet as she held the dark sprite that was now seated where her soul once was, Twilight felt what she could only call deja vu.

This… thing. She had felt it before, hadn’t she?

The dreams that came to her in death - of the darkness and the grey lands - they had felt like this. They had the same taste. The same familiarity as an open wound. A sudden dread and longing came upon her. She knew what had come next in those dreams. The blood and an eternity spent in silence. It felt wrong. This thing had a memory, so old and eternal. A stranger sat in her chest and it wanted so deeply to share with her.

To consume.

Twilight pulled away gasping. Her horn went dead in an instant.

“You okay?” came a voice from across the train’s aisle. Spike sat in the opposite booth, an open book laying spine up across his thigh.

She laid her hooves on her chest. ”Y-yeah. I’m fine. Just startled myself. That’s all.”

Spike gave her a curious look. “You figured it out. The soul arts, I mean.”

“What?” Twilight met his gaze.

“The soul arts. Your ring, it started to glow.” Tilting his head, he wagged his eyebrows in the direction of her flank. “I was a little worried that it would take you some time but Luna never was. She said if you figured it out before then you’d definitely have no trouble now. I guess she was right.”

“Yeah. It was kind of surprising how quickly it came back to me.”

“Well, that’s just you. You were born to do this. But you should’ve seen Luna’s face when Pinkie and Fluttershy started to master it. Heh, now that I think about it I guess she wasn’t that surprised. But still.” He shrugged his shoulders and returned to his book.

Maybe she hadn’t heard him right.

Pinkie and Fluttershy?

She leaned toward the dragon. “Come again?”

****

They were still in the nursery when Fluttershy heard the Wonderbolts’ whistle. It sounded from a great distance, a high pitched note that came in bursts of three before a slight pause and then starting again. It sounded like an emergency siren, the way the note slid from low to high with each burst of sound.

The whistle caught Applejack’s attention soon after - it was getting closer. The two ponies looked at each other and then headed for the door.

Outside in the dim sun, Fluttershy threw wide her wings and took to the air. Though she would never match Rainbow Dash in the sky, years of warfare had made her a competent flier. She hovered in place just above the homestead and focused her gaze on the southern horizon.

She saw them immediately by the flare they had lit. Trailing a tail of red smoke were a pair of Wonderbolts leading what looked to be small cloud. They were perhaps a mile out but approaching with great speed and descending rapidly. Old instincts returned to her and Fluttershy took in a slow breath. Her white ring began to glow and from her body emitted a bright light. When the whistling continued, she willed herself to burn brighter. She pulsed the light three times in rhythm with the whistle. When the whistling stopped, she nodded to herself satisfied. She was sure they had seen her.

Still glowing, Fluttershy landed in the Apple homestead’s front yard. As Applejack approached, Fluttershy took a couple of steadying breaths. There were few reasons anypony would seek her out like this.

The two Wonderbolts landed a good twenty paces away at the bottom of the hill. Behind them was a formed cloud, hastily thrown together judging by its construction. In it lay another Wonderbolt painfully still. Her blood had soaked through the cloud she lay on.

Nothing needed to be said. Fluttershy gave her wings a mighty flap and burst toward the wounded pony. She landed and not a second later she began her assessment.

Even through the suits that the Wonderbolts wore, Fluttershy could see it. Talon marks from a griffon, without a doubt. The wounds were numerous and deep but not life-threateningly so, and none of the major vessels were damaged. The blood seemed to be a lot but Fluttershy had seen much worse. Something else was at play. The pony’s breathing was too shallow and her color too pale to match this level of injury. With the tip of her wing she quickly pulled open one of the injured pony’s eyes.

Bloodshot and rolled back.

“When did this happen?” Fluttershy voiced. She was already willing her strength into her hooves and wings.

“Lady Fluttershy. Not even an hour,” said one of the Wonderbolts. A stallion. “Our captain said to take her to Cloudsdale, but when she started to convulse in the back, we thought to bring her here. We suspected…”

Poison.

Not enough time. Fluttershy reared back and laid her front hooves on the pony’s body. She then reached forward with her wings and laid them on her as well. With painful recognition, she saw the purplish discoloration of the blood and the abnormal amount of slimy crimson clots. This pony’s blood was solidifying inside her body.

Perhaps it was her years at the edge of the Everfree, but Fluttershy had acquired a specific knowledge of the anatomy of a wide variety of creatures. She knew how things should look and what she should expect to see if something was out of place. She knew what caused what and learned what steps she should take to help the injured animals that came to her. And with the wide variety of poisonous plants and fungi and venomous reptiles and insects, she had, secondary to her need to care for her injured animal friends, had more exposure and hoofs-on experience in the field dealing with the arcane and obscure than many of the practicing professionals around her. The war had only sharpened her senses and taken her judgment to a needle-fine point.

Fluttershy focused on the pony beneath her. She couldn’t repair her damaged blood cells, but she could at least remove the toxin that caused this.

She willed her energy into the pegasus and imagined it as a gentle wave passing through her body. With it, she wished for her a peace and calm, a serenity that transcended even the most beautiful and deepest of sleeps.

The pegasus seemed to breathe easier and her body relaxed into the cloud.

“What is her name?” Fluttershy could just see the two Wonderbolts in her peripheral vision.

“Cloud Flare, my Lady,” said the stallion.

Fluttershy frowned. The name sounded familiar. Had Rainbow Dash mentioned her before in one of their letters, or perhaps just in passing? So many names to remember these days. She was scared for the ones she had forgotten.

Fluttershy pushed the thoughts away and focused on the energy now washing through Cloud Flare. The pony’s body had taken on a faint glow.

She could feel them all with her aura, all the areas of micro damage caused by the thickened blood. She breathed a sigh of relief as she focused on the head and heart and saw the damage there was minimal.

Fluttershy closed her eyes then and reached. Her ring began to glow and burn. She then turned all her will onto the miles of vessels in Cloud Flare’s body. She breathed for her silent words of purification and prayed that things return to as they should be. She willed the corruption gone. Was her faith not more than a match for this? What was one more life when she had already saved thousands? Every day she wondered if she had really done the things they said she had done. If Fluttershy was ever sure of something, it would have been in her own uncertainty.

Fluttershy spared a glance at the pony named Cloud Flare. She had never grown complacent to the fact that in these moments an entire life either continued or ended by the actions of her hooves and the strength of her will. Every action deserved her one-hundred percent.

A bead of sweat trailed into Fluttershy’s brow.

She had to believe she could do this.

With one final burst of energy the task was finished. She had dissolved the clots and all that was left to do was seal Cloud Flare’s superficial wounds. She was going to live. Fluttershy pulled away and the glow left her patient’s body.

Fluttershy sat on the ground, spent. She looked up to see that Applejack had stepped away and was returning with a trio of glasses balanced on a tray on her back. Three glasses of crisp cider, two of them with ice and one without. Fluttershy smiled.

“Reckon you two were flyin’ pretty hard,” Applejack said to the two Wonderbolts. She pulled the tray loaded with ciders off her back. “This one’s on us.”

The two pegasi seemed to stand straighter. They had both pulled the goggles down around their necks. The light-absorbing models. They also wore the modified cold-repellent suits that had specifically been requested by that unit. They were rarely seen so close to Equestria’s interior. The balaclava portion of the flight suit had also been undone and lay limp across the back of their necks like an afterthought.

“Thank you, uh…“

“It’s just Applejack now,” she replied. “Here.”

The two pegasi each took a glass.

“Thank you,” repeated the stallion and he took a swig. He appeared to be just a little older than them and was well built for a pegasus stallion, while the mare that had flown with him was just on the cusp of adulthood. She couldn’t have been any older than Apple Bloom, and perhaps just a touch younger than Applejack and Fluttershy themselves when Twilight Sparkle had first come to Ponyville.

She beamed at the two of them.

“Oh,” the stallion began. “This is Nimbus, and I’m Gus. Gusty Gale, if we are being proper.”

“No need,” Applejack said.

Gus seemed to relax a bit. He looked at the two of them. “I’m really sorry about disturbing you ladies at this hour. We weren’t even sure if you would be here.”

He glanced at Fluttershy.

“It’s okay,” Fluttershy replied and rose back to her hooves. Applejack handed her the un-iced cider without looking. “We were both up.”

Fluttershy looked at the sleeping form of Cloud Flare.

“She might not have made it if you hadn’t.”

Nimbus took a cautious step forward. “It’s really an honor watching you work. I mean… it’s you. The Saint of the Sun. And both of you, really. In the flesh. Wow.”

Fluttershy smiled but Applejack gave an easy tilt of her head and chuckled.

“Just don’t go bowin’, now. We ain’t royalty or nothin’.”

Sensing the lull, Fluttershy took the moment to step away and heal the rest of Cloud Flare’s wounds. Their conversation soon faded from her ears. Sealing the gouges in her flesh was elementary compared to the work she had just done. Less than a dozen times before during the war she had had to deal with the aftermath of this specific griffon poison. Long suspected to be concocted from a plant native to their region in the north-east, it had been at least a year since she had last seen this kind of poisoning. The increasing rarity of it had Fluttershy thinking the plant had been killed off by the cold, and soon after she thought nothing of it all.

Until today. It was only a bitter reminder that she had saved less than half of this poison’s victims. Fluttershy frowned as she worked. She had gotten lucky today.

In that moment a snippet conversation grabbed her attention.

“- fine,” said Gus. “Oh yeah, she’s doing just fine.”

“We even thought we saw her headed this way. Or at least toward Canterlot. You know how fast she is. And these suits in the dark really do their jobs.”

“We were really sure she was going to be here. Cumulus said she was going to see an ‘old friend’, and ah…” he shrugged. “Let’s just say that the captain keeps to herself mostly.”

Not a scratch remained on Cloud Flare. Fluttershy stepped away, her gaze distant. She never took much joy in saving ponies as she would rather they had never been hurt at all, but now Fluttershy only felt cold. Perhaps she hadn’t processed the situation properly.

Of course they would be meeting again. When Spike had written to Applejack explaining that they were headed to Sweet Apple Acres tonight, of course he had written to everyone else.

Including her.

She hated to think of it, their last meeting. It had ended in a fight between the pony who had always been there for her and the pony she now calls a sister. It couldn’t be mediated then, and Fluttershy hated to think of it now.

As Fluttershy turned to face Applejack and the two Wonderbolts, she saw that same expression on Applejack’s face that she had worn nearly two years ago. She had tried to hide it but Fluttershy could see it in the tenseness of her body and the subtle creases at the corners of her mouth.

Though she looked just as she always had, a whirlwind was raging in Applejack’s mind.

“Well, she’ll turn up eventually,” said the earth pony through a false smile. “She always does.”

****

“You’re the strongest of us all. You can’t just quit!”

“I’m done. I’ve bled enough.”

The other slams her hoof on the table. Her words come like ice. “Then others are gonna die because you got scared.”

“You know what’s at stake for me. For her.”

“Fluttershy can take care of herself. Besides, she has your brother. We need you. With her gone especially.”

A pause.

“RD, we won already. What are you still fightin’ for?”

“It’s won when the world is back to what it was.”

“You think it’s gonna go back just because you put on your suit and kill a couple of griffons in the dark? Don’t you see we're all just tryin’ to survive?”

“They’re killing us.”

“You’re right. Maybe one day they get bold and come for my family next.”

“If you’re out there where you should be they will never get that deep.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I know how they work.”

Applejack shakes her head. “I’ve done enough.”

“You walk away from this, I'll never look at you the same.”

“Girls, please—“

“No, Pinkie.” Applejack stands from her chair. “She wants me to walk away from my family. Again. I’ve done my time. Done more than my fair share of killin,’. If she can’t see why I do what I do, it’s because she’s never had one in the first place.”

“What did you say?”

“I think you heard me just fine.”

“Okay. Wow. How dare you. What we do out there, we do for everypony in this room. Everypony in Equestria. We carry the hope that there’s gonna be a future. A future for everyone. For your family. For her daughter. I respect it, Applejack. It takes courage to walk away. But I think you’re wrong. The powers we have, I can’t explain it. But what I do know is that we all have a duty to every single pony out there. If we have the means to protect them, then we should.”

Applejack says nothing.

“And what if she comes back,” Rainbow Dash says. “Solaire laid it all out for us. If she comes back we have a real shot at fixing everything. Are you gonna be able to step up? Put that hat back on?”

“RD…”

“It could be the easiest thing. Or we could die there and never come back.”

A silence fills the room.

There. A place further even than death. At least death could be explained.

“All I'm saying is I haven’t given up hope on Twilight. When she wakes up, I’ll be ready to lay everything down and go over there and fight. And until that time comes I am going to continue fighting for us. Right here.” She taps her hoof on the table and then sets her eyes on Applejack. “AJ, I am sorry for what I said. You aren’t a coward. I think we’re all just scared of what’s coming. But just think about what I’m saying right now. We don’t know what’s over there and Solaire is going to need some ponies to go with him. It’s like what Luna said - we all can’t stay and we all can’t go. But when that time comes I know where I will be.”

She turns and leaves for the door. This is the last time Rainbow Dash had stepped hoof in the Apple family home. She looks once more into the house and straight at Applejack.

“Just think about it while you’re here. Kicking trees. Helping raise the baby. We could fail without your fire and any hope for curing Celestia will die with us. Every single pony that we have ever known will be trapped on a frozen rock with nowhere to go.”

Head down, Rainbow Dash steps out into the pale sun.

“Light all the fires you want. Dig your bunkers until you run out of ground. None of it will matter if we fail over there. Everything dies without Princess Celestia.”

****

Twilight sat in silence as she stared out the train window. They were about twenty minutes from Ponyville when Twilight saw the first one. And then more and more. Where there were once rolling green fields were now smatterings of slums and shanty towns. At first they were just a small collection of clustered shacks and huts, but as they drew closer to Ponyville they were becoming more concentrated until hobbled-together buildings were all she could see.

An invisible line kept new structures from being erected too close to the railway, but past that boundary was a wall of chaotic housings thrown together without any regard for crowding or safety. As she looked she would catch a splash of color in the mess of rotting wood and corrugated metal. Ponies like ghosts wandering in the dim light.

Soon, the shanty towns gave way to rows and rows of large concrete complexes built many stories high. Massive dirt rows were lines in the grid in which the apartments were built. As she stared out into the rows she could see where the dirt roads began to curve. She imagined if she was viewing this new Ponyville from above, she would see her old home as the epicenter of a circular maze of concrete blocks and constructions.

Twilight could see the years she had missed in the buildings outside. Somepony, a city designer or planner, had probably wished to instill some order in a world in chaos, and thought to answer the mass emigrations with mass expansion of the city. The plan had succeeded for some time until the demand began to exceed the rate that even the crude concrete could be built but that did not stop ponies from needing protection from the elements, and something made Ponyville the best place to settle.

Perhaps it was the presence of light.

On the periphery of the city a couple of shacks became a shanty town, and then the shanty town became a ring around the city from which a chaos of unmitigated construction and growth expanded from.

Twilight could only speculate at the amount of ponies that had come here. How much of Equestria was now subsisting in the slums outside of Ponyville? How many more were still to come?

Somepony had given up hope in providing housing for the refugees. Perhaps there had never been hope at all.

At once the concrete apartments fell away and the Ponyville that she knew came into view. She could feel the train’s brakes engaging as the train turned slightly to enter the train station.

Though it was practically night time despite the sunlight, the amount of ponies out in the street in front of the station was staggering. Though it reminded her in some ways like Canterlot, the first thing she noticed is that the ponies here looked busy. They moved as if they were going someplace, or stood behind makeshift stands hawking their wares. Many carried worn saddlebags. Even from the train she could see the resilience of these ponies beneath the weariness.

There was not a familiar face in the crowd.

Spike had already risen from his booth when the train came to a complete stop. He was rolling up a scroll and placing it back in a leather case. He took a quick glance at Twilight.

“Pinkie’s coming aboard,” he said. “She’s gonna help you blend in since Luna’s disguise has worn off.”

Despite herself, Twilight found herself smiling. She imagined Pinkie boarding in all seriousness with a suitcase loaded with a trench coat, fedora and walrus mustache. She imagined nothing less than the pink pony herself wearing the exact same thing.

Her smile fell away when she looked down at her hooves. No amount of inconspicuous clothing would cover up her corpse of a body. Her black, sunken eyes. They may as well wrap her up like a mummy. Ship her around in a box. Twilight raised up slightly in her seat.

Toward the train’s front, the train doors squeaked open. A familiar bob of pink mane came first, and then the rest of the pony. Pinkie Pie entered the train with a casualness as if this were her normal commute. She carried with her a thermos of something steaming and had on a pair of shades. She looked around the empty train for a moment before starting down the aisle with a practiced ease. The shades obscured her gaze and her mouth betrayed nothing.

Twilight squinted.

She wasn’t sure Pinkie could even see them.

“Hey, Pinkie,” said Spike.

Pinkie Pie began chewing and blew a pink bubble. She sucked the gum back in her mouth and popped it.

“Hey, Spike,” she said, chewing. She angled her head toward Twilight. “Who’s the stiff?”

“Uh…”

Pinkie beamed a wide smile and pushed the sunglasses up her forehead. “Just kidding. Heya, Twilight!”

”Hey, Pinkie!”

With an uncanny swiftness the earth pony slipped around the dragon and pulled Twilight into a quick hug. She put two kisses on each side of her cheeks. She then pulled away and, still smiling, looked at Twilight close. “We haven’t seen you in so long, we were beginning to think you were dead!”

“Ah hah, very funny,” said Spike. “How long were you sitting on those?”

“Maybe a minute or two!” she sang. Pinkie looked her up and down. “You look a little different.”

“Um, yeah.”

“Doing something different with your mane? Trying out a new coat shampoo?”

“Well…”

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Er—“

Spike sighed. “C’mon, Pinkie.”

Pinkie gave a small smile. “You’re right. I’m just so excited! Twilight, I’m not going to sugar-coat this - you look a little rough around the edges, like… how can I put this…” She put a hoof on her chin and hummed. “Like you’ve been dead for the last five years and have come back from across the veil of death only by the grace of a curse that we cannot even begin to understand.“

“That’s exactly what happened,” said Spike.

“And seeing you now,” Pinkie continued, “I’m feeling a whirlwind of emotions, like…” She hummed again. “Like how I can phrase this, Ohmigosh it's so hard to put into words! I’m so so so happy that you’re back but it’s like… also not-so-happy? I’m excited. But also anxious. I’m hopeful, but also scared. I’m spinning all over the place and I don’t know where I’m gonna land!”

Pinkie smiled again.

“Why, Pinkie?” Twilight asked. “It’s just me.”

“This is the beginning of something,” Pinkie said. “And things need to change. Like bad. I don’t know what you’ve been told, Twilight, but one or two things might have happened and everything has kind of gone a little kooky!”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“Things are going to change now,” said Pinkie. “Maybe slow at first, maybe fast. I don’t know. But you’re an agent of change, Twilight. You always have been. If you see a problem, you fix it. That’s just who you are. It’s taken us everything just to keep up.”

“Pinkie… I’m sorry I haven’t been here.”

Pinkie shrugged and then hugged her again. She held Twilight close. “I think we were all waiting for you. It’s not that we haven’t been trying, but so so so much has happened. I don’t know where to begin.”

She pulled away. Twilight could just see the corners of her smile quavering.

“Maybe it’s not fair of me to say all this,” Pinkie whispered. Her eyes were wet and glassy.

Twilight searched her friend’s face. She wanted to hug her again but as Twilight raised her hoof, something odd caught her eye.

Her hoof was purple.

She craned her neck to inspect the rest of her body and saw that the rest of her had been restored as well. Her cutie mark was also back, but the white ring remained. She spun around toward the window to try and catch a glimpse of herself in the faint reflection.

Purple eyes stared back at her. Her mane was neat and colored as it had always been.

She was herself.

Twilight spun back toward her companions.

“Wha…”

Pinkie winked back at her. She turned slightly and tapped her flank where a white ring encircled her usual three balloons. The ring was putting off a faint light.

“When did you…?”

“Picked up some new party tricks,” Pinkie said. ”A little bit of misdirection, a dash of sleight of hoof. Gotta keep the material fresh, y’know?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “And a whole heap of illusion magic. Can we go now?”

Twilight stood there bewildered. Was this the soul arts he had mentioned before?

Pinkie started for the train exit and the dragon fell in step behind her. “You’re no fun, Spike. I already said I was sorry for turning you invisible!”

“Pinkie! That really freaked me out!”

“And that time I turned your sword into balloons.”

“I was about to deliver an address to the Council. So messed up.”

“And that thing I put in your bathroom.”

Wait, what?”

“Nevermind!” Pinkie sang. They had just reached the exit and their voices had grown distant. “Question! Was it just you guys on the train?”

“Oh yeah,” said Spike. “We blocked off the whole platform on account of, uh…”

He looked back toward Twilight who was still standing by her seat.

“You okay, Twi?” he called back.

She had watched them go with some sort of ache in her chest. They had grown so familiar with each other. At this point, Spike has known Pinkie for more than twice as long as Twilight had. She has been dead for longer than they had known her alive.

Twilight tried to will the feeling away but it lingered like a rotten smell.

“I’m coming!” She called back, and feigned a smile.

She had been left behind.

****

Twilight kept her head down as they walked through the center of Ponyville’s streets. By some unspoken cue, they had chosen to pass through town square. The most crowded Twilight had seen the square was during the Summer Sun celebration when the whole town had come to gather. The crowd now was Manehattan dense, and during ‘sleep’ hours to boot. Just passing through, Twilight heard at least four different accents that were found natively nowhere near Ponyville.

Pinkie was on her left and Spike on her right. She couldn’t help but notice that ponies seemed to step out of their way similar to how they parted ways for Luna, but somehow different. They didn’t bow or scramble out of the way. They smiled at Pinkie as they passed and they stepped back not out of fear or obligation, but through something else.

Every so often Pinkie would acknowledge a pony with a quick greeting or hoof bump. Others she would exchange hugs with and a few quiet words before moving on. All seemed happy to see her.

Twilight had a sneaking suspicion that Pinkie knew everypony they passed. She glanced up at Spike and though he kept his head forward, she caught his eyes tracing the buildings lining the road, his mouth a thin line.

“Have you been back here much?”

Her voice snapped him out of his trance. “Huh? No. I…”

He grimaced. “Every so often. But not a whole lot. Too busy. Too many memories.”

Twilight nodded slowly. So lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed until long after they had turned down the street. The treehouse library loomed in the distance and that familiar pang of anxiety raced through her gut.

Spike seemed to notice her trepidation.

“It’s not how you would remember,” he said. “In the chaos of those first few months, some vandals had broken in and, uh…”

“Let’s just say they weren’t big fans of literature,” Pinkie said. “Or you. Mainly you. Actually, I think it was just you, Twilight.”

Spike groaned. “Pinkie…”

“They probably liked books.”

“Pinkie!”

The earth pony gave a nonchalant shrug. “They destroyed the library and all your stuff.”

“Yeah. That.” Spike sighed. “Mayor Mare then had it converted into a memorial for you for a time, but I guess she started catching heat for dedicating such a large amount of public space to a, ah, such a divisive pony, that she caved.”

“I don’t even know what it is now,” Pinkie added. “Just a tree, I guess. Ponies go in there all the time to rest and sleep. Maybe it’s some kind of shelter?”

“It is a shelter, Pinkie.”

“Huh.”

They were getting close now. The red door had become faded and chipped. Black curtains blocked the windows.

“Let’s keep going,” Spike said, continuing on. He sidestepped some ponies and didn’t turn to see if they were following.

Twilight looked at the dragon’s broad back and swallowed away the lump in her throat. Was he feeling the same things? Had he already felt them a long time ago? She wanted to pull him into a hug.

This place used to be their home. Now it was just a big tree.

Too many things had changed. The crowd was oppressive. The noise, the smells, this wasn’t the Ponyville she had remembered or even envisioned on the train ride over. Even in the center of town she could just make out the concrete complexes that bordered the town. The buildings were massive brick teeth in the mouth that was the horizon, and Ponyville was foodstuffs just waiting to be chewed, for the upper row of denticulation to fall from the skies and grind them into dust.

They were a wall closing in. All of Equestria packed into a pen.

Herded.

Twilight shook her head. Too many things had changed.

After all of this, could things even hope to go back to how they were?

****

Twilight wasn’t sure how to feel when she saw that Sweet Apple Acres had been walled off. Where there was once a plain white fence bordering the property in which even a foal could get through, there was now a large white stone wall, solidly constructed and obscuring all sight from outside. She figured a solid buck wouldn’t even shake it, let alone do any damage. As they were cresting the last hill before entering the property she had caught sight of that bright red homestead, but they were soon descending the hill and the home fell from view behind the white stone.

“That’s new,” Twilight said. She already knew the answer.

“Vandals,” Spike said.

Yep.

Further ahead at the end of the dirt road, Twilight eyed the sturdy wooden gate and the small guardhouse that stood close by. A tan earth pony stallion in a thick vest stepped out of the small construction and regarded them with passivity. A stalk of wheat hung out from beneath the thick bristles of a brush-like mustache.

Twilight didn’t miss the red and green-speckled apple on his flanks. Nor the white ring.

“Hey there, Wagener!” called Pinkie. “How’s things?”

“Just fine, Miss Pinkie. No trouble tonight. Hope it keeps.” His voice had that familiar country twang.

“Good. Good. I brought you some treats from down at the shop. Bring some to your family, will you? I know how your boy feels about the blueberry ones!”

His bristle mustache concealed any hint of a smile. His expression was a stone mask. “Oh, mighty kind o’ you, Pinkie Pie, I could just cry right now. I couldn’t tell you the amount of joy it brings me to see you. You always brighten things up around here. In these hard times we always look forward to havin’ you around.”

“Aw, Wagener! I’m just doing my part!”

”Hah! Open ‘em up!” The mustache rapped his hoof on the gate and soon after, some kind of mechanism ka’chunk’d on the other side.

The gates swung inward where two more earth ponies were pulling some heavy braided ropes attached to the gates.

“Stop by sometime,“ the mustache said. “Thistleberry and I could whip you something up. Least we could do and all.”

Pinkie winked and clicked her tongue at the stallion. She passed the threshold into Sweet Apple Acres and gestured for Twilight to follow. The two other earth ponies who stood at the gate’s interior had apple cutie marks as well.

“Pretty cool guy,” Pinkie said. “Bit of a party animal though.”

“Are they all Applejack’s family?”

“More or less,” Pinkie said. “When things started to go bad, which was like immediately, Big Mac wrote to every single Apple in Equestria. He put up the Apple signal and they all came here.”

Twilight had made a mental note of the apple trees they saw at the edge of town and lining the entire dirt path that led to Sweet Apple Acres. The walk had taken fifteen minutes and it was apple trees all the way through, and as far as she could see. She had never paid much attention to it before, but she was fairly certain the apple orchards of Sweet Apple Acres didn’t push directly to the edge of town. At least before, anyway. She remembered seeing a small homestead in the middle of a copse of apple trees about a hundred paces off the path. Another of Applejack’s relatives, no doubt.

She was not prepared for the sight in front of her. Even from just inside the gate she could see at least a dozen earth ponies engaging in a variety of tasks. All with apple cutie marks, they went about their work with a practiced ease. Some were sorting through woven baskets full of the red fruit. One was hauling a wagon back up the main path. Another stallion was coming down the path with a wagon covered with tarp. They kept the gate open as the wagon stallion wheeled past.

But what caught Twilight’s eye was the amount of ponies who were bucking trees. Stranger still, they seemed to not move from tree to tree between each kick. The air was full with the sound of hooves meeting wood, and the falling of fruit to the ground. She paid careful attention to a green mare closeby, a hat similar to Applejack’s upon her head.

She had just kicked her tree when she took a couple of steps back and scrunched her eyes at the trunk. Then the leaves. Twilight didn’t know what she saw but the mare was apparently satisfied as she nodded her head and stepped toward the tree once more. She placed her front hooves on the thick trunk. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, and then Twilight saw it.

The ring on the green mare’s flank began to glow, and Twilight could almost sense the transference of energy. Her hooves too began to let off a faint light and soon the tree’s leaves were glowing as well. The mare had closed her eyes as if to sleep but her mouth was moving, as of voicing a silent prayer.

Twilight looked toward the tree’s crown once more and was stunned. The apples were growing back impossibly fast. In less than a minute the tree had replenished its entire harvest. She stepped back and looked up at the apples with a smile. She knocked them down into the waiting baskets not a second later.

Twilight didn’t notice the mare that had approached them.

“Pretty neat, huh?” came the voice. Unmistakable.

Twilight smiled and turned toward her friend.

“Hey, Applejack.”

Applejack wore an easy smile but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked Twilight up and down before stepping close and throwing her legs around Twilight’s neck. Twilight reached up and patted Applejack on the back, but something wasn’t quite right. She wrinkled her brow. She had been on the receiving end of Applejack’s hugs before - so strong and so warm, so full of life.

Something was missing.

Applejack pulled away and though her smile was wider, it only revealed something else.

“It’s good you’re back,” Applejack said.

It wasn’t the lack of her hat, no.

Or the white ring that surrounded her cutie mark.

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “I’ve been asleep a long, long time.”

“Yup. Ain’t that the truth.” She chuckled. It came out as hollow. “Pinkie? Spike? Why don’t we get y’all up to the house? We got a lot to discuss.”

Applejack turned and started up the path they had walked so many times before. She was cold, Twilight realized. Not in warmth or in hospitality. Twilight could not pinpoint it. Applejack was just cold.

They followed her without a word.

Too many things had changed.

Flashfire

The pinnacle of Celestia’s Flame, flashfire ignites everything in sight with an intense, unbearable heat.

Only used once by Applejack the Truthbearer in the penultimate battle of the Pony-Griffon Stasis War, the flames were said to have burned so hot and so bright that nary a trace of her enemies remained.

Author's Note

Another one.

Chapter Eleven - You're Still You

Twilight Sparkle, Spike, and Pinkie Pie followed Applejack up the dirt path toward the farmhouse, her hooves stirring up small puffs of dust. The greenish light of the never-setting sun stretched long shadows through the apple trees, their branches heavy with fruit. The orchards looked alive, vibrant even, a startling contrast to the rest of the world. Twilight couldn’t help but wonder at the magic it took to keep them that way.

“We’ve been keepin’ the land goin’, best we can,” Applejack said, her voice steady but heavy with weariness. “Soul magic keeps the trees alive, even without proper sunlight. Or nutrients in the soil. Ain’t much choice in the matter—these orchards feed most of the world now."

Twilight looked gave a quick glance to the dozens of ponies she could see just from the homestead's main path. "Are they all your family?"

"We're all family!" Pinkie exclaimed with a bounce.

"They sure are," Applejack chuckled, though the sound held more weariness than mirth. "Got more cousins and second cousins than I can count these days. Anypony who needs a home, well, we take 'em in as long as we got the space. We're stronger together than apart. Especially now."

They continued on, drawing closer to the large red building that was the Sweet Apple Acres home. Looking left past the barn, Twilight could see through the trees what she could only describe as a small neighborhood of cramped wooden homes and shelters. Laundry lines were heavy with clothes. A pair of fillies chased each other through the grass, their laughs carried on the air towards the group.

"Did Carrot Top finally take you up on your offer?" Spike asked.

"Mm? Oh yeah," Applejack said. She shook her head. "Wasn't right what happened to her. I just wish she moved in sooner. Girl's pride got in the way."

Spike clicked his tongue. "She shouldn't have tried to tough it out out there."

"That's Carrot Top though," Pinkie said.

Twilight kept her silence as they continued their conversation. Her eyes fixed on the farmhouse in the distance as the weight of past recollections sat like a weight in her chest. It was like stepping through time itself, each detail a preserved moment from a happier era. The building hadn't changed much at all in five years. The weathered red walls stood firm and proud. Even now, she could see traces of the last paint job she'd helped with, back when their biggest worries had been keeping hooves clean and finishing before sunset.

The porch still had its creaky steps and that old rocking chair - the one where she'd spent many evenings with the others, sharing stories and cider under starlit skies. The curtains in the windows - the same cheerful checkered patterns Granny Smith had stitched—hung exactly as she recalled, a splash of domestic warmth that felt almost defiant in its normalcy. It felt both like coming home and stepping into a museum of what she'd lost, and the contradiction made her heart ache with a strange mixture of comfort and grief.

Yet as Twilight looked closer, she saw the changes. The shutters were chipped, the roof sagged slightly on one side, and the flowerbeds beneath the windows were dry and overrun with weeds. It felt like the house was holding its breath, standing strong for the sake of its inhabitants but quietly showing its age.

“It ain't much but it's home," Applejack said with a chuckle. "C'mon inside, y'all."

Inside, the creak of the floorboards under her hooves was achingly familiar. The air smelled of apples, wood polish, and just a hint of cinnamon. For a fleeting moment, Twilight felt like a filly coming home after a long trip, back when the world was simpler. The walls held were covered in a bric-a-brac of framed photos. But that moment shattered when Fluttershy emerged from the kitchen, her soft yellow coat catching the dim glow emanating from the nearby lanterns. She moved with a slow, casual grace, her pink eyes holding a gentle concern as they landed on Twilight.

"Twilight Sparkle," Fluttershy said. She moved forward, careful and deliberate, and pulled Twilight into a warm hug.

Twilight stood rigid in the embrace, her hooves moving mechanically as she returned the hug. Fluttershy drew back, her pink eyes scanning Twilight's face with concern.

"How have you been?" Fluttershy asked.

"I..." Twilight started, then stopped, her voice catching. How could she possibly explain what it felt like to die? To float in that endless void? To wake up and find five years had slipped away like water through her hooves? She forced a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm here," she finally managed, the words falling flat between them.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Pinkie Pie said. She moved to embrace her friend, their hug warm. Fluttershy's gave a soft giggle as they parted.

Fluttershy looked the group over and gestured back into the kitchen with a wing. "Shall we sit?"

The group passed the threshold into the kitchen, Spike ducking under the low doorway, and gravitated toward the dining table, its surface marked with years of use. Fluttershy retrieved an old kettle, the metal dulled with age but clearly well-maintained. She sparked the light on the oven and set the pot on top. Twilight took the corner seat at the table and watched as her friends settled into a routine she wasn't familiar with.

"Big Mac still resting up?" Applejack asked. She sat stiff in her chair, a small frown on her mouth as she looked down at the table's surface.

Fluttershy nodded as she arranged cups before them. "He's upstairs. The work took a lot out of him yesterday."

"Poor thing's been working himself to the bone again," Pinkie chimed in, helping herself to the cookie jar she knew was kept in the highest cabinet. She tossed one to Spike, who caught it with practiced ease. "You really ought to tell him to take it easier, Shy."

The casual way Pinkie moved through the kitchen, the easy familiarity of her actions, spoke of countless visits and shared moments. Twilight watched it all in silence, feeling like a stranger in a place that should have felt like second home.

Twilight watched as her friends began discussing the day's work and various happenings around the farm. The conversation flowed naturally around her, though she contributed little beyond brief nods.

"Oh!" Pinkie perked up suddenly. "How's little Amber doing today?"

"She's sleeping now," Fluttershy said with a warm smile. "She had quite the evening playing with her blocks."

Twilight's ears pricked forward. "Amber?"

"Ambrosia. My daughter." Fluttershy said. "She's upstairs in the nursery. Would you like to meet her?"

Twilight paused, and then nodded, her throat tight. Another milestone she'd missed while she was gone. They climbed the stairs and paused outside what Twilight remembered as Granny Smith's room. Her heart sank at the realization that she hadn't noticed her absence earlier.

Inside, the room had been transformed. Soft yellow wallpaper replaced the old floral print, and a mobile of butterflies hung above a wooden crib. Twilight approached slowly, peering down at the sleeping foal. The baby's coat was a warm red like Big Mac's, with traces of Fluttershy's pink in her mane.

"She gets bigger every time I see her," Pinkie said in a rare demonstration of her inside voice.

In that moment, Twilight noticed the white ring that sat upon the young foal's flank. She was at least eight years from a cutie mark. As if in anticipation, Spike rested his hand gently on Twilight's shoulder.

She turned away from the crib.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Fluttershy said, her voice barely above a whisper. Twilight didn't miss how Fluttershy had pushed up the foal's blanket with a wing just enough to cover the white ring. "All these changes, everything that's different now. But life goes on, Twilight. Love cannot stop. We cannot stop." She moved closer, her wing brushing Twilight's side. "Take it slow. Nopony expects you to adjust to everything at once. And…"

Don't blame yourself.

Twilight swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you, Fluttershy. Maybe... maybe we should head back downstairs?"

They descended the stairs in silence, each step feeling heavier than the last to Twilight. The old wood creaked beneath their hooves as they made their way back to the kitchen table. Applejack remained in her chair, her expression solemn as she watched them return.

"Folks are gonna start wakin' up soon," Applejack said, her voice low and measured. "Our friends are gonna start arrivin'. I reckon things are gonna get mighty busy before the day's out. Might be best if you get this conversation out of the way first, Twilight."

Twilight's brow furrowed. "What?"

Applejack's hoof pointed toward the window, directing Twilight's attention to the southern orchard. The sickly light cast long shadows through the trees, and something about the casual, almost dismissive, point of her hoof made Twilight's chest tighten.

Applejack let her hoof drop back to the table. "He's just out there."

Twilight only needed a moment before understanding crashed over her like a wave.

Solaire.

Her mind traced the white ring where her cutie mark should have been.

"How long has he been waiting?" Twilight asked.

"Long enough," Applejack replied and stood from her chair. "C'mon. I'll take you down."

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 11 - You're Still You

Twilight's hooves crunched against the gravel path as she followed Applejack toward the southern orchard. A tall grey stone wall loomed ahead and stretched down both left and right, curving inward ever so slightly as if they were seeing just a small fraction of what would have been a large stone circle. Her horn tingled as they approached, detecting traces of ancient magic woven into the weathered stone. Up ahead at their path's termination was a small wooden gate.

"What is this?" Twilight asked.

"Can't say I understand it myself," Applejack said. "Was just here one day and Luna said to watch him."

Applejack side-eyed her for a moment just as they arrived at the gate. Her hoof lingered on the gate's handle before pushing it open. They both entered.

Twilight felt the air change. A heavy weight pressed against her coat, thick with magical energy that made her mane stand on end. The illusion Pinkie had cast melted away, revealing Twilight's true grey and emaciated form. Inside the barrier an eternal night sky reigned. The sickly sun that hung over Sweet Apple Acres had vanished, replaced by a beautiful canvas of dark blues and purples, light blue cotton candy clouds, and a million shining stars like gemstones dotted the sky in brilliant, effervescent clusters. A full moon of the purest of whites sat massive in the sky directly above them.

They walked in silence down the path until a small cottage came into view through the trees. Its wooden walls were weathered but well-maintained, with warm light spilling from the windows. A thin trail of smoke curled from the stone chimney.

"I'll leave you to it," Applejack said. She offered Twilight a small smile before turning back toward the gate. If she had any disgust for Twilight's form, Applejack made no show of it. Her hoofsteps faded into the darkness, leaving Twilight alone.

The cottage was simple but homey - a single story with a slanted roof and a small covered porch. Flower boxes hung from the windows, though the plants inside were withered. A stack of firewood leaned against one wall, neatly arranged.

Twilight watched as the door creaked open and a familiar figure stepped out onto the porch. The man wore simple clothes - a loose white shirt and brown trousers - so different from the armor she remembered. She drew in a sharp breath when she noticed that his skin was mottled and his head bare. Where there should have been eyes were two black pits. Just as this place had stripped her disguise, perhaps his true nature was revealed as well.

An Undead. A cursed one.

Just like her.

Solaire looked up at the night sky, the moonlight reflecting from a nearby pond dancing across his form. He stepped off the porch and towards the pond before stopping in the grass in the middle of the clearing. He hadn't noticed her yet, standing frozen on the path.

“Hello?” Twilight finally managed.

Solaire stiffened at the voice. He turned his head her direction and stared, unmoving.

"Solaire?" Twilight tried again. Her voice resonated with an eerie reverberation throughout the clearing.

After several seconds, the man turned away and looked to the ground, his face lost in the shadows.

"Twilight Sparkle," he finally said. "I suppose after all this time I would have known what to say. I knew this day was coming, and yet…"

He looked towards her. "The words never came on how I could even begin to apologize to you."

She stared back at him, something bubbling deep in her chest.

"Well. You can at least try."

****

The two sat on opposite ends of the porch, both staring out at the silver waters of the pond. Neither had spoken for nearly five minutes.

"I am sorry," Solaire said from out of nowhere.

The pot of boiling ichor in Twilight's chest spilled over.

"What, that's all you've got? An 'I'm sorry,'?" She wrinkled her nose. "First of all you just let me die, and then proceed to curse my corpse, like… like I wanted it? Look, I get it. It was the heat of the moment, you didn't know what you were doing, but seriously. I was curious about the curse but not enough for all this."

"Was I supposed to just let you die?"

"Yes!" Twilight screamed. "That would have preferable, yes."

Solaire remained silent as Twilight shook her head.

"I can't believe I'm having to have this conversation. I don't know, Solaire. I don't have even the foggiest of what's going on with me and frankly, seeing you here looking as clueless as I am isn't exactly doing a lot to calm my nerves."

The words had come forth like venom and by the time she had bit her tongue, it was already too late.

She winced in the silence.

"I accept your anger completely," said Solaire. "In fact I may be more angry with myself than you. Miss Sparkle, Heap on me your coals to your heart's desire. And please remember this feeling. It may be an anchor for you in the future."

Twilight glanced his way. "What do you mean?"

"The emotions will keep you here. As will a purpose. The curse of the Undead will seek to consume your very being but you cannot let it. Bolster yourself with these things as they are your first and last lines of defense against it."

"I don't understand."

"Never stop feeling," Solaire said. "And always keep pushing forward. I have told this to the others as well. The curse will take root in the nothingness, and you will never reclaim it back."

"How did it even spread to them?" Twilight asked. "You put it inside of me."

"The nature of the curse eludes even me. Back then it was merely a tool for me to accomplish my mission. But with every day that passes, I become a little more aware of its importance. Even after all this time, I can barely control it beyond minor manipulations. All this is to say that I do not know, Twilight Sparkle. Like water attempting to fill a boundless container, perhaps it is merely in its nature to spread."

"Like a virus."

Solaire turned to look at her.

"And I was the curse's first host," Twilight continued, her mind racing. "It learned to spread to other ponies because of me. It would never have jumped to us if you hadn't—"

"Twilight—"

"It doesn't make sense," she whispered.

She thought of her friends and the countless number of ponies she had already encountered - all with the white rings around their cutie marks. Even baby Ambrosia, despite having no cutie mark of her own yet, bore the curse's mark. Twilight considered the implications of this. If the curse was feeding on the soul, and the cutie mark was the soul's physical manifestation on a pony's body, then what did it mean for Twilight, who had no cutie mark at all, who had been cursed only after she had died?

After losing my soul.

"What am I?" Twilight asked. She looked down at her grey, spindly legs.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Twilight's hooves trembled against the wooden porch as her breath came in short, sharp gasps. The darkness inside her chest writhed and pulsed, feeding off her growing panic.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

Her reflection in the pond caught her eye - a gaunt, grey thing with hollow cheeks and dead eyes.

"I died," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I actually died. And whatever came back... whatever I am now..."

The darkness surged, threatening to consume her. She could feel it pressing against the edges of her consciousness, eager to fill the void where her soul should be. Her horn flickered with an oily black light.

Solaire reached for her, but Twilight stumbled backward, knocking over a chair.

"Don't touch me!" Her voice came out distorted. "I'm not... I can't..."

The wooden planks beneath her hooves began to frost over as her magic leaked out uncontrolled. She saw her breath misting in front of her face despite the warm evening air. The darkness inside her chest felt like it was trying to claw its way out.

"Miss Sparkle—"

"Stop calling me that!" Twilight's legs gave out and she collapsed, shaking. "I'm not her. I'm not—"

Time stopped. Solaire stood frozen in time, his desiccated hand reaching out toward her and his face locked and mouth open in mid-word. There was no breeze. Falling leaves hung suspended in the air, and the fireflies that had danced to and fro now remained as miniature stars above the surface the pond.

A ripple crossed the pond's surface as Princess Luna emerged from the moon's reflection, her ethereal mane flowing like starlit silk. The princess's horn glowed with a soft blue light that enveloped Twilight, soothing the chaos in her mind and quieting the darkness that threatened to consume her.

"Be still, dear one," Luna whispered, her magic wrapping around Twilight like a warm blanket. "Let me help you understand."

The frost receded from the wooden planks as Twilight's breathing steadied. Luna's presence anchored her, pushing back the void that had nearly swallowed her whole.

Luna's form towered above them, her starlit mane casting rippling shadows across the porch. Her eyes held an ancient weight as she gazed between Twilight and Solaire - not with judgment, but with a deep, knowing sadness that made Twilight's chest tighten. The princess's horn still glowed with that calming blue light, though her expression remained carefully neutral.

Twilight's initial relief at Luna's intervention crumbled as reality sank in. The princess had been watching. For how long? The thought of Luna lurking in the reflection of that pond, silently observing her breakdown, sent a fresh wave of humiliation through her body.

"You were here the whole time," Twilight said. The darkness in her chest churned with betrayal, pressing against Luna's soothing magic. "Watching me... watching us..."

Luna's ethereal mane shifted like cosmic winds as she turned her full attention to Twilight. The motion reminded Twilight of the void she'd emerged from - that endless dark where she'd pieced herself back together. The question burned in her throat.

"How much of me did you create?" Twilight asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. "How much is real and how much is just…"

The darkness pulsed again, stronger this time, feeding off her rising anger and confusion. She could feel it trying to reach past Luna's magic, trying to consume her uncertainty and replace it with raw, primal emotion. But she needed answers more than she needed that release.

Luna's gaze softened, but her words cut through Twilight like a blade.

"You are an amalgamation of memories, Twilight Sparkle. Gathered from everypony who knew you best. I drew from your own mind as well. What fragments I could gather—"

"From a corpse," Twilight spat.

"Yes," Luna said. "From your body. I… you must understand how long we waited, Twilight. For any kind of sign from you. We studied everything that we could, from Solaire's own words to our own curses that we now carried. We had come to the conclusion that the curse needs a soul to latch on to. Otherwise, it is just innate. A dark without a reference to light. You were empty, Twilight."

With iron in her heart, Twilight considered the princess's words.

"You constructed an artificial soul for the curse to be housed inside. And you used my memories as the walls."

Her memories.

"I'm just a ghost of her shadow," Twilight whispered.

"I do not believe that," Luna said. "You are Twilight Sparkle. You have her memories. You have her personality. And furthermore, you have her heart. You are that same pony who gathered to her strangers and formed a bond with the very Elements that make up the world. You are still the same pony that rescued me from the Nightmare. Just in a different configuration."

Twilight let her gaze wander to the floor. "But you don't know. You don't know exactly what I am."

"This is beyond all of our comprehensions, Twilight. Everything changed the night you died."

Twilight flicked her gaze to the knight frozen in time. "Does he know?"

"No."

"What about my friends? Did they help you do this?"

Luna shut her eyes and looked at her once more with a small frown. "They do not know the extent of my actions. Only that I would be checking their dreams and memories for glimpses of you. They only knew that it would help."

"And my parents?"

"I went to them first."

"And what about Spike?"

Luna considered her for a long moment.

"He is the one who suggested it."

Twilight stared back at the princess.

"I see."

"He needed you back more than anyone. A day didn't go by where he wasn't at your side."

She almost didn't hear her. The numbness spread through Twilight's limbs like ice water in her veins. Her mind, usually racing with thoughts and analyses, felt oddly still. No cutie mark. No soul. Just a loose connection of thoughts and memories stitched together with dark magic, animated by something ancient and hungry. The weight of Luna's words pressed down on her, yet she couldn't summon the appropriate emotional response. Should she feel betrayed? Grateful? Angry? The emotions refused to come.

She stared at her hooves, grey and thin like a stranger's. Everything she thought she knew about herself had been carefully constructed - memories stitched together like patches in a quilt, each one borrowed from someone else's mind. Even Spike, her most trusted friend, had helped weave this tapestry of artificial identity.

The darkness in her chest remained quiet, as if observing her reaction. For once, she didn't fight its presence. Perhaps it was the only genuine part of her - this ancient, hungry thing that had taken residence where her soul should be.

She thought of all the conversations she'd had since waking up, all the tears she'd shed, all the guilt she'd felt. Were those reactions truly hers, or just echoes of what the real Twilight would have done? The line between authentic and artificial blurred until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Her gaze drifted to Solaire's frozen form. Even he, in his cursed state, was more real than she was. At least he knew what he had been before.

The strangest part was how little any of it seemed to matter. The revelation should have shattered her, but instead she felt disconnected from it all, as if watching events unfold from a great distance. Maybe this numbness was her true self showing through - not Twilight Sparkle at all, but something else wearing her memories like a mask.

"So what's next?" Twilight asked. "You have me back. What now?"

Twilight didn't miss the almost imperceptible wince that Luna gave.

"That is entirely up to you, Twilight. You know what the stakes are. You know what we are up against. If you wish to remain here in peace with your friends then you are free to do so. If you wish to return with me to Canterlot, we would welcome you with open hooves to our school. Your friends, particularly Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy, have all excelled in their mastery of the soul arts."

"Yeah, I know."

"Ah." Luna stepped toward Twilight on slow legs. She stopped just out of hoof's reach and sat down in the grass at the base of the porch. Twilight looked down at the princess, unfeeling.

"But…" Luna swallowed. "Know this, Twilight. I do not ask this of you lightly. If by some chance you wish to go with Solaire and retrieve the medicine that could cure my sister, I—"

"You are asking me to go to the other world?"

Twilight stared at Luna with hollow eyes. Of course they wanted her to go to Lordran. The realization settled over her like a shroud - not with shock or anger, but with a cold certainty. She had suspected it from the moment she learned of Celestia's condition.

The darkness in her chest stirred, but not with the earlier chaos. Instead, it pulsed with something that felt almost like... purpose.

What did she have to lose? She wasn't even real - just a patchwork of memories animated by an ancient darkness. Her friends had moved on. Her family had grieved. The real Twilight Sparkle was gone, her soul stolen by Adria.

Adria.

The name sent a ripple through the darkness inside her. The being who had ripped away her soul, who had left her an empty shell for Luna to fill with borrowed memories. The thought of confronting her again should have terrified her, but instead, Twilight felt only a crystalline clarity.

She would go to Lordran. She would find the cure for Celestia. And if she crossed paths with Adria...

The darkness hummed with anticipation, and for once, Twilight didn't try to suppress it. Let it feed on her determination. Let it fuel her purpose. She would reclaim what was stolen from her, or cease to exist in the attempt. Either way, she had nothing left to lose.

"When do we leave?" Twilight voiced, steady and cold.

****

The air rippled as Luna had released her hold on time. Twilight nodded a curt goodbye to Solaire and Luna and started toward the barrier's edge. The eternal night sky above faded as she pulled open the wooden gate and crossed the threshold. She looked up at the dim glow of Celestia's weakening sun.

Her disguise settled back over her form like a second skin, masking the grey pallor of her coat. She didn't bother checking her reflection anymore. The illusion was perfect, but still just a facade - a mask crafted from the memories of one of her friends. Another reminder of what she wasn't.

The conversation with Solaire and Luna played over in her mind, each word cutting deeper than the last. Her magic - or whatever passed for it now - crackled beneath her horn, responding to the anger she fought to contain.

She paused, taking a breath she didn't need. The simple act felt wrong, mechanical. Everything felt wrong. She wasn't the pony who had given that lecture at the school. She wasn't even the one who had died in the palace. She was... memories. Pieces stitched together by Luna's magic, given form by the love of her friends, and wrapped up in the neat little container that was the body of someone she thought she was.

She wasn't real.

The thought made her want to scream. To rage at Solaire for his part in this curse, at Luna for bringing her back this way, at herself - or whatever version of herself had started all this with that damned soul crystal experiment.

But she couldn't. Not here, not now. The anger threatened to overwhelm her carefully maintained composure. She had left the barrier at the right moment - any longer and she might have said things she'd regret. Or worse, done things that would only prove how far she'd fallen from the pony she used to be.

Her gaze drifted to the patch of grass beside the path. A cluster of daisies swayed in the breeze, their petals reaching toward Celestia's fading sun. She remembered studying flowers like these, documenting their growth patterns, their magical properties. But were those her memories, or just echoes of what others remembered about her?

The gravel crunched beneath her hooves as she made her way down the path. She'd barely taken two steps past the gate when a dark shape dropped from above, landing with practiced precision on the dirt road ahead.

Rainbow Dash stood before her, clad in a fitted black flight suit that had seen better days. Her rainbow mane was pulled back in a tight tail, practical rather than stylish. Dark circles ringed her eyes though she stood tall and firm.

"Hey," Rainbow said, her voice rough coming out rough as if she hadn't spoken in hours.

"Rainbow?" She peered at the pegasus.

Rainbow wore strange metal implements on her wings. The closer Twilight looked, the more she realized that they were modern takes on the ancient wingblades of old she had studied in her books.

"Heard you were back." Rainbow's voice carried a practiced casualness that didn't quite mask her tension.

"Yeah, something like that." Twilight kept her gaze fixed on the metal attachments on Rainbow's wings, avoiding eye contact. The edges gleamed with a deadly precision.

Rainbow gestured toward the southern orchard with a wing. "You spoke with him?"

"Luna was there too." Twilight's horn tingled with residual magic, an uncomfortable reminder of what she'd learned.

"So they filled you in?" Rainbow shifted her weight, the movement causing her wingblades to catch the dim sunlight.

Twilight let out a harsh laugh. "I thought I was 'filled in' back in Canterlot. But they just keep piling on more secrets, don't they?" The bitterness in her voice surprised even her. She hadn't meant to let that much slip.

Twilight took a moment to study her friend. The pegasus before her bore little resemblance to the brash, confident friend she remembered. This Rainbow moved with calculated precision, each shift of her weight deliberate and controlled. Though her frame was lithe, muscles rippled beneath her flight suit, honed from what Twilight could only assume was combat rather than sport.

The wingblades weren't just decorative additions - they were extensions of Rainbow's body, worn with the easy familiarity of someone who had spilled blood with them. Their edges caught what little sunlight filtered through the clouds, promising swift retribution to any who crossed their wielder.

But it was Rainbow's eyes that truly gave Twilight pause. Gone was the playful spark, replaced by something harder, colder. They scanned the surroundings with a practiced efficiency, never lingering too long in one spot. Even now as they spoke, Rainbow's gaze darted to check their perimeter every few seconds.

Her friend's entire demeanor radiated lethal capability. Rainbow stood perfectly balanced, ready to launch into action at the slightest provocation. Her wings, though folded, twitched occasionally - not from nervousness, but from the ingrained instinct of a pegasus warrior anticipating threats from any direction.

This wasn't the Rainbow who performed sonic rainbooms for cheering crowds. This was a soldier, tempered by years of warfare. Someone who had learned to channel her natural speed and agility into something far more deadly.

The realization sent a chill through Twilight. She had known things had changed, but seeing the transformation in Rainbow Dash drove home just how much the world had shifted in her absence.

Unexpectedly, Rainbow's expression softened. She looked Twilight over, concern in her eyes. "But how are you, Twilight? How are you handling this so far? It can’t be easy. Just know that you can lean on us, okay?”

The unexpected gentleness in Rainbow's voice caught Twilight off guard. Beneath the hardened exterior and deadly wingblades, traces of her old friend still lingered. The concern in those battle-worn eyes was genuine, untouched by the years of combat that had reshaped everything else about her.

"I don't know," Twilight admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything's happening so fast. Luna, Solaire, this curse..." She shook her head. "I haven't had time to process any of it. Could take years before I come to terms with what I am now."

Rainbow's expression shifted, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. "Yeah. Some things you never really come to terms with. You just learn to carry them."

The weight of unspoken experience hung heavy in Rainbow's words. Twilight studied her friend's face, noting the traces of pale scars, the tight lines around her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"How are you, Rainbow? How is everyone else?" Twilight asked, dreading the answer but needing to know.

Rainbow's wings twitched, the blades catching the dim sunlight. "Haven't been back here in two years, actually. Had a... disagreement with AJ." She kicked at the dirt with a hoof. "Things got heated. Words were said. Been keeping my head down leading the aerial defense corps since then."

"Two years?" Twilight's ears flattened against her head. Aerial defense corps?

"Yeah." Rainbow glanced toward the farmhouse, her expression unreadable. "Strange being back. Everything looks the same, but different, you know? How's Spike doing?" Rainbow shifted her weight, the question coming out forced and stilted.

"He's probably inside with the others," Twilight said, gesturing toward the farmhouse. The sudden change in Rainbow's demeanor caught her attention. The pegasus's shoulders had tensed, her wings pulling tight against her sides.

"Right. Yeah." Rainbow's gaze drifted past Twilight toward the house, then quickly darted away. "AJ's probably getting breakfast ready?"

"She mentioned something about it, yes." Twilight watched as Rainbow's expression closed off, the earlier warmth vanishing behind a carefully neutral mask.

Rainbow took a step back, her hooves scuffing against the dirt path. "Think I'm gonna head into Ponyville for a bit. Been too long since I've seen the place." She rolled her shoulders, the wingblades catching the light. "Want to see what's changed, you know?"

"Do you want company?" Twilight offered, though she already knew the answer from the way Rainbow's body angled away from the farmhouse.

"Nah, I'll be back in a couple hours." Rainbow's wings spread, the metal attachments gleaming. "Just need to check some things out."

Before Twilight could respond, Rainbow launched herself skyward, her powerful wings carrying her away from Sweet Apple Acres with practiced efficiency. Twilight watched her friend's retreating form, noting how Rainbow's flight path deliberately curved to avoid passing near the farmhouse.

There was more happening here than a simple falling out between friends. The way Rainbow had tensed at the mention of breakfast, her careful avoidance of the house, the sudden need to leave - it all pointed to something deeper.

Twilight turned toward the farmhouse, her mind churning with questions about Rainbow's abrupt departure. A rustling from the apple trees caught her attention. A grey earth pony mare emerged, struggling with an overloaded basket of apples balanced precariously on her back.

The mare froze mid-step when she spotted Twilight. Her eyes widened with recognition.

The face tugged at Twilight's memories - something about a harvest festival in Appleloosa. One of Applejack's countless cousins, perhaps? The mare's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before words tumbled out in a rush.

"Miss... Miss Twilight? But you... they said..." The basket tilted dangerously as the mare took an unsteady step backward.

Twilight kept walking, fixing her gaze on the farmhouse ahead. She didn't have time for this. The mare's continued stammering faded behind her as Twilight picked up her pace, gravel crunching beneath her hooves.

Whatever had driven Rainbow and Applejack apart must have been severe. Rainbow Dash wouldn't avoid an old friend over a simple argument. And the way she'd tensed at the mention of breakfast, as if the mere thought of sharing a meal with Applejack was unbearable...

Twilight's horn tingled with suppressed magic as she approached the farmhouse. She needed answers.

****

Twilight pushed through the side door of the farmhouse, stepping into the dimly lit hallway. Her hooves had barely touched the wooden floor when she spotted Spike, leaning against the wall just beside the entrance. His arms were crossed, face set in an uncharacteristically serious expression.

The sight of him lurking there sent a surge of anger through her chest. After everything she'd learned in the southern orchard about her revival, about what he'd done...

"Were you spying on me?" Her voice came out sharp, echoing in the narrow space.

"Yeah." Spike didn't even try to deny it, meeting her gaze.

Twilight's horn flickered with suppressed magic, her anger threatening to boil over. The temptation to unleash it, to really tear into him about the truth of her existence, about how he'd helped piece her together from others' memories like some kind of patchwork doll...

She drew in a deep breath, the floorboards creaking beneath her hooves as she shifted her weight. The darkness within her stirred, feeding on her anger, urging her to give voice to the betrayal she felt.

Her oldest friend, her assistant, had participated in this deception. Had watched her struggle with questions about her identity while knowing the truth all along.

Twilight's anger faltered as she truly looked at Spike. Gone was the baby dragon who'd once needed her help reaching books on high shelves. In his place stood a dragon nearing adulthood, his violet scales dulled by time and hardship. Yet his eyes - those remained the same, bright with an intelligence that had always set him apart.

Her horn's glow faded. The darkness inside her settled, giving way to a familiar warmth. This was Spike. Whatever his reasons, she knew in her reconstructed heart that he'd never act to harm her.

"Why didn't you tell me from the start?" The question emerged softer than she'd intended. "About what I really am?"

Spike uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing slightly. "We weren't sure it would work. The ritual to bring you back - to create a new soul that could contain both your memories and the curse - it was experimental. Luna thought if we told you immediately, the shock might destabilize everything."

Twilight stepped closer, studying the worry lines etched around his eyes. How many nights had he spent watching over her, carrying this secret?

"The questions in the hospital room," Twilight said, the memory of Luna's intense gaze and Spike's note-taking suddenly taking on new meaning. "When you both kept asking me about my past - that wasn't just to check my health, was it? You were making sure the memories... took?"

"Yeah." Spike's shoulders slumped. "We needed to know if everything transferred correctly. If you remembered things the way others did, if the important moments were intact."

Twilight's stomach churned at the implications. Each memory she'd recounted - her acceptance into Celestia's school, her first friendship lessons, even her experiments with soul magic - had been carefully scrutinized against the accounts of others who'd known her.

"So when I couldn't remember certain things..." She trailed off, recalling the gaps in her memory that had frustrated her during their questioning.

"Those were probably moments no one else witnessed," Spike confirmed. "Or details that got lost because nopony remembered them clearly enough to contribute to the ritual."

The clinical nature of it all made her head spin. Her memories, the very foundation of who she was, had been pieced together like some complex spell formula. Each recollection tested and verified against external sources, gaps accepted as inevitable data loss.

"That's why you kept pushing me to elaborate on specific events," Twilight realized. "You weren't just refreshing my memory - you were comparing my version against whatever template you'd used to rebuild me."

"But after? When I started asking questions about my identity?"

"By then..." Spike's claws flexed unconsciously. "By then, you were you again. Different, maybe, but still Twilight. We were afraid of losing that - of losing you again.

Twilight watched as Spike rubbed his eyes, his claws dragging across scaled lids. The gesture revealed more than words could - the weight of secrets, the toll of vigilance. He slid down the wall to sit beside her on the wooden floor, his shoulders sagging.

"I'm tired, Twilight." His voice cracked. "Tired of keeping secrets from you. If any of this is going to work..." He gestured vaguely at the air between them. "We need to be on the same page."

The implications settled over her like a heavy blanket. Their mission to Lordran, the fate of Celestia, the curse spreading through Equestria - they didn't stand a chance if they couldn't trust each other completely. The world needed saving, and they couldn't afford the luxury of hidden truths.

"A lie of omission is still a lie." Spike's gaze dropped to the floor, his tail curling tight against his side. "You taught me better than that."

The words struck her heart. Despite everything - her artificial nature, her reconstructed memories - she had still been his teacher once. Had shaped his understanding of right and wrong. That part of their shared past remained real, regardless of how it had been preserved and transferred to her new existence.

Twilight stepped closer, wrapping her foreleg around his shoulders in a tight hug. She felt him stiffen for a moment before melting into the embrace, his scales warm against her coat.

"I forgive you," she whispered, meaning it.

Still holding Spike close, Twilight's voice wavered. "What do you see when you look at me now? Am I still the pony who helped hatch you? Or just... some kind of monster wearing her face?"

Spike pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "Really? You're worried about that?" A familiar warmth crept into his voice. "That's such a 'Twilight' thing to worry about."

"What do you mean?"

"Only you would return from the dead and immediately start questioning the philosophical implications." He shook his head, a ghost of his old smile playing across his features. "You're still you, Twilight. Different maybe, but the core of who you are? That hasn't changed."

The embrace ended naturally, both of them shifting to sit more comfortably against the wall. Something inside Twilight's chest loosened - a knot of tension she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. Whatever else had changed, whatever other uncertainties plagued her, Spike remained her constant. Her anchor.

As long as he believed in her, maybe things would work out.

Twilight's gaze drifted toward the window and looked out at the spot of sky that Rainbow Dash disappeared into. The way she'd avoided the farmhouse entirely...

"Spike?" Twilight turned back to her oldest friend. "What happened between Applejack and Rainbow Dash? They used to be so close, but now..."

"I saw you talking with Rainbow outside," Spike said, his eyes fixing on a framed photograph hanging on the wall. The picture showed the Apple family gathered around their barn - Big Mac, Apple Bloom, Granny Smith, and Applejack all smiling beneath the summer sun. A moment frozen in happier times.

"What happened between them?" Twilight pressed, noting how Spike's expression became unreadable, scales tensing around his jaw.

"They started prioritizing different things." Spike's claw traced the edge of the frame, adjusting it slightly though it hung perfectly straight. "Rainbow wanted to keep fighting, wanted everypony to stay focused on the bigger threats. But Applejack..." He paused, dropping his claw. "She'd seen enough death. Wanted to focus on protecting what was left, building something sustainable here at the farm."

The tension in his voice made Twilight's ears prick forward. "And?"

"It exploded one night during our monthly meetings. The things they said to each other..." Spike shook his head, still staring at the photograph. "We stopped the meetings after that."

The words hung heavy in the air between them.

Heavy hoofsteps echoed down the hall, drawing Twilight's attention from their conversation. Big Macintosh rounded the corner, his red coat dulled by the hallway's shadows. His mane stuck up at odd angles, clear evidence of a recent awakening. A jagged scar carved across his left eye, the fur there growing in patches of white against the red. As he shifted his weight, Twilight noticed the slight hesitation in his movement - a limp that hadn't been there five years ago. The white ring encircled the large green apple on his flank.

Despite the changes, his gentle smile remained the same. "Thought I heard y'all talking out here."

"Morning, Big Mac." Spike's scales rustled as he pushed himself up from the floor.

"How's the baby doing?" Spike asked, offering Twilight a hoof up.

"Fluttershy's got her this morning." Big Mac's voice carried the same quiet strength it always had, though he spoke more than Twilight remembered. He turned back down the hall, favoring his right side as he walked. "Haycakes are almost ready."

Twilight followed behind him toward the kitchen, watching the subtle adjustments in his gait. Each step seemed carefully measured, as if each step pained him.

As they approached the kitchen, Big Mac's deep voice rumbled, "Rarity just came in."

Twilight's ears perked at the sound of familiar voices drifting from the kitchen. Fluttershy's soft tones mixed with Rarity's elegant accent, both of them focused on baby Ambrosia.

"Come now darling, can you say 'Aunty'?" Rarity's voice coaxed gently.

After several attempts, a tiny voice managed, "Aunty!"

Twilight rounded the corner behind Big Mac and froze. The kitchen was warm and bright, sunlight streaming through the windows. Fluttershy sat at the table, cradling Ambrosia in her forelegs. Beside her stood Rarity, wearing a grey wool cloak fastened with a brooch bearing Luna's cutie mark. Her signature purple mane had changed - the careful curls replaced by a simpler, more practical style. She still wore her saddlebags and her hooves bore the dirt of travel.

Rarity's eyes widened as she set her eyes on Twilight, shock flashing across her features for just a moment before melting into a warm smile. Before Twilight could react, Rarity crossed the room and pulled her into a tight embrace.

When Rarity stepped back, her eyes swept over Twilight's form, examining the disguise Pinkie had crafted. Twilight's stomach churned under the scrutiny. Would Rarity still smile so warmly if she could see what lay beneath the illusion? If she knew the truth about her undead form?

"You look good, darling," Rarity declared, her smile never wavering.

Twilight studied Rarity more carefully, noting the changes five years had wrought. The fashionista's once-plump cheeks had hollowed, giving her face a sharper, more angular appearance. Her frame, previously soft and elegant, now bore the lean muscle of someone accustomed to physical activity. The meticulously applied makeup she'd once refused to leave home without had been replaced by a natural look - just enough to accent her features without drawing attention.

The grey wool cloak hung from her shoulders in practical folds, secured by the moonlit brooch at her throat. The fabric, while well-made, lacked the elaborate embellishments and dramatic flair that had once defined Rarity's signature style. No gems sparkled along its hem, no delicate embroidery traced patterns across its surface. It was a garment meant for utility rather than beauty - something the old Rarity would have dismissed as "dreadfully pedestrian."

Yet there was still an inherent grace to how she wore it, the way it draped around her form speaking to her eye for detail. Even in simplicity, Rarity managed to find elegance.

The sight of that plain cloak told Twilight more about how their world had changed than any words could have conveyed. If Rarity, who had once fainted at the mere suggestion of wearing something "off the rack," now chose function over fashion, then truly nothing remained untouched by the passage of time.

The sizzle of haycakes on the griddle drew Twilight's attention to Applejack, who worked with practiced efficiency at the stove. Her movements were precise, each flip of the spatula timed perfectly. The scent of fresh hay and warm butter filled the kitchen.

"Alright y'all, grab a chair and dig in." Applejack balanced a towering plate of golden-brown haycakes, setting it in the center of the worn wooden table.

"Is Pinkie here?" Rarity turned to Applejack, levitating a haycake onto her plate. "I noticed her saddlebags in the hall."

"Yeah, she's taking a nap upstairs." Applejack flipped another cake onto the serving plate. "Been up since dawn making deliveries. And whatever else it is that she does."

Twilight's ears twitched at that. Dawn. The word carried new weight now that she understood what had happened to Equestria's sun. Her gaze drifted to the window where Celestia's weakened light streamed in, eternally fixed above Canterlot.

The implications hit her like a physical force. How did ponies manage their daily rhythms without the natural cycle of day and night? The sun's position never changed, never set, yet clearly her friends had adapted some form of schedule. Pinkie napping in broad daylight, others working through what should have been night - their entire civilization must have been forced to reorganize around this unnatural stasis.

No wonder the kitchen had heavy curtains drawn across half its windows, creating artificial darkness. The constant sunlight would drive anypony mad without some way to simulate night's darkness. Even now, Twilight noticed how her friends positioned themselves away from the direct light, seeking the comfort of shadows.

Twilight watched as her friends settled into their seats, the familiar chaos of passing plates and pouring syrup washing over her. Fluttershy bounced Ambrosia gently on her back while Big Mac cut her haycake into tiny pieces. Rarity dabbed her napkin with practiced grace before taking her first bite. Spike reached across the table for seconds, his longer arms easily spanning the distance.

The scene before her felt both strange and wonderfully familiar. Yes, Fluttershy was now a mother. Yes, Spike had grown from a baby dragon into something approaching adulthood. Yes, they all bore the marks of time's passage. But watching them share breakfast, seeing their easy smiles and hearing their gentle teasing - it sparked something warm in Twilight's chest.

These changes hadn't destroyed what made them family. If anything, the bonds between them seemed stronger for having weathered so much together.

Applejack approached with a plate loaded with fresh haycakes, steam still rising from their surface. "Here ya go, Twilight. Sorry we couldn't fix up somethin' fancier. Wasn't exactly expectin' company this morning."

Twilight stared at the steaming plate before her, anxiety gnawing at her stomach. The haycakes glistened with melting butter, but a troubling thought crossed her mind - she'd never once seen Solaire eat during his time in Equestria. As an undead, did she even need food anymore? Could she still taste it?

Around her, her friends dove into their breakfast with enthusiasm. The scrape of forks against plates and quiet murmurs of appreciation filled the kitchen. Her own plate remained untouched, drawing concerned glances from Fluttershy.

Twilight's eyes darted to Spike. He met her gaze and gave a subtle nod, his expression reassuring. Of course he would know if undead could eat, having spent so much time with Solaire in that magical barrier.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight lifted a small piece of haycake to her mouth. The first bite flooded her senses with warmth and sweetness, so achingly familiar that tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. It tasted exactly as she remembered - the subtle notes of hay, the richness of butter, the slight crispness of the edges giving way to fluffy interior.

Her gaze drifted to the window, toward the southern orchard where she knew Solaire's barrier stood.

"Is Solaire going to join us?" Twilight's voice came out hesitant, uncertain.

The kitchen fell silent at Twilight's question. She glanced around at her friends, noting their careful expressions and the way they avoided meeting her eyes.

Fluttershy set down her fork, her wings rustling softly. "He chooses to remain in there these days." Her voice carried its familiar gentleness, though tinged with a touch of sadness. "I imagine he feels guilty for how his actions have had such dire consequences."

The group returned to their meal, the only sounds the quiet clink of silverware against plates and Ambrosia's occasional happy gurgle. Twilight pushed a piece of haycake around her plate, considering Fluttershy's words.

The weight of responsibility, the crushing knowledge that her choices had affected countless lives - Twilight knew that feeling intimately. Every pony she'd passed in Canterlot's streets, every refugee seeking shelter in Ponyville, every friend bearing the mark of the curse - she'd blamed herself for their suffering. How much heavier must that burden feel for Solaire, trapped behind his magical barrier, watching as his mere presence caused such a cascade of cataclysm throughout a world that wasn't even his?

"At any rate," Rarity broke through the quiet, speaking with studied nonchalance while wiping her lips with her serviette. "It's better that nopony catches sight of him regardless." She placed her napkin with careful precision next to her dish. "The world believes he is gone, after all."

"What do you mean?" Twilight's fork clattered against her plate.

Rarity's expression darkened. "Those first few months after the gala..." She traced the edge of her plate with a hoof. "Canterlot descended into chaos. The nobility, they demanded retribution. Someone had to be held accountable for what happened to Princess Celestia and for all the ponies that had died that night."

Twilight's stomach churned as Rarity continued, her elegant voice stripped of its usual flourish. "With the sun frozen above Canterlot, panic spread. The nobles turned on anyone they could blame."

The kitchen grew still, even little Ambrosia seeming to sense the weight of the moment. Fluttershy pulled her daughter closer, while Big Mac's expression hardened.

"Solaire..." Rarity's hoof brushed against Luna's cutie mark on her brooch. "He couldn't escape the city in time. Nor do I believe that he even tried to escape. Princess Luna tried to protect him, but even she couldn't shield him from their bloodlust. Not with everything else happening."

The words hung heavy in the air, each one striking Twilight like a physical blow. She thought of Solaire, trapped by choice in that barrier, carrying not just the weight of his own world's curse but the burden of Equestria's suffering as well.

"But Luna..." Twilight's voice cracked. "She's a Princess. Surely she could have-"

"Luna's authority meant little to them," Rarity cut in, her elegant accent taking on a bitter edge. "Without Celestia's public support, the nobility viewed her as..." She paused, searching for the right words. "Well, as something of an outsider. They never truly accepted her return from exile."

Twilight's stomach twisted. "But who led the opposition?"

"Prince Blueblood." Rarity's lip curled in disgust. "He saw an opportunity and seized it. Started rallying the other nobles, speaking at emergency meetings of the court. He claimed Solaire needed to be..." She swallowed hard. "To be interrogated. Studied. Dissected if necessary."

"Dissected?" Twilight's voice came out as barely more than a whisper.

"He convinced them it was the only way to prevent more of those red ghosts from appearing." Rarity's hoof traced the rim of her teacup. "He said they needed to understand how Solaire's kind worked, what made them different. The nobles ate it up - anything to feel like they had some control over the situation."

"They were scared," Fluttershy added softly, still cradling Ambrosia. "And scared ponies can be cruel."

"Blueblood kept saying that if we didn't act, more ponies would die like they did at the gala." Rarity's voice hardened. "He turned their fear into a weapon, wielding it against anyone who opposed him - even Luna herself."

Twilight nodded slowly, memories of her own interactions with Canterlot's elite surfacing. Growing up in a lesser noble family had taught her the intricacies of court politics - the subtle power plays, the alliances formed and broken over tea, the way reputation could make or break a pony's standing.

"But how did Solaire end up here at Sweet Apple Acres?" Twilight asked, pushing her half-eaten haycake aside.

Rarity set down her teacup with practiced grace. "Luna devised quite the clever plan, actually. She and Solaire arranged for him to stage an escape attempt." Her horn glowed briefly as she adjusted her cloak. "It culminated in this dramatic battle right in the palace courtyard - quite the spectacle, with dozens of nobles watching from their balconies."

"The plan was for Luna to use the Elements of Harmony to seal him in stone," Rarity continued matter-of-factly. "All a ruse, of course. We could never get the Elements to work while you were, ah… out of commission. But the public didn't need to know that. Princess Luna - quite the actress - was able to 'use' the Elements all on her own and seal the evil human in stone. Of course, as we both know that's not what happened in reality."

Twilight's ears perked forward. "The statue-"

"Hollow. Empty. And remains in Canterlot to this day. Though Blueblood refuses to disclose its exact location." Her lips curved into a satisfied smirk. "He was quite put out when his little research project was sealed away. I imagine if he knew the truth he would have us all deemed as traitors to Equestria."

"Things smoothed out after that," Spike added, gathering empty plates from the table. "Luna's stunt with the statue bought her enough credibility with the nobles that she could start building her own support base."

Twilight's eyes fixed on the brooch at Rarity's throat, the moonlit symbol catching the morning light. Something about it tugged at her memory - ancient texts she'd pored over during her studies, illustrations of ponies who'd served directly under Celestia in ages past.

"That brooch." Twilight tilted her head. "What does it mean?"

Applejack let out a dry chuckle. "Shoot, after all these years we still ain't sure exactly what it is Rarity does."

Rarity's expression remained carefully neutral as she adjusted the brooch with a delicate hoof. "I do what must be done, darling."

The simple statement carried weight that made Twilight's breath catch. She studied her friend with new understanding, remembering the detailed sketches from dusty historical volumes - similar brooches adorning the necks of legendary knights and court mages, marking them as the Princess' most trusted servants. Those ancient ponies had shaped the course of Equestrian history through both overt and subtle means, their actions rippling through generations.

The elegant unicorn before her was no longer just her fashion-obsessed friend. This Rarity had evolved into something far more complex - a player in games of power that Twilight was only beginning to comprehend.

"While the world changes, so must we," Rarity said, her voice carrying the weight of experience. She adjusted her cloak, eyes drifting to Applejack. "Speaking of change - are you and Rainbow Dash speaking again?"

Twilight watched Applejack's expression darken, her friend's shoulders tensing as she helped Spike collect the empty plates from the table. The clatter of dishes against the sink echoed through the suddenly quiet kitchen.

"For heaven's sake," Rarity huffed, rolling her eyes. "You two are supposed to be mature adults, not squabbling fillies in the schoolyard. This ridiculous feud has gone on long enough - surely you can both bury the hatchet?"

Applejack's hooves gripped the edge of the sink, her head bowed. "It ain't that easy, Rarity."

The words came out strained, each syllable carrying years of unspoken hurt. Twilight shifted uncomfortably in her seat, remembering Rainbow's hasty retreat from the farmhouse earlier. The pegasus had practically fled at the mere mention of breakfast here, as if the very thought of being under the same roof as Applejack caused her physical pain.

Twilight's gaze moved between her two friends - Rarity's exasperated concern and Applejack's rigid posture. Whatever had driven these two apart clearly ran deeper than a simple disagreement. The tension in the room felt thick enough to cut with a knife, weighted with years of history Twilight had missed during her absence.

Twilight watched Applejack's rigid posture at the sink, her friend's shoulders tense with unspoken weight. The silence stretched, broken only by the quiet clink of dishes. Taking a deep breath, Twilight decided to push past her hesitation.

"What happened between you two, AJ?"

The question hung in the air. Applejack's hooves stilled against the plate she'd been washing, water dripping steadily into the sink. Without turning around, she set the dish down with careful precision.

"Mac?" Applejack's voice came out steady, controlled. "Mind helpin' finish up here? Oh, and leave a plate out for Pinkie."

Big Mac moved from his spot near Fluttershy, giving a quiet "Eeyup" as he took his sister's place at the sink. Applejack dried her hooves methodically on a nearby towel, then walked out of the kitchen. Her hoofsteps echoed on the wooden stairs, each one deliberate and measured.

Twilight's ears drooped at the sound.

"We were strongest when we were together." Rarity's voice cut through the uncomfortable silence, her words tinged with sadness. She turned to meet Twilight's gaze, her blue eyes reflecting years of weathered determination. "Even in your absence, we made it work. We had no choice but to make it work."

"Rainbow Dash was just here," Twilight offered. "But she wouldn't come inside."

"She'll come along," Rarity said softly, moving to help Mac and Fluttershy with the cleanup. "In her own time."

Twilight sat back in her chair, considering Rarity's words. The weight of five years stretched between her friends like a chasm, filled with hurts and changes she was only beginning to understand.

****

Solaire slumped on the wooden porch, his desiccated hands cradling his head. The eternal night sky above cast long shadows across the weathered boards beneath his feet. Luna's presence in the grass remained steady, unwavering, like the stars that dotted his artificial sky.

"You should have let me talk to her," he said.

"She was losing control. I had no choice but to intervene." Luna's mane rippled with starlight, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of apples through the barrier.

The weight of countless encounters pressed against Solaire's mind - faces and voices of those he'd met in Lordran's twisted paths. Each one cursed, each one fighting their own battle against the darkness. The knight who'd forgotten his quest. The pyromancer trapped in the depths. The cleric who'd lost her faith.

Adria.

He'd felt their struggles, understood their pain, shared in their moments of clarity and despair.

But Twilight... The darkness within her pulled at him like nothing he'd encountered before. Where other cursed souls flickered like dying flames, hers roared like a black hole, threatening to devour everything in its path. When their eyes had met, he'd felt the void reaching for him, trying to drag him into its endless depths.

Solaire stared at his palms, the dried flesh a stark reminder of his own curse. But Twilight's affliction ran deeper than mere undeath. Her soul churned with something primal, raw - a darkness born of betrayal and loss that threatened to consume everything it touched. He'd faced countless cursed beings in Lordran, watched as they slowly succumbed to hollowing, their minds fraying thread by thread until nothing remained but empty shells driven by base instinct.

But this was different. When their gazes had met, he'd felt himself being pulled toward that infinite void within her. The rage, the fear, the desperate need to understand why - it all swirled together into a maelstrom that could drag even the strongest soul into oblivion.

He rose from the worn planks of the porch, his light clothing catching a breeze in the perpetual night air. Luna's eyes followed him, expectant.

"Pray tell, knight," Luna began. "Have you finally thought to end your seclusion here?"

Solaire turned to face her, taking in the careful craftsmanship of this sanctuary she'd built. The eternal stars above, the peaceful solitude, the barrier that kept the world at bay - all of it designed to give him a place to rest, to think, to maintain his sanity.

"It was you who built this for me," he said quietly.

Luna's mane rippled with starlight as she shook her head. "I never decreed that you had to stay inside."

He smiled and without another word, Solaire walked into the cabin.

Solaire's simple shoes creaked against the wooden floorboards as he moved through the cabin's modest interior. Five years of solitude had left their mark on every surface - each piece of furniture carved by his own hands during endless nights, each groove and imperfection a testament to hours spent learning the craft.

The bed sat in the corner, its sturdy frame built from apple wood freely given by the family whose land he now called home. The mattress, though worn, still held the same softness it had when Applejack's brother had hauled it through the barrier. Such a simple comfort, yet it had meant everything during those first difficult months.

His gaze drifted to the far side of the rough-hewn table, where his sword lay silent beside Luna's gift - the shield that had replaced his lost sun-emblazoned one. The gleaming surface caught the eternal starlight from the window, but it wasn't the same. His fingers traced the empty space on the table where his armor should have been, remembering the weight of his helm, the familiar press of steel against his shoulders. Those pieces of himself, long since confiscated and left behind in the chaos of his staged escape, had been more than mere protection - they were symbols of everything he'd stood for, everything he'd believed in.

The door creaked open behind him, Luna's presence filling the room like a cool evening breeze.

"What troubles you, Solaire?" Her voice carried the gentle concern of one who had watched over his isolation for half a decade.

He ran his hand along the shield's surface, feeling its smooth contours. "I find myself thinking of what was lost."

Solaire's fingers lingered on the shield's surface, memories of his old equipment weighing heavy in his mind.

"The sword and shield were all we could recover," Luna said, her voice carrying the weight of regret. "The rest was lost in the chaos."

The eternal stars cast shifting patterns across the cabin's wooden floor as Luna stepped closer. Her measured words fell between them. "The moment approaches, Solaire. The vow you swore to me cannot be delayed much longer - the time for your journey draws near."

His hand dropped from the shield, understanding flowing through him like a cold stream. The weight of his word, given freely in those early days of his sanctuary, had never truly left him. He nodded.

Luna's horn sparked with ethereal light.

"You'll require both might and protection for the path ahead," Luna declared. "I will not see you fail in the most critical moment after everything that we had to endure."

The air shimmered and twisted before him. From nothingness materialized a set of chainmail, its links gleaming in the starlight. Plated greaves and vambraces appeared alongside it, their surfaces unmarred by battle. A full helm followed, its polished surface catching the light of Luna's magic. He could feel the innate spells woven into the metals' surfaces.

But what drew Solaire's attention was the surcoat. Unlike his old one, worn proudly with the sun emblem of Astora, this one bore no markings at all. The white fabric hung pristine and empty, waiting for meaning to be drawn into its surface.

His hand reached out, brushing against the chainmail. The metal felt cool beneath his touch, solid and real despite its magical appearance. Each piece spoke of careful craftsmanship and spellwork.

He then traced the unmarked fabric of the surcoat, its pristine white surface catching the starlight streaming in from the window. The weight of Luna's gift settled around him - armor crafted with clear purpose and consideration.

"I am grateful for this gift, Princess Luna." He bowed his head. "But I must ask - why leave the surcoat without mark or symbol?"

Luna's mane rippled as she turned her gaze to the empty fabric. "I did not wish to take liberties with such a personal choice. Your previous emblem held great meaning to you."

The memory of his old sun-emblazoned surcoat flickered through Solaire's mind - the symbol of everything he'd once believed, everything he'd fought for in Lordran. But that had been before. Before Adria's betrayal, before finding sanctuary in this strange land of talking ponies, before spending five years under Luna's protection.

"Have I not served you all this time?" Solaire asked, his voice quiet but steady. "These years within your barrier, under your stars?"

Luna's ears twitched at his words, her expression shifting with subtle surprise.

Solaire traced his fingers along the pristine white fabric one final time. The choice felt as clear as the eternal stars above them - stars that had watched over him, guided him, kept him sane through five years of isolation.

"It is only right that I bear your mark," he said, his voice steady with conviction. "If you will allow me to wear it."

Luna's eyes widened slightly, her starlit mane flowing in an unseen breeze as she considered him. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the gentle creaking of wooden boards beneath their feet.

Her horn sparked with renewed magic, casting dancing shadows across the cabin walls. The white fabric shimmered, its surface rippling like water beneath moonlight. Deep royal blue bled through the material, rich as the night sky itself. In its center, Luna's cutie mark manifested - the crescent moon against a field of darkness, each detail precise and perfect.

Solaire held the surcoat in his hands, feeling the weight of Luna's symbol now emblazoned upon it. The deep blue fabric caught the starlight, making the crescent moon seem to glow with its own inner radiance.

Luna's hooves clicked against the wooden floor as she moved to the cabin's window. "They will need time," she said, her gaze fixed on the barrier's edge where the eternal night met the world beyond. "Your journey cannot begin until they have made their choice."

Solaire lowered the surcoat, understanding flowing through him. Five years of isolation had taught him patience, but the mention of companions stirred something in his chest - hope, perhaps, or anxiety. Both felt foreign after so long alone.

"You speak of Twilight and her friends." He placed the surcoat carefully beside his sword.

"Indeed." Luna turned back to face him. "Any discussion of who might accompany you would have been meaningless before her return. But now..." Her mane rippled with starlight. "Now everything has changed. They must decide amongst themselves who will brave the path to Lordran."

Solaire nodded, remembering the darkness he'd sensed within Twilight, the raw power that churned beneath her surface. The thought of leading others into Lordran's twisted landscape sent a chill through his desiccated flesh. He had witnessed too many warriors fall to its horrors, too many souls consumed by its endless hunger.

"I cannot prepare them for what awaits us," he said quietly.

"I do not expect you to," Luna replied. "Those who go with you do so with the understanding that they may never see their home again. I do not ask this of them lightly."

Solaire turned to the scattered pieces of armor Luna had conjured. The weight of their conversation pressed against his chest. "Princess Celestia must be restored," he said, each word measured and firm. "Whatever darkness lies in Lordran, whatever horrors await us there - we have no choice but to face them."

His fingers closed around the helm first, feeling its solid presence. He placed the helm on the rough-hewn table beside his sword.

The chainmail came next, links clicking together as he gathered them. The sound reminded him of countless battles, of steel meeting steel in Lordran's twisted corridors. He laid it beside the helm with practiced precision.

"The sun grows weaker each day," he continued, reaching for the plated greaves. "I've watched it through your barrier, seen its light diminish bit by bit." The metal caught the eternal starlight as he arranged it carefully with the other pieces.

The vambraces followed, then finally the surcoat bearing Luna's mark. Each piece of armor represented a step closer to departure, to facing whatever waited for them in Lordran. His movements were methodical, born from years of discipline and preparation.

Solaire gathered his sword last, testing its familiar weight in his hand before placing it atop the folded surcoat. Everything he would need for the journey ahead lay before him, arranged with precision on the weathered table surface.

"I will be ready," he said.

Chapter Twelve - A Bad Pony

Rainbow Dash tightened the hood of her flight suit as she carved through the frigid air. The wind whipped past her face, carrying stinging pellets of ice and snow that would have blinded her if not for her goggles. Her wingblades, strapped securely to her sides, caught the dim light as she adjusted her course northward.

The barren landscape stretched beneath her like a white sheet. Hard to believe these frozen wastes were once rolling meadows, filled with wildflowers and the greenest fields of grass in Equestria. Now there was only the howl of wind and the never ending torrential snow.

Her muscles tensed against the cold as she scanned the ground. Even in this darkness, even after three years, she knew exactly what she was looking for. The memories were etched into her mind with the precision of a blade - every rock formation, every frozen tree that marked her path.

Rainbow's wings cut through another gust as she descended. The snow swirled around her in tight spirals as she touched down, her hooves breaking through the crusty surface into deeper powder. She stood still, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The wind carried the familiar scent of distant pines and frost, exactly as she remembered it.

This was the spot.

Her breath came out in white puffs as she stood in the endless expanse of white. The Crystal Empire lay somewhere beyond the northern horizon, but here, in this wasteland between it and Canterlot, there was nothing but snow and memories she wished she could forget.

Rainbow's eyes fixed on the unmarked expanse of white. Nothing remained to show what had happened here - how could there? The endless snow had long since buried all trace. She pulled a steel implement from her saddlebag, the metal catching what little light filtered through the clouds. With practiced movements, she secured it to her right forehoof.

The rhythmic sound of metal cutting through packed snow filled the air as she dug. Her mind drifted as she worked, muscle memory guiding each strike. She'd replayed this moment in her head countless times over the years, always orienting herself by that single dead tree about a hundred yards away. Its twisted branches reached toward the sky like desperate claws, a sight forever burned into her memory.

The steel bit deeper with each swing. Rainbow's movements became mechanical, almost trance-like. She knew this was the exact spot - she'd never forget it, not if she lived another thousand years. The tree's position, the angle of the slope, the way the wind cut across the plain - it all aligned perfectly.

Her hoof struck something that wasn't snow, the impact jolting her from her thoughts. Rainbow stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she brushed away the remaining powder. There, partially exposed in the hole she'd dug, lay a small bundle of rolled cloth.

Rainbow's hooves trembled as she lifted the folded banner from its snowy grave. The fabric felt brittle, ready to crack at the slightest pressure. She knew what lay within - had known all along. The weight of the cylindrical object within pressed against the cloth, exactly as she'd left it.

Her wings pulled tight against her body as memories flooded back. The smashed bones. The reddened snow, The way the northern wind had howled that day, drowning out everything except-

No. She couldn't think about that now.

Rainbow shoved the wrapped bundle into her saddlebag, her movements sharp and precise. She didn't need to look at it. Didn't want to.

The leather scroll case came out next, its surface worn smooth by the elements and repeated use. Though now, Rainbow couldn't remember the last time she had used it. There was no need to communicate with Princess Luna when nothing had changed.

The worn edges of the scroll case felt familiar against her coat as she extracted the enchanted parchment. The paper crackled as she unrolled it, stiff from the cold.

Her breath formed small clouds in the air as she balanced the small ink pen between her teeth. The metal nib scratched against the parchment's surface as she wrote, each word precise and measured despite the biting wind: "Critical. Need to find Shining Armor. New intel about P. Cadance."

The pen hovered over the scroll. Rainbow's heart pounded against her chest as she forced herself to add the three words that would change everything: "I found her."

The ink sank into the parchment, disappearing like water into sand. Rainbow's wings twitched with anticipation as she waited, the scroll held steady despite the gusts that whipped around her.

New words bled through the scroll's surface, appearing as if written by an invisible hoof. Numbers. Coordinates. Rainbow's pulse quickened as she read them. She knew that location - a remote outpost less than twenty minutes' flight from where she stood.

Shining Armor was closer than she'd imagined.

Rainbow stashed her belongings and took to the air.

Grossly Incandescent

Chapter 12 - A Bad Pony

Rainbow's hooves crunched into the snow as she landed on the outskirts of the settlement. The wind had died down here, blocked by the crumbling remains of what had once been defensive walls.

Five years ago, this place had bustled with activity - hundreds of soldiers manning posts, coordinating attacks, treating wounded. Now the abandoned buildings stood like hollow teeth in a broken jaw, most of their windows dark and empty.

Rainbow's gaze swept over the collection of snow sleds outside the main structure. Mark IV models - military grade, enchanted for speed and stealth. Only unicorns could operate that kind of equipment. The thought made her chest tighten. Shining Armor was here.

A warm glow spilled from the central building's windows, casting yellow squares onto the pristine snow. Rainbow counted three distinct light sources - probably coming from the old war room where they used to plan operations. Her wings twitched at the memory of countless strategy sessions around those tables.

The rest of the outpost lay silent and still. No guards patrolled the perimeter, no smoke rose from any other chimneys. Just as Luna's intelligence had suggested - a skeleton crew, if that. Maybe ten ponies total, assuming they maintained standard rotation.

Rainbow flexed her shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of her wingblades shift against her primaries. The weapons were unnecessary here, she knew, but their presence brought comfort all the same. Old habits died hard.

Rainbow's hooves sank into the deep snow as she forced herself to take the long way around. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight in her saddlebag a constant reminder of her failure. Of her cowardice.

The object pressed against her side like a burning coal. Three years. Three whole years she'd carried this secret, letting Shining search endlessly for answers that now lay nestled between her supplies and field rations.

Her wings twitched with the urge to take flight, to turn back, to do anything but face what waited inside that building. But she kept walking, one hoof after another through the pristine white powder.

"I've checked the northern territories again." Her own words from years ago echoed in her mind, haunting her. "No sign of her, Shining. I'm sorry."

He'd thanked her then, his eyes hollow but grateful. Trusted her completely, never questioning why she'd stopped mentioning those particular search patterns in her reports.

The cold bit at her face, but she welcomed it. Better than the burning shame that threatened to consume her every time she thought about those first few days after she found it out in the snow. How she'd convinced herself that waiting just a little longer was the right thing to do. That he wasn't ready to hear it yet. That she wasn't ready to tell him. Or that it was all her fault.

Days had become weeks. Weeks had stretched into months. And now here she was, three years later, finally forcing herself to do what she should have done immediately. The weight of it crushed her chest, made each breath feel like swallowing glass.

Rainbow paused at the doorway, her ears swiveling forward to catch the low murmur of voices from within. The sound of papers rustling, the soft scrape of metal on metal, the distinctive hum of active magic - all familiar sounds from her years of joint operations with the Royal Guard.

Her hoof pushed the heavy door open. The warmth hit her first, along with the sharp scent of weapon oil and leather polish. Six unicorns occupied the room, their forms casting long shadows in the lamplight. Four clustered around a table laden with documents, while two more worked methodically at the maintenance station in the back.

Rainbow's tactical assessment kicked in automatically. Though they'd shed their formal armor, their bearing gave them away - the precise movements, the controlled economy of motion that marked career soldiers. Royal Guard, without question.

The conversation died as heads turned toward her, their horns glowing as if ready to manifest weapons at a moment's notice. Rainbow squared her shoulders, lifted her chin.

"Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Wonderbolts Aerial Defense Corps." Despite how she felt, she was able to put some authority in her voice. "I'm looking for Commander Shining Armor. I understand that he is here."

The unicorn closest to Rainbow - a gray stallion with a closely-cropped mane - studied her for a long moment before turning his head toward one of the back rooms.

"Commander, there's a pegasus here to see you."

Rainbow's ears pricked forward at the sound of shuffling papers from behind the closed door.

"Who is it?" Shining's voice carried that same exhausted edge she remembered from their last meeting.

"Says her name is Rainbow Dash."

The silence that followed seemed to stretch forever. Rainbow fought the urge to shift her weight, to fidget under the suspicious stares of the unicorns around her. Their horns still glowed faintly, ready to react at the slightest provocation.

"Let her through."

The change in the room was immediate but subtle. The magical glow faded from their horns, though their eyes followed her every movement as she crossed the floor. Their stances remained rigid, professional - but Rainbow caught the slight relaxation in their shoulders, the way their ears shifted from alert to merely attentive.

Her hooves seemed too loud on the wooden floor as she approached the door. The weight in her saddlebag felt heavier with each step, until she thought it might drag her straight through the floorboards.

Rainbow pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Rainbow's breath caught in her throat as she took in the cramped space. Maps covered every inch of wall, their edges curling and yellowed with age. Red lines crisscrossed the territories - search patterns she recognized from years of coordinating with the Guard.

The cot squeaked as Shining shifted his weight, offering that same tired smile she remembered. His coat had lost its luster, and his mane stuck out at odd angles like he'd been running his hooves through it for hours. The stubble along his jaw only emphasized the shadows under his eyes.

"Rainbow Dash." His voice carried warmth despite his haggard appearance. "It's been a while."

Her eyes drifted to his desk, where papers sprawled across the surface in organized chaos. Between tactical reports and supply requisitions, a silver frame caught the lamplight. The photograph showed a younger, happier time - Cadance's wings spread protectively over a beaming Twilight, both of them caught mid-laugh at something beyond the frame.

Rainbow's saddlebag suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She forced herself to look away from the photo, but the image of Cadance's smile burned in her mind, making the object pressed against her side feel like ice.

The room itself told a story of obsession. Personal items mingled with military gear - his armor propped in one corner needed cleaning, and scrolls spilled from his saddlebags nearby. Everything spoke of a pony who'd stopped caring about anything beyond his mission.

"Been keeping busy," Shining said, gesturing vaguely at the maps. His horn glowed faintly as he levitated a cup of something that smelled like three-day-old coffee. "But you didn't come all this way for small talk, did you?"

Rainbow shifted her weight, desperate for any topic that would delay the inevitable. "So... you heard about Twilight?"

"Luna sent word." Shining's horn glowed as he pulled a scroll from the mess on his desk. "Hard to believe, isn't it? After all this time..."

"You're not coming back?" The words slipped out before Rainbow could stop them.

Shining's eyes darted to the northern section of his wall map. Red strings connected various points, forming a complex web of information. "Can't. Not now. We've picked up some promising leads in the Crystal Wastes."

He levitated several markers, adjusting their positions. "The last caravan we tracked was heading northeast, following an old trade route. My scouts found residual magic signatures matching Cadance's frequency." His voice caught slightly on her name. "Based on the decay rate, we're looking at activity within the last month."

"The triangulation puts their destination somewhere in this region." His horn traced a circle around a blank section of the map. "We've already identified three potential sites that match the intelligence from our field agents. Just need to-"

Rainbow's chest tightened as she watched him shuffle through more papers, his eyes bright with that familiar desperate hope. The same look he'd worn for three years straight, growing more intense with each passing day.

The weight in her saddlebag seemed to pulse with every word he spoke, every gesture that showed just how close he thought he was to finding answers.

Rainbow's throat constricted as she watched Shining pull out another stack of parchments, his horn's glow casting dancing shadows across the wall.

"Look at these readings." His magic spread the documents across his desk. "The resonance patterns might not be exact matches, but they're closer than anything we've found before."

Rainbow's wings pressed tight against her sides as Shining traced lines between various points on his map, connecting invisible dots that only he could see. His voice carried that edge of manic enthusiasm she'd heard too many times before.

"She's out here, Rainbow. I know it." His hoof jabbed at a particular spot on the map. "These energy signatures - they're deliberate. Like breadcrumbs. She's leaving them for us to find."

The weight in Rainbow's saddlebag seemed to grow heavier with each word. She watched as Shining's eyes lit up, that familiar spark of desperate hope burning brighter than ever.

"She must be in trouble. Maybe captured, or forced to keep moving." He shuffled through more papers, pulling out a weathered field report. "But she's alive. She has to be. And she needs me to find her."

Shining's horn glowed brighter as he levitated more markers onto the map. "We're close now. Closer than I've ever been. These latest readings..." He trailed off, lost in his calculations. "Just a few more weeks. Maybe less. I can feel it."

Rainbow's throat constricted as she lowered herself to the floor, her wings trembling against her sides. The weight of what she was about to do pressed down on her chest like a physical force, threatening to crush her completely.

"Shining." Her voice came out rough. "I need to tell you something."

The tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back hard. She couldn't break. Not now. Not when she'd carried this burden for so long.

Her hooves moved mechanically as she pulled her saddlebags forward, setting them on the wooden floor between them with a soft thud. The familiar leather felt wrong under her touch, knowing what lay hidden inside.

"Do you remember..." Rainbow swallowed, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. "Do you remember asking the Wonderbolts to help locate that missing relief caravan? Three years ago?"

The change in Shining's expression was subtle but immediate. His ears flicked forward, and that manic enthusiasm drained from his face, replaced by something more guarded. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, picking up on her rigid posture, the tension in her wings.

"Yes." The word came out slow, careful. "I remember."

Rainbow's wings twitched as the memories surfaced, each detail sharp and painful despite the years that had passed.

"We had twenty teams searching." Her voice felt distant, mechanical. "Four pegasi per team, rotating shifts to cover maximum ground. But between the griffon raids and the weather..." She shook her head. "Some days we could barely see ten feet in front of us."

The coffee cup clinked as Shining set it down, his eyes fixed on her face. "The report mentioned the challenges. Particularly that string of blizzards that grounded your teams for nearly a week."

Rainbow nodded, her throat tight. "Yeah. And the territory... Luna's mane, it was huge. We had maps, coordinates, but everything looks the same up there. Just endless white." Her wings pressed tighter against her sides. "Even with perfect conditions, I wasn't sure we'd covered everything thoroughly enough."

She watched Shining's horn glow as he pulled a familiar document from his stack - her official report, the edges worn from countless readings.

"You documented all of this." His voice was steady, professional. "Including the recommendation for a second sweep once weather conditions improved."

Rainbow's chest felt like it might cave in. The weight of her saddlebag seemed to pulse against her side, demanding to be acknowledged.

"What I didn't include..." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "On the last day, after I'd dismissed the other teams... I went back out. Alone."

The words hung in the air between them. Rainbow watched as Shining's ears pivoted forward, his posture shifting ever so slightly.

"I found something." The admission felt like glass in her throat. "Something I never put in any report."

Rainbow's wings trembled as the memories surfaced, each detail crystallizing with painful clarity. "I went way outside the search grid that day." Her voice cracked. "Don't know what made me do it. Call it intuition or just a stupid hunch."

The coffee cup clinked against the desk as Shining set it down. His eyes never left her face.

"The snow wasn’t as bad that day." Rainbow's throat tightened. "Made things easier to spot. Found pieces of wood first - splintered, scattered. Someone had taken apart a wagon, probably for firewood."

Her ears pinned back as she continued. "There were bits of cloth too. Shredded. Frozen to the ground in places."

Rainbow forced herself to look at Shining, watching as understanding began to dawn in his eyes. Her stomach churned as she reached the part she'd rehearsed a thousand times, the words she'd never been able to say.

"Then I found the bones." The words felt like acid on her tongue. "They were... smashed. The way griffons always..."

She didn't need to finish. They'd both seen enough griffon attack sites over the years. The savage way they crushed the bones of their victims was a signature. It was a calling card whether they intended it or not it. As with all living things, griffons had to eat as well and they wasted nothing from their kills.

Rainbow's wings twitched as she forced herself to continue. "I wasn't sure what I'd found at first. The site was way outside our established grid - at least twenty miles." She pawed at the floor, her eyes fixed on a point just past Shining's shoulder. "That's nothing for a pegasus at full speed, but for a wagon in those conditions..."

The confusion in that moment came rushing back - the endless white landscape, the scattered debris that didn't match any of their intelligence. It hadn't made sense. The caravan should have been following the marked route, not veering off into untamed wilderness.

"I almost turned back." Her voice cracked. "Was about to head for camp, report what I'd found. But then-"

Rainbow's hooves moved mechanically as she reached into her saddlebag. The fabric felt rough under her touch - a once-proud banner of the Crystal Empire, now reduced to little more than tattered scraps. She'd wrapped it carefully, reverently, around the object that had haunted her for three years.

The bundle made no sound as she placed it on the wooden floor between them. The weight of it seemed to press into the boards, demanding acknowledgment.

"There was something else in the snow." Rainbow's voice came out barely above a whisper. Her hooves shook as she gripped the edge of the fabric. "Something I couldn't...”

She swallowed. “I tried to tell you, Shining. I really did. I’m so sorry.”

Rainbow's heart hammered against her ribs as she watched Shining's eyes lock onto the bundle. His breath caught - a tiny, sharp intake that seemed to echo in the cramped room. The tattered crystal banner lay between them like a wound, its once-proud colors dulled by time and weather.

Shining's horn lit with a faint blue glow. Rainbow's wings pressed tight against her sides as he tugged at the corner of the fabric, his magic trembling slightly. The cloth unfurled with agonizing slowness.

The pink horn rolled free, its spiral catching the lamplight. Rainbow fought the urge to look away as recognition bloomed across Shining's features. Of course he knew that horn - had seen it every morning for years, watched it light up with magic whenever Cadance smiled or laughed.

Now it lay cold and lifeless on his office floor, the last piece of the mare he'd spent three years searching for.

Shining didn't move. His expression remained frozen, unreadable as he stared at the horn. The map markers on his desk continued to glow faintly, their positions marking paths that led nowhere, tracking a ghost that would never return.

Rainbow's muscles tensed as Shining began to pace, his hooves marking an erratic path across the wooden floor. She tracked every movement, noting the way his breathing changed, how his ears twitched with each turn.

His face cycled through emotions faster than she could track - denial, anger, confusion, each expression bleeding into the next. Words tumbled from his mouth in broken fragments, too quiet to make out clearly.

Then came the laugh - a harsh, broken sound that made her feathers bristle. It wasn't the warm chuckle she remembered from better days, or even the stressed laugh she'd heard during war meetings. This was something else entirely, something that made her primary flight feathers ache with the need to flee.

He stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on the horn. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Rainbow's throat worked as she opened her mouth to speak, to offer some kind of explanation or comfort.

The sword cleared its sheath before she could form the words. Blue magic wrapped around the blade as it shot from beneath the bed, whipping through the air, its tip stopping just inches from her throat.

"Get out,” he whispered.

Rainbow met Shining's gaze and froze. His eyes held none of the warmth or brotherhood she'd known for years. Instead, she found something darker - a cold, murderous fury that made her blood run cold. The sword hadn't wavered from her throat, but she knew with absolute certainty that it was just a formality. The real threat lay in those eyes. He could kill her in an instant with just a thought.

Her wings pressed tight against her sides as she backed toward the door, every movement slow and deliberate. One wrong step, one word of protest, and that blade would find its mark. This wasn’t Shining Armor anymore, but a broken soul whose existence had been reduced to nothing because of her lie.

Rainbow's hoof found her saddlebag. As she lifted it, her eyes drifted to the horn still lying exposed on the floor. The sight made her stomach clench. Three years. She'd carried that secret for three years, telling herself she was protecting him, sparing him from the truth. But watching him now, seeing the devastation she'd caused by her own inaction and cowardice, she knew that even with the best of intentions some mistakes can never be fixed.

The door creaked as she pushed it open. The conversations of the unicorns outside stopped as she emerged. She felt their stares but couldn't meet their eyes, couldn't bear to see the questions there. Hot tears blurred her vision as she walked past them and into the cold snow outside.

Rainbow shot into the sky, her wings beating hard against the frozen air. Usually flying cleared her head, let her outrace her problems until they faded like contrails behind her. But not today. Not with this.

Her stomach twisted as another memory surfaced - the clerk standing in her office doorway, petition in hoof. The official seal of the Crystal Empire had gleamed on the parchment. Rainbow had barely glanced up from her desk.

"We're stretched thin as it is," she'd said, shuffling through reports of griffon movements along the northern border. "Can't spare any teams for escort duty right now."

The clerk had shifted nervously. "But ma'am, Princess Cadance specifically requested-"

"Look, we've got real problems to deal with." Rainbow had cut him off with a wave of her hoof. "The princess can handle a simple supply run without the Wonderbolts holding her hoof."

Fresh tears spilled down Rainbow's face as she climbed higher into the cold air. One signature. That's all it would have taken. One simple approval and Cadance would have had a full aerial escort. Instead, Rainbow had dismissed it like just another piece of paperwork.

The wind whipped the tears from her cheeks as she pushed herself faster, trying to outrun the crushing weight of what she'd done. But there was no escaping it. No way to undo that moment of casual arrogance that had cost Princess Cadance her life.

Rainbow didn’t know which lie pained her more - the lie she told Shining Armor all those years ago, or the lie she told herself that there was nothing else she could have done?

The wind stung her eyes, but she welcomed the physical pain. It was easier to focus on than thinking of Shining's face when he'd seen that horn.

The cold air burned in her lungs as she pushed herself harder, trying to outpace the voice in her head that whispered the truth she couldn't escape: Cadance's death was her fault.

She banked south toward Ponyville, her heart as heavy as lead. How could she face any of them knowing what she'd done? Twilight had lost her sister-in-law. The Crystal Empire had lost their princess. And Shining... Shining had lost everything.

The truth about finding Cadance's horn was bad enough. But this? The knowledge that she could have prevented it all with a single stroke of her quill remained with her like a festering wound.

The northern winds howled around her, carrying the weight of her silence like a physical thing. Some burdens, Rainbow realized, were meant to be carried alone.

****

The dirt crunched beneath her hooves as Applejack walked. Five steps, then six, then seven. She'd counted them so many times before. It was easier to focus on numbers than to think about Rainbow sitting at her table again, or Twilight's return stirring up old wounds.

The residual droplets from yesterday's rain had burned off, leaving the grass dry and brittle under the sickly sun. The light felt wrong against her mane, like a stranger's unwanted touch.

A breeze stirred her mane, and she fought the urge to adjust a hat that wasn't there. The sun beat down, weak and wrong, like everything else these days. Her muscles tensed with each step, an old soldier's habit she couldn't shake. Even here, in the relative safety of her own land, surrounded by walls she'd helped raise, she couldn't fully relax.

Applejack had slipped out her bedroom window like a guilty filly, dropping to the ground with practiced silence. It felt foolish, sneaking around her own property, but she couldn't bear to face their questions. Their concern. Their understanding. Better to walk the perimeter alone, letting the familiar rhythm of hooves on dirt drown out the chaos in her head.

Applejack breathed in deep as she continued down the empty path. Everyone else was probably neck-deep in their duties, coaxing life from tired soil with their newfound magic.

A flash of movement caught her eye through the canopy. She stopped, muscles tensing as she tracked a shape cutting through the air above the orchard. The pegasus disappeared behind the leaves before emerging again in slow, practiced glide.

The flash of rainbow mane through the leaves made Applejack's breath catch. Rainbow Dash glided overhead, her movements deliberate and searching. Gone was her usual breakneck speed, replaced by careful sweeps across the orchard.

Applejack's gaze darted to a gnarled apple tree nearby. Its thick branches would provide decent cover, but she pushed the thought away. She wasn't some scared filly hiding from her problems.

Her hooves kept their steady rhythm against the dirt path, though her heart hammered against her ribs. If Rainbow wanted to talk, she'd have to be the one to make the first move. Applejack had said everything she needed to say two years ago.

On Rainbow's next pass, her wings stilled. She hovered, the sun high above obscuring her features in shadow.

Still, Applejack walked on. One hoof in front of the other, like she'd done countless times before. The sound of her steps echoed in her ears.

Applejack watched as Rainbow's wings spread wide, catching the air as she descended. Her old friend landed with practiced grace on the stone wall ahead.

Rainbow's hooves clicked against the stone before she dropped to the dirt path. Clinging to her flight suit and the tips of her wings was snow and frost as if she had just flown in from a place the sun didn't touch.

"Hey." Rainbow's voice cracked on that single word.

"Mornin'." Applejack kept her tone neutral, professional.

But as she drew closer, her practiced detachment faltered. Rainbow's eyes were rimmed with red, the kind that came from crying, not lack of sleep. Her wings drooped slightly, a tell most wouldn't notice. But Applejack knew her friend.

Deep lines creased Rainbow's face, and her usual confident stance was replaced by something heavier. Something broken.

"What happened, Rainbow?" The words came unbidden, soft with concern.

Applejack's chest tightened as Rainbow's shoulders slumped.

"I'm so stupid, AJ. I made such a terrible mistake." Rainbow's voice wavered. "Seeing Twilight again... being here... I had to try and fix things."

Applejack shifted her weight, fighting the urge to step closer. After two years of anger, the familiar concern felt strange, like putting on an old saddle that didn't quite fit anymore. "What happened?"

"I hurt Shining Armor. Bad." Rainbow's wings trembled. "I can never forgive myself for what I did."

The words hung in the morning air between them. Applejack watched as fresh tears rolled down Rainbow's cheeks, catching the weak sunlight. Her old friend had always worn her heart on her wing, but this raw pain was different.

Rainbow swiped at her face with a hoof, her breath hitching. "It happened a few months before our fight. Around the same time that you left the Red Brigade." She drew in a shaky breath. "I blamed myself for this horrible thing, and then... then I blamed you for leaving us alone up there." Her voice cracked. "I rationalized it to myself that if you were still up there with us when it happened, I would have made different choices. But really, I was just... I was looking for someone else to blame but myself."

Applejack studied Rainbow's face, searching for clues in the tight lines around her eyes and the tremble in her wings. Whatever burden she carried, it weighed heavier than their own falling out.

"I reckon I don't rightly know what happened back then, Rainbow." Applejack kept her voice gentle, like calming a spooked horse. "But if you need to talk about it, I'm here."

Rainbow's breath caught, her wings pulling tight against her sides. A ghost of relief crossed her features, as if she'd expected judgment instead of understanding.

"Thanks, AJ." Rainbow wiped her face again, smearing tears across her cheeks. "I just... I fall apart so easily now. Ever since it happened, I can barely hold myself together." Her voice cracked. "I couldn't face any of you because I knew I'd break. Knew I couldn't keep it hidden."

Applejack watched as Rainbow's gaze dropped to the dirt path between them.

"It was easier to throw myself into the corps. To stay away. To focus on training and patrols and anything else that kept me from thinking about what I did." Rainbow's words tumbled out faster now, like a dam breaking. "Being busy meant I didn't have to face it. Didn't have to come to terms with any of it."

Rainbow shifted her weight, wings rustling in the morning air.

"Seeing Twilight again..." Rainbow's voice caught. "It changed everything. Luna's going to ask us soon, about going with Solaire to Lordran."

The words hit Applejack like a physical blow. Of course Luna would ask. The mission had always loomed over them, a shadow they'd all tried to ignore.

"I never changed my mind about going," Rainbow continued, her eyes fixed on some distant point. "But I couldn't leave with all this weighing me down. If we don't come back-"

"Don't."

Rainbow's gaze snapped to her face. "We have to be realistic, AJ. That's why I had to tell Shining the truth. Why I'm here now." Her wings trembled. "I need to make things right with you too."

Applejack's throat felt tight. The anger she'd nursed for two years flickered and dimmed in the face of Rainbow's raw honesty. She recognized the look in her friend's eyes - the same one she'd seen in countless soldiers before a dangerous mission. The need to clear the slate, just in case.

The weak sunlight caught Rainbow's wingblades, still dusted with frost from her northern flight. They'd both changed so much, turned hard and sharp by necessity. But underneath the soldier's stance and battle scars, Applejack could still see traces of her old friend.

"That's why you went to him," Applejack said. "You're clearing your conscience before you go."

Rainbow nodded, her mane falling forward to hide her face.

"I don't know if I should have," she said. "Maybe it would have been better to keep it to myself. Especially after all this time."

Applejack studied Rainbow's face, noting the tremors in her wings, the way her breath hitched. In all their years together - through battles, losses, and victories - she'd never seen Rainbow this broken. Not even when they lost Twilight.

Her anger at their falling out felt small and petty now. Whatever burden Rainbow carried had hollowed her out, left her raw and bleeding.

"What happened, sugarcube?" Applejack kept her voice soft, gentle as a spring breeze. "Tell me."

Rainbow's mouth opened, then closed. Her eyes darted away, then back, conflict etched in every line of her face. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she sank to the ground, her wings drooping in defeat.

"I killed Cadance." The words came out barely above a whisper. Rainbow's shoulders shook. "Not directly, but... my own stupid decision."

Applejack's breath caught. She forced herself to stay still, to let Rainbow speak at her own pace.

"And then-" Rainbow's voice cracked. "When I found evidence of the attack later, I didn't tell Shining Armor. I just... I couldn't."

The weight of those words settled between them like lead. Applejack watched as more tears tracked down Rainbow's face, catching the weak sunlight. They had all followed the situation of Cadance's disappearance closely, but her death had never been confirmed.

Applejack's chest tightened as Rainbow's voice cracked again.

"Then we had that fight." Rainbow's wings pulled tight against her body. "I blamed you for leaving us up there. I blamed myself for being too proud to ask for help. I blamed Twilight for dying and leaving us alone." Her breath hitched. "I even blamed Celestia for putting us in this position in the first place."

Rainbow's gaze dropped to the ground, her shoulders hunching. "Sometimes I blamed Cadance for not coming to me directly. For not demanding a Wonderbolt escort." Her voice grew hollow. "Anything to make the pain make sense."

The change in Rainbow's expression sent a chill down Applejack's spine. The fire in her friend's eyes dimmed, replaced by an emptiness that scared her more than anything.

"I think..." Rainbow's voice came out flat, distant. "I think I'm just a bad pony."

Applejack's heart shattered at those words. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and pulled Rainbow into a tight embrace. Her friend stiffened for a moment before collapsing against her, trembling.

"Come on back to the farmhouse with me." Applejack's voice came out rough with emotion. "I made haycakes this morning."

Rainbow's breath caught, and Applejack remembered those mornings sharing breakfast, Rainbow demolishing plate after plate of her haycakes with that goofy grin on her face. So much had changed. So much time had passed.

Rainbow pulled back, wiping her eyes with a shaky hoof. For a second, Applejack thought she would refuse, but the pegasus stood, her wings rustling as she adjusted them against her sides. Together, they turned toward home.