A Simple Reflection

by FanNotANerd

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Luna, Adventure, Shining Armor, Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 33304

In an experiment gone awry, a pony is brought to Equestria. A perfectly ordinary pony. One so ordinary, it runs the risk of destroying Equestria's very lifeblood.

All Princess Celestia wanted was to open a window. A simple window into another world, for no reason other than to prove their existence. She never wanted it to become a door. And she certainly never wanted anything to come through. But, as is proven so often, we don't always get what we want.

It's not all bad. What comes through is a perfectly ordinary pony. So ordinary that its very presence risks the destruction of magic itself.

Ordinary, after all, is highly relative.

Published 2013-08-09 16:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-20 23:12:31 UTC

Prologue

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Princess Celestia looked over her notes one last time. It was purely unnecessary; she already knew that the arrangement was perfect, the lines drawn straight and true.

She looked up from the hastily sketched diagram on a page to the larger version chalked out over the stone floor. Most of the furniture in her quarters had been piled up around the sides of the room to make space for the intricate arrangement of lines, fractals and geometric shapes. While drawn on a flat surface, it had a strange depth to it, as if it extended far down into the floor. The effect would have been quite dizzying to one who had not spent hours drawing it.

Princess Luna had urged caution, and rightfully so. The amount of power required by the spell was unthinkable: nearly more than Celestia could generate, even in the midday sun.

But there was one thing her sister failed to understand. After all this time… all this preparation… Celestia had to know if she was right. If the spell even came close to succeeding, it would be well worth the risk. It was a dangerous trait, this thirst for truth, one she freely admitted had rubbed off on her from her student.

But there was nothing to be done about that. With a bracing breath, she lit her horn and began channeling power into the lines. The lines themselves had no effect on the spell. They simply served as a physical anchor, of sorts: something for Celestia to focus her power on.

Within moments, the magic had risen to a fever pitch. Stray arcs of magic erupted from Celestia’s horn, cracking and buckling stonework where they struck. The room around her groaned, as if it were a living thing being delivered a mortal wound.

But Celestia was past caring. It’s working, she thought, sweat beading on her forehead. Stars help me, it’s working.

There were some things in life that Shining Armour would never tire of. Good hay fries, for one, or the look on Twilight’s face whenever she was immersed in a book. At the same time, there were things he tired of almost immediately.

Heading his list was the surprised expressions on everypony’s face when he was seen walking around Canterlot Castle. But Captain, aren’t you supposed to be in the Crystal Empire with Princess Cadance?

Shining scowled as he walked past a startled pair of guards who had just asked that question. Sure, it was rude, leaving them without a reply, but he’d gotten sick of giving the exact same answer over and over: there were still things in Canterlot that required his attention. Prince or not, he was still Captain of the Guard, until Celestia decided to appoint a replacement. Shifts had to be inspected, speeches had to be given to new recruits, requisition orders had to be signed…

He paused at the door to his quarters, frowning. The door was slightly open, and soft clinks drifted out from inside. Moving by instinct, Shining lit his horn, preparing an immobilizing shield spell, and stepped inside.

The room looked just about the same way as it had when he’d left it about a month before, with one exception: several of his cupboards had been opened, seemingly at random. The occasional sound continued to come from the side room, overlaid now by soft mutters.

Shining Armour’s eyebrows met in fierce determination. I’ve got you now. He flung himself around the corner, roaring a wordless challenge—and stopped, blinking rapidly. “Fairweather?”

The grey pegasus in his room yelped in surprise, his involuntary jerk throwing a bottle in the air. He frantically reached out to grab it, and bounced it from hoof to hoof a few times before finally catching it an inch before it shattered on the ground. He was still in uniform, and a major's gold bands glittered on his shoulder. “Whit’s gotten into you?” he exclaimed in a rough burr, examining the bottle for cracks. “Ah almost dropped this! 'Tis a sin to waste good whiskey, you know!” His scowl, on a face already disfigured by a battle wound that had split his lower jaw, was positively sickening to look at—at least it would have been, had Shining not already gotten used to his friend’s ghastly visage.

Shining let the magic go and stepped forward, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Fairweather? What are you doing here?”

Fairweather gave a snort of ill temper. “Ah was tryin’ to surprise ye. Thought I could offer a belated congratulation for getting married an’ all. Maybe come some way to makin’ up for missing the wedding.”

“No, I mean… what are you doing in Canterlot? Weren’t you stationed in the Griffon Empire as a political liaison?”

Fairweather burst out laughing. “Is that whit they told ye? Imagine that. They’d take one look at me face and declare war right there! No, I was in charge of the real liaison’s escort. Granted, that duty fell to me when he went and ran off with one o’ the palace servants… can we just say it was a mess and leave it at that?”

With a grunt of effort, he uncorked the bottle of whiskey and inhaled the aroma. “Ah… that’s the good stuff.”

“Didn’t you give that to me for my birthday last year?” Shining asked.

“’Course Ah did!” Fairweather replied, pouring a generous measure into two crystal tumblers he’d produced from a pocket. “No offense, but my taste’s a wee bit better than yours, and Ah wouldn’t want to spoil this occasion with… blech… substandard whiskey. Now, then…”

He held the tumbler out and clinked it a clinked it against Shining’s. “To your lovely wife, stars favour her. Honestly, Ah would’ve given the world to be there at your wedding.”

Shining raised an eyebrow. “Changeling invasion and all?”

“Especially for the Changelings!” Fairweather replied. “Weddings are always so boring. Sometimes, you need a good invasion to spice things up a bit.” With a practiced motion, he knocked back the whiskey as if it were water and carefully placed the tumbler on Shining’s desk. Shining himself took only a small sip, out of politeness; even that burned like a mouthful of hot coals. He put down the tumbler with as much grace as he could muster, fighting the urge to cough. There was a very good reason he never drank.

“So what brings you back here?” he choked, blinking tears from his eyes.

Fairweather shrugged, pouring another measure of whiskey for himself. “Somepony needs to handle the recruits,” he replied. “Sure, they’re a sorry lot, but they always are, aren’t they? Physical exam’s too lenient now, if you ask me.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I tells ye… the state of affairs nowadays be downright pitiful. The recruits are useless, the griffons are restless, Princess Celestia hasn’t been seen for days…”

Shining frowned. “She hasn’t? Is something wrong?”

"Ah’ve heard rumours at best," Fairweather admitted. "Most I’ve heard is that her and Luna… they be working on something. Keeping it very quiet, they are.”

He shook his head. “But where are me manners? You’ve put up with me spoutin’ for long enough. How ‘ave things been in the Crystal Empire?”

“Surprisingly well. Cadance has been working on getting the old trade routes back open, and…” His voice trailed off. “Do you feel that?”

Fairweather frowned, although with his permanent scowl, it was almost impossible to tell. “Feel what?”

Shining Armour turned, perfectly aligning himself to the magic’s point of origin. Lots of magic. His horn itched with the intensity of it. Undoubtedly, nearly every unicorn in the area would be feeling the same thing, looking toward the source, and wondering what in the world was going on. Without even thinking, he lit his horn and sent out a questing tendril, trying to pinpoint the source. The effort quickly had a pins-and-needles sensation sprouting over his skin. Tracking spells had never come with the effortlessness that shield spells had, but he’d forced himself to learn them for their sheer usefulness.

As soon as Fairweather saw magic surround Shining’s horn, he straightened, every muscle tense and ready. His morose slouch vanished, replaced with a pose better suited to a griffon about to pounce. He knew well enough not to say anything, lest it break his friend’s concentration.

Shining finally managed to reach the source of the magic—and the weave fell apart. His awareness snapped back to his body with what seemed like physical force, tendrils of magic recoiling as if they were under tension. He let out an audible gasp and leaned against the wall, strength suddenly flooding out of his legs. “The Princess,” he gasped. “Something’s…”

Fairweather didn’t need to hear another word. He turned away, strode to the window, and, snarling when he saw that it didn’t open, grabbed a paperweight off Shining’s desk and hurled it through the glass. “Raise the alarm!” he bellowed as he leapt through the window, spread his wings and glided down to the training ground. “Rally to the Princess!”

Shining Armour forced himself to stand straight, sucking in deep, halting breaths as if he’d just run a marathon. His horn felt strangely numb, like a limb that had been immersed in ice water.

One thing was certain. Celestia was in danger. He had to get to her. Fighting the stab of pain that lanced through his head with every step, he pushed his way out of his quarters and set off down the hallway at a full gallop.

Celestia grimaced with the effort of maintaining the spell. The magic raged at her, enough power to level the palace and everything surrounding it for leagues. Teeth grinding together from the effort, she pushed herself still farther, summoning up reserves of energy she didn’t even know existed.

Part of her screamed to stop, to consider what she was doing—but she was just so close. Besides… she wasn’t sure if she could stop.

The magic reached a critical point… and reality flickered.

Shining Armour stopped dead, heart pounding. What in Tartarus was that? For a moment, it felt like there had been… more of him. Almost like that illusion of an infinite hallway when standing between two mirrors. Except that he could feel them all. Remember all of them. Somehow, impossibly, he remembered being enslaved by the Changeling Queen, falling in love with a pony that wasn’t Cadance, never becoming Captain, dying in battle, dying in an accident, dying at the Changeling Queen’s hooves…

He shuddered. The last few were the ones that disturbed him the most. Even now, they were already fading, like a bad dream, but the feeling of unease remained.

Shining shook himself and forced his hooves back into movement, suppressing a shudder. Stars, how could I remember that? How’s it possible to remember dying?

Another turn took him to the hallway outside Celestia’s chambers. Light from the setting sun slanted through the windows, bathing an elaborate mosaic depicting a rising sun inlaid on the floor. Shining had seen the mosaic so many times that it barely even registered any more. What gave him pause was the pony slumped just outside the door, cradling his head in his hooves and gently rocking, muttering something under his breath.

He must have gotten here before me, Shining thought, barely pausing.

As he raced past, he could make out what the guardpony was saying. “Not like that… not like that… not like that…” Over and over, as if the mantra might help him somehow.

Shining ignored him. The magic in the air was nearly palpable, strong enough to leave a metallic taste on his tongue. And it felt… wrong. Like it didn’t belong. For the first time, it suddenly occurred to him that he wouldn’t be able to do anything against what was in there.

A scowl crossed his face. Well, let it never be said that the Captain of the Guard didn’t try. Without even slowing, he rammed the door, focusing all of his considerable might into the triangular point of his shoulder. The heavy oak doors, inlaid with gold filigree, splintered—as did his shoulder, from the feel of it—and swung inwards.

And at that precise moment, something tore.

Luna’s head snapped up from the pillow, every muscle tense and ready. There was no mistaking the hideous tearing sensation that resonated through her. For a moment, she just stared in the direction of Celestia’s quarters, her jaw hanging open in shock. “Is she insane?” she said quietly.

Without another instant of hesitation she hurled herself out of bed and galloped out of her room, supplementing her movement with magic.

She told me it was for practice, Luna thought as she sped toward the corridors. Just for practice. Sun consume me, I should have known!

On she raced, and yet, deep in her heart, she already knew that it was too late.

Celestia barely even noticed the door slam open. The magic had her in its grasp, and refused to let go. She was helpless to do anything save watch in horror as it seemed to take on a mind of its own, and shape itself into something different.

A hole—that was all it could really be described as—appeared in the air, and slowly tore its way downward. Celestia immediately avoided looking into it; the space within the rip held nothing but madness.

But she didn’t need to see the rent to know that something had just stepped through. Something that simply didn’t belong.

The flow of magic suddenly abated, as if it had been cut by a knife. Celestia stumbled backwards, gasping, and catching her first glimpse of the thing she’d inadvertently brought into the world. She didn’t allow herself to register much more than a vague equine shape and a drab, mottled colour to its coat before surrounding it in the strongest containment spell she could conjure. Concentric rings of golden flame sprang to life around the thing across from her, thankfully blinding her to it. Even the quick glimpse had sent her heart racing; despite the familiar-seeming shape, it exuded wrongness.

Only then did she allow herself to look over at Shining. Her Captain was staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and horror. “What…” he gasped.

His next words were lost as the shape in the midst of the flames took a calm, almost leisurely step toward the perimeter. Almost immediately, the flows of magic began fluctuating wildly in intensity; it was all Celestia could do to hold it together.

“Shining,” she grated, tendons standing out in her neck from the strain. “Run.”

Shining Armour only had time to take a hesitant step backward before the shape’s muzzle brushed the perimeter of the spell—and the entire thing exploded outward, the intricate weaves collapsing into a far simpler and more elemental force.

Celestia watched the wave of energy race toward her with a sort of detached horror. I didn’t want this, she thought. Stars forgive me, I didn’t want—

And then it was upon her. A burning fist picked her up and flung her back as if she were little more than a rag doll. From the corner of her eye, she saw the unforgiving stone wall racing toward her—and then she knew nothing at all.

Gritting his teeth, Fairweather raced toward the princess’ tower room, his wings burning with the effort. Twelve fully armoured pegasi followed him, lances couched in pauldron sockets. He could feel the wrongness emanating from Celestia’s quarters in a malignant wave.

But it didn’t matter. With luck, Shining was already there. All he had to do was hold on long enough for Fairweather to crash through the window, and—

The entire wall exploded outward in a deadly blast of pulverized stone and shattered glass. Fairweather instinctively backpedaled, flapping wildly as his momentum forced him into a stall.

For a moment, he simply hovered there, shock written across his scarred face. Then, “C’mon, you useless sods! Celestia’s in there, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“Sir, somepony fell!” one of the pegasi said. “I saw him, he fell into the river, sir!”

Fairweather paused. No. The world still felt the same to him. That meant his liege and his closest friend were still in it. “Pay it no heed,” he said. “Even if it weren’t your imagination, nothing could've survived that.”

Still, he cast an uneasy glance down at the river. For a moment, he’d thought he’d seen the same thing: an equine shape, falling limply among the shower of stone.

Far below, a dark shape broke through the river, snorting wildly as it expelled water from its mouth. After a moment, it thrashed its way to the bank and shakily stood, looking out over the open field.

It paused, nostrils flaring, sampling the odd smells of this landscape. For minutes, it stood in that same spot, taking in this new and unfamiliar world.

A passing breeze brought a new scent: one that was not entirely unfamiliar. It had smelled it in the closed-in-place-of-stone, but it had been laden with fear and aggression. It was never good to stay around others that carried those smells. No, these ones were different. They were happy, and friendly. Smells that promised ripe fields, and warm sun.

With a whinny of excitement, the equine shape set off for the source of those smells. To where the lights of Ponyville, coaxed into life in preparation for the setting sun, were just beginning to appear.

Chapter 1

It was always fascinating to see just what thrived in a simple drop of pond water. From the naked eye it seemed to be a clear, featureless drop, but under a microscope’s unyielding gaze it was an entire world teeming with life.

One such individual was skittering across Twilight’s field of view just then, pushing itself through undulations of a small, whip-like tail. She scowled at the tiny cell, expertly twisting the knobs that moved the stage around to the organism in sight. Of all the things I choose to study, she thought morosely as the cell nearly swam out of her field of view again, I had to pick the fastest one.

To her right, a pencil floated in her telekinetic grip, occasionally darting down to add a small detail to the sketch on a sheet of parchment. Several others like it were already scattered across her workbench, depicting similar creatures: a long, ovoid shape covered in tiny hairs, an amorphous mass that streamed across the slide like a mass of sentient slime, and glassy structures that appeared in a startling array of geometric shapes and colours. Those drawings had been much quicker, but then the subjects of those had actually deigned to keep still.

So focused on the organism under the microscope was she that she didn’t notice the soft blip from a device packed away on a shelf. A moment later, the machine’s small waveform screen flickered to life again, and the blip became a constant tone.

Twilight flicked her ears against the sound, glaring into the microscope. “Spike!” she called, making another adjustment to keep the cell in view. “Can you shut off whatever that is?”

From behind her, she heard rapid footsteps, and the sound of the closet door opening. But the tone continued. “Spike?”

“I’m trying to figure this out,” Spike said, confusion in his voice. “It’s coming from the thaumascope, but… it’s not hooked up to anything.”

Twilight scowled at the algal cell swimming around on the slide, as if it was the source of all her problems. However useful the thaumascope was in detecting and interpreting magical auras, it was an imperfect technology and had several irritating flaws. The most common of these was a tendency to go off in the presence of strong magical fields, regardless of whether or not activating magic was being channeled into it. “Well… put it in the basement. At least I won’t hear it down there.”

Spike paused. “Uh, Twilight? I think there might actually be something wrong with it.”

Twilight almost looked away. Almost. In the instant that her eyes were unfocused, the algal cell had made it to the edge of her field of view. “Oh, no you don’t,” she muttered, fiddling with the knobs again.

“No I don’t what?”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Twilight replied. “What do you think is wrong with it?”

“Well, it’s showing me values that are off the chart. This thing goes to—”

“Two hundred megathaums. I know.” Twilight cut in. That much magical energy was enough to lift a mountain—or smash it to pieces. There was no way anything nearby could be generating that much power. “You’re right. There must be something wrong with…”

She trailed off. If there was no magical field like that, why was her horn tingling? It was barely more than a faint itch, on the edge of her awareness, but it was there. Based on her experience, she could only feel it when in close proximity to an intense magical field, something in the hundreds of kilothaums. As far as she knew, she was the only one in Ponyville even capable of generating that kind of field.

It was entirely possible that across town, unicorns were blinking in confusion and rubbing at their horn, but only a few who had spent significant amounts of time either working with or studying magic actually knew what it meant.

Realizing her thoughts were wandering, she shifted her focus back to the microscope slide and saw that the tiny algal cell had left the field of view. “Where did you go, you little—”

“I haven’t gone anywhere!” Spike protested, setting the thaumascope down on a table.

In a flash of irritation, Twilight forgot herself enough to pull her gaze from the microscope and shoot an annoyed glance at her dragon assistant. “Still not talking to…” Her eyes widened. “Um, Spike?”

Spike blinked. “What?” His nose twitched as a tendril of acrid smoke wafted past. He blinked again, and glanced toward the thaumascope, which was now centered in a steadily widening circle of char on the table. He made as if to grab it, and snatched his claws back, hissing in pain. The metal casing began to glow a dull red, and sparks shot out as internal components overloaded and failed.

Without wasting another second, Twilight wrapped the thaumascope in the strongest force field she could generate and suspended it in the air. And not a moment too soon. As soon as her magic encased the instrument, it erupted into flame.

“Are you okay?” she asked Spike, eying the melting thaumascope warily. Within moments, the magical bubble was choked with acrid-looking black smoke. She channeled a second spell to vent the smoke, clinging to the hope that something would be salvageable.

“I’m fine,” Spike replied, blowing on his claws. “Just a little singed. What the hay happened there?”

Twilight winced as the thaumascope collapsed into an unrecognizable mass, spitting out one last shower of sparks. Replacing that particular piece of equipment would be a pain. Technically, it was still a prototype model. Something told her that Canterlot University wouldn’t be keen on lending her a second. “Maybe there was a faulty circuit,” she said lamely, momentarily forgetting to chide Spike for his language. “Short circuits cause overheats sometimes…” Sheesh. I don’t sound like I even believe myself.

Spike shared her opinion, and folded his arms. “Last I checked, short circuits don’t do that. That looked more like an overload.”

“All right, so I don’t know what happened!” Twilight snapped. She closed her eyes, reining in her temper. “What I do know,” she continued more calmly, “is that I just lost a very expensive piece of equipment.” She glanced at the table Spike had placed it on, which was now sporting an ugly patch of char. “And a perfectly good worktable.”

Spike cast a worried glance at the shelf the thaumascope had been previously resting on. The shelves above it were crowded with scrolls and sheets of unused parchment. “Good thing I moved it, though. That could’ve been nasty.”

Twilight frowned at the ruined thaumascope, still hovering in a force field. Though lack of oxygen had choked out the flames, the metal casing still glowed dully. And then there was what she had felt. Right before the thaumascope went haywire, the barely noticeable tingle in her horn had ramped up to a very noticeable itch. The last time she’d felt that was when standing beside Princess Celestia as she raised the Sun. “Spike, get me everything we have on spontaneous magical discharge.”

Spike blinked. “You think it might’ve actually been a magical field that did this?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Twilight snapped. “But maybe we can figure it out before it happens again.”

Scrape… scrape… scrape…

Shining Armour twitched an ear against the sound. Who or what was making that? Couldn’t they see he was trying to sleep? He tried to shut it out of his head, but the scraping continued.

Scrape… scrape… scrape…

All right. If the sound had continued for that long, whatever was making it had to be right there. Mice and similar vermin were unheard of in Canterlot Castle, so it had to be somepony being plain inconsiderate. Didn’t they know that he needed to rest if he was to chase down that thing Celestia had—

His eyes shot wide open as memory crashed into his head. Horseapples! How much time did I lose? He sat bolt upright, trying to gauge the time by the angle of the sun—and squeezed his eyes shut, clutching at his head and groaning as pain lanced through his skull. From the feel of it, a bandage had been wrapped around his head.

“Oh, bloody excellent. You’re awake.”

Shining looked to where the voice had come from, blinking in surprise as he recognized Fairweather. A few well-worn files and lumps of stone sat on a nearby table, giving him some clue as to where the scraping had come from.

“They went an’ told me you needed a wee bit o’ rest,” Fairweather continued conversationally, frowning at a misshapen lump of stone in his hooves. With a stretch of the imagination, one might say it had the shape of a bird in flight. A very wild stretch. And a severe case of myopia.

“How long has it been?” Shining rasped. His throat felt like it had been coated with sand.

“You’ve been out for about a full day. You should 'ave woken up sooner, but th’ quacks did something to make you sleep longer.”

“A whole—” Shining sputtered, and threw the covers aside. “I don’t have time to rest. That thing could be anywhere by now!”

A hoof suddenly pressed into his chest. Shining glared upwards at Fairweather’s face. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

“Don’t make me laugh, boy,” Fairweather said, his previous joviality gone. “You ne’er bested me e’en when you were at your best. Now lay back down. I’d rather no’ add to what you took earlier.”

Reluctantly, Shining laid back. “What happened? Something went wrong with Princess Celestia’s spell, and… I must have gotten knocked out.”

Fairweather grunted, and went to a table on the far wall, pouring a glass of water from a pitcher. “You were lucky to e’en survive, much less get off with a rattled skull. The ‘ole bloody room nearly collapsed.”

Shining tried to sit up, but the earlier surge of adrenaline had worn off, and his limbs failed him. “What happened to Celestia? And that thing in her room?”

Fairweather paused. “You and Celestia were the only ones we brought out of there.”

“Is she all right?”

The grey pegasus came back to the bedside and held the proffered the glass of water. “Drink, boy. Th’ quacks gave me specific directions t’ keep you hydrated.”

Shining pushed the glass to the side. “Is. She. All. Right?”

Fairweather looked away, sighing heavily. “You were lucky, getting blown out of the room like that. Celestia wasn’t. Three thousand pounds o’ stone… I dinnae think anything could live through that.”

Shining’s heart sank. “So… she’s…”

“Did I say she was dead, boy?” Fairweather cut in angrily. “I went in expecting th’ worst. What I found was bloody close, but both of you were still breathing. Our fair Princess won’t be making any public appearances for a while, but she’s alive.”

“What about the third?” Shining asked.

Fairweather frowned. “The third what? There was another pony in there?” He shook his head. “There was nothing there. Don’t blame yeself,” he said to Shining’s wordless protest. “Blows to th’ head rattle a bit more than the skull. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have trouble with your memory o’ that moment.”

“Fairweather, look at me.” The major sighed, and looked Shining in the eye. “Do I look like I’m making this up? There was a third pony in there. I don’t know where it came from, but whatever happened with Celestia’s spell, it caused it.”

Fairweather paused for a long moment. “When I got there, I was jus’ in time to watch the room go up. One o’ the boys thought he saw something falling, but...” He shook his head again. “I cannae see any way something could survive that fall, even if they landed in the water.” He glanced at Shining and smiled wryly, the scar twisting it into more of a friendly-looking grimace. “Then again, it does look to be a day for miracles.”

“Something tells me it wouldn’t just go and die that easily,” Shining said coldly. “That’d be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

Fairweather frowned, wings rising nervously. “If you’re right... if what you saw did that...”

Whatever he’d been about to say, he never got the chance. The door to Shining’s chambers burst open, and a midnight-blue shape stalked through. “Ah. You are awake,” Princess Luna declared, fixing her cold blue eyes on Shining Armour. “Can you walk? You are needed immediately.”

“Now hold on for one bloody moment!” Fairweather snarled, his burr thickening with anger. “Princess or no, Ah still be in charge o’ Shining here!”

Luna smiled at him, unfazed. “Major Fairweather, is it? My sister has told me about you. She said you were, and I quote, ‘an insubordinate old coot who would be living in a country home if he wasn’t too stubborn to retire.’ Is that about right?”

Fairweather’s face went a dangerous shade of purple. “Aye,” he grated. “But did she happen to mention ‘ow many times I staved off what would ‘ave been a bloody catastrophe?”

“She did, come to think of it,” Luna replied coolly. “And that you were one of the most valuable members of the Guard. As it stands, I’m inclined to agree with her.”

Fairweather looked her over levelly, and barked a short laugh. “I think we’ll get along jes’ fine, Princess.” He glanced back at Shining. “But I’m afraid Ah still cannae let you take Captain Armour from his—”

“I can walk,” Shining said quietly, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing unsteadily to prove it. Fairweather frowned in disapproval and muttered under his breath, but that was all.

He took a few shaky steps toward the door, tightening his jaw against the pain in his head and pointedly ignoring Fairweather’s grumbling. He caught something that sounded like “stubborn mule” before passing out of earshot. You’re one to talk, old friend, he thought grimly.

“You can come as well,” Luna said to Fairweather. “Someone should be close at hand to make sure Captain Armour’s legs don’t give way." The corner of her mouth twitched upward. "And I might be able to make use of your penchant for... unbiased opinions." The pegasus noticeably brightened and followed.

“So what is it?” Shining asked. “Did somepony find—”

“Not until we are alone,” Luna cut in, looking pointedly at a group of palace servants walking by.

Shining fell silent, mind racing. That could only mean one thing: Luna already knew about what he’d seen. She knew, and it scared her enough to keep it quiet.

That simple fact scared him more than anything else.

“Now Sweetie Belle, I cannot stress enough how important it is that you leave everything just the way it is. You may have your friends over if you want, but you have to promise me that you will not make a mess. Am I clear?”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “I get it, sis. But how am I supposed to get my cutie mark without doing anything? I don’t think there’s a cutie mark for not doing anything.”

Rarity mussed her younger sister’s mane, ignoring the annoyed glare the filly shot her. “Oh, please. There are plenty of things you can do that don’t involve making a mess.”

“I guess,” Sweetie Belle said, slumping dejectedly.

“Come now,” Rarity implored. “It’s not so bad. It's only for one day.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Besides, my studio is quite well soundproofed, if you know what I mean.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Sweetie Belle groaned. “C’mon, Rarity. Singing’s just a hobby. I can’t actually go anywhere with it.”

“Not with that attitude, you can’t,” Rarity replied, gathering up a folder filled with sketches. “Don’t worry. I’ll just be gone for the day. I’m sure you can occupy yourself for that long.”

“I guess,” Sweetie Belle replied, slumping dejectedly.

Rarity smiled warmly, before turning and walking out the door, taking a moment to don a massive, peacock-feather chapeau. On anypony else, it would have looked ridiculous, but Rarity had a way of making anything look good.

Sweetie Belle waited until her sister was out of sight before allowing a grin to break out across her face. Perfect! A whole day with her sister out of the house! There was no end to the amount of crusading she could get done.

Of course, not being able to leave the house or make a mess put a bit of a damper on things, but she could think of several potential activities. Now, if only she could find something to juggle…

She had just begun gathering a few balls of yarn that would be ideal when hoofbeats sounded from outside. A moment later, the silhouette of a pony appeared at the door and seemed to pause.

Sweetie Belle gasped. A customer! If she could sell a couple dresses, Rarity would be ecstatic! And she might be able to earn a salespony cutie mark while she was at it.

“Come in!” she called. “The Boutique is open!”

The bell over the door tinkled as the customer pushed his way in. It took a few moments; the pony seemed to be having trouble with the door. Sweetie Belle blinked in surprise when it finally made it in. The customer was a drably coloured stallion, who was currently looking around the store with something like bored disinterest.

Sweetie Belle frowned. Stallions usually didn’t come into the Boutique. In fact, she wasn’t sure Rarity had ever designed anything for stallions. Besides that, the stallion looked just plain odd. His face was too long, the eyes didn’t look right, and the colour of his coat wasn’t something she’d ever seen on a pony before. Still, Cheerilee had always said never to judge somepony by how they looked.

“Good morning, sir!” she said jovially. “Might I interest you in a couple… um… dresses? You know, for your special somepony?”

The stallion swung his head around and fixed her with a blank stare. Sweetie Belle fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling far too much like an insect on one of Twilight’s microscope slides.

“Um… are you looking for something else?”

He ignored her and walked to the other end of the store, surveying Rarity’s workbench, which at the moment was a mess of fabric. “I-if you want, I can ask my sister to design something for you,” Sweetie Belle stammered nervously. “She’s the one that makes all this.”

The stallion gave no indication that he’d even heard. Instead, he bent over and sniffed at a bolt of Chantilly lace that Rarity had left out.

Sweetie Belle’s frown deepened. Sure, Rarity had occasionally told her about rich “eccentrics” who came into the boutique, but this was getting ridiculous. Her gaze fell onto the stallion’s flank, and her jaw dropped. “You’re a blank flank too?” she burst out.

The stallion’s head swung toward her, and she shrunk back. “I’m sorry if you’re sensitive about it, but... I haven’t gotten my cutie mark either. I just thought...” She trailed off. Wait. This stallion was fully grown. Did that mean she might not get her cutie mark until she was old?

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as the door swung open behind her. She swung around, surprised to see Rarity walking through the door.

“I know, I said I’d be gone for the day,” she said. “But I forgot one of my design books. Fancy Pants did ask to see my full portfolio. Luckily, I remembered before I boarded the…”

Rarity trailed off as she noticed the stallion hovering over her workbench. “Sweetie Belle,” she said in an odd voice. “Why is there a stallion eating my Chantilly lace?”

Sweetie Belle wheeled around. Sure enough, the stallion was staring back at them, chewing thoughtfully, the bolt of lace hanging from his mouth. “Um…” she deadpanned. “Maybe he’s hungry?”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed. “He’s hungry,” she said quietly.

Uh oh, Sweetie Belle thought.

“He’s hungry?” Rarity shrieked, turning her blazing eyes toward the stallion, who was still standing there, utterly oblivious to either of them.

The stallion turned its doleful gaze on Rarity, swallowing the last bit of lace.

Rarity’s eye twitched. “That lace had to be specially imported from Prance,” she whispered.

She turned to her younger sister, obviously struggling to keep herself under control. “Sweetie Belle? Be a dear and go outside, will you? Preferably well out of earshot.”

The filly hesitated, and while she did, the stallion lowered its head and began munching on another bolt of lace. A loud snapping sound could be heard from somewhere inside Rarity’s head, and her horn lit with magic. “Get your face out of that, you stinking piece of—"

Sweetie Belle all but fled the boutique, doing her best to seal her ears, as her normally dignified older sister let loose with a blistering tirade of obscenities that would have made a Diamond Dog wince. A moment later, Rarity’s profanities were punctuated by a chorus of alarming smashes and crunches.

Sweetie Belle clapped her hooves over her ears and did her very best to sink into the ground, become invisible, or some combination of both.

A moment later, the stallion crashed through the plate-glass window at the store’s front, snorting wildly. He stumbled as he landed, and galloped off out of sight.

She turned back to the boutique, which Rarity was just stumbling out of, her mane disheveled and filled with wood splinters. “Well, that’s the end of that,” she spat.

Sweetie Belle took a hesitant step forward, noticing that her sister was swaying on her hooves. “Uh…are you okay?”

Rarity blinked. “What a perfectly ridiculous question, Sweetie Belle. I’ve never felt...” Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she collapsed in a dead faint.

The stallion continued to run, panic fueling its strides. Something had gone wrong, but he couldn’t quite reason out what. He knew it had something to do with a stab of pain in his right foreleg, at least.

The four-legs here had smelled friendly. So why were they being not friendly?

With a snort, he turned toward another smell he’d noticed. There was a hint of more friendly four-legs coming from that direction. Besides, they smelled like apples. He liked apples.

Leaving the Boutique behind him, he set out.

Chapter 2

For the entirety of the walk to Luna’s chambers, Shining stayed silent. Luna was obviously reluctant to say anything until they were private, so there was no point in pressing. Fairweather, on the other hoof, grumbled under his breath the entire way. From what Shining could catch, he supposed he should have been glad that the major had at least toned down his usual language.

Abruptly his hoof caught on a section of the floor that was slightly higher than the rest, and he stumbled. The sudden movement made the floor lurch nauseatingly under his hooves. Fairweather’s grumbling cut off, and he immediately clapped a bracing hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “You sure you can manage?” he asked. “Ah won’t have you keelin’ over on me.”

“I’m fine,” Shining muttered, swallowing back the tide of bile that had risen in his throat. Horsefeathers! It’s my head that I hurt. Why the hay do I feel sick to my stomach?

He looked back up, and inadvertently met Luna’s gaze. For a moment, he thought he saw concern in her eyes, but in an instant the grim mask was back across her face. “Keep up,” she said briskly. “Time is short, and there is much to discuss.”

Fairweather stuck his tongue out at her back in reply.

Finally, they arrived at an unadorned set of oak doors. Luna pushed one open and motioned them in.

Shining stepped in and blinked, his eyes momentarily dazzled. Sunlight slanted in through a large window in the ceiling, and a series of mirrors reflected it into one focused spot. In that spot was a slumped and bruised Princess Celestia.

At Luna’s voice, Celestia lifted her head. Her mane still retained its prismatic hue, but it hung listlessly instead of flowing. Her right cheek was marred by a series of scrapes, and her sides and back were heavily bruised. When she saw them, though, she smiled, and her eyes held the same determination and wisdom that they always did.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, shifting slightly. Her wings moved, and Shining glimpsed a series of bandages wound around the barrel of her chest. Celestia followed his gaze. “Three broken ribs, two cracked,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken far worse.”

She paused for a moment. “Now, did my sister tell you why I sent for you?”

“No,” Shining replied. “But I have a pretty good idea it has something to do with what was in your quarters last night.”

Luna laid down in a corner, glowering at Celestia. The Princess returned her sister’s glare with a weak smile. Luna’s face remained carved from stone.

Celestia’s smile faded, and she looked back at Shining and Fairweather. “You’re right,” she said simply. “I have already spoken at length with my sister on this topic, and we have come to an agreement. I had hoped to keep the details of this matter quiet, but I don't believe that's possible now."

She looked over at Fairweather. "From the look on your face, Major, you are expecting some explanation. Unfortunately, I have little to give you. What I can tell you is that Shining is correct. A being of unknown power appeared in my quarters, and is likely roaming outside the city as we speak."

“But what is it?” Shining asked. “Where did it come from? How did it do...” Lost for words, he waved his hoof at Celestia in a gesture that took in her injuries.

“I wish I had an answer for you,” she replied. “But I do not. Frankly, I have no idea what this entity is capable of, or what its motivations are.” She hesitated. “Normally, I would have given this assignment to somepony else, and left you time to recover. But you are one of the few I trust to handle such a delicate matter. My sister will accompany you, and I will let you pick six more guards you trust.”

“Only six?” Shining replied. “Princess, did you see what it did? Think about that, and tell me why I shouldn’t commit three companies to hunting it down.”

“And how are we going to explain that?” Celestia shot back. “Do you know what my ponies would do if they knew what was among them? They would panic, and this entity would be lost in the confusion. Or take advantage and worsen the situation. The point is, we don’t know what could happen, and so we will proceed with caution.”

For some reason, that earned a snort of derision from Luna.

“I want eight guards,” Shining replied. “A full squadron. That gives me your six, plus room for a medic and a tracker.” His mind raced as he said that, already compiling a list of possible candidates.

“Very well,” Celestia said, shifting again. “Now go. We don’t have much time to lose, and I’m not sure I can stay awake for much longer. I need to rest, and heal.”

“I will meet you in the courtyard in one hour,” Luna instructed. “Do not be late.”

“One last question,” Shining asked. “When we find it... what should we do?”

At that moment, Celestia’s face became something else. It was still the same, but now it seemed cold, as if carved from granite. “I want it secured and brought back to me. Use whatever means you deem necessary. Do not return until you have that thing shackled!”

Shining hesitated for a long moment. “I understand,” he finally said. “But I think I deserve to know just what it is that I’m dealing with.”

Celestia sighed. “I wish I could tell you,” she said quietly.

That almost gave Shining pause. Almost. Cowardice was not a trait found among members of the Royal Guard. Without another word, he bowed and left.

Luna stared thoughtfully after Shining and Fairweather as they left, but held her tongue until the door had closed. Even then, she waited for a count of ten before turning to her sister. “You didn’t tell them,” she said flatly.

Celestia laughed mirthlessly, and then winced as pain shot through her ribs. “Would you care to explain to them what happened yesterday? Even I am unsure.”

“I can tell you exactly what happened!” Luna snapped. “You were reckless! After all your talk about caution and pacing, you still leapt before you were ready! And look what came of it!”

“You think I don’t regret this?” Celestia replied icily. “We have both made mistakes, sister, some more costly than others. The past cannot be changed, and so we move on and try to make the best of it.” She looked toward the door. "Besides, a little knowledge can be more dangerous than none."

Luna turned away. "I do not like this approach," she said. "After what that thing did, you want to bring it back? 'Tis the very height of folly!"

"I have worked for too long on this," Celestia hissed. "We have worked for too long to let it go at the first sign of trouble."

"The ponies of this time have an expression I rather like," Luna retorted. "'Cut your losses.' Sometimes, the risk is simply not worth it."

Celestia transfixed her sister with an icy stare. "I do not wish to cut my losses, Luna. Not yet."

Luna broke eye contact. "Very well," she grated. "But if I deem that the situation calls for it, I will not hesitate to do what needs to be done."

She stormed out before Celestia could say a word.

“Find anything yet?”

Twilight let out a heavy sigh, and slammed the book closed. “No,” she replied. “Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I might have skimmed over exactly what I needed for all I know.”

Spike closed the book he was reading, marking his page with a claw. “Aren’t you just looking for information on big magic blasts?”

Twilight glanced back at her stacks of discarded books. “Okay, maybe I didn’t phrase that right. I found plenty on high-energy discharges, but nothing even close to the intensity of what I recorded. And those were always the result of something obvious, like a celestial alignment or a realignment of thaumatic fields.”

Spike blinked. “You could have left it at ‘nothing that big.’”

“What are you reading, anyway?” Twilight asked, glancing over.

“I thought this was a science-fiction book,” he replied, going back to his page. “I mean, with a title like ‘Multiverses’, what else would you think? But it’s actually a book on some kind of scientific mumbo-jumbo. Some of it’s interesting, but I can’t understand a lot of it.”

“Who’s it by?”

Spike glanced at the inside cover. “Some pony named Inverse Tangent.”

Twilight tried to hold back a laugh, and succeeded only in snorting. “What’s so funny?” Spike asked.

“Tangent was the classic example of a mad scientist,” Twilight replied, still chuckling. “I didn’t even know we had one of her books. Even when she was alive, ponies thought she was crazy.”

“And was she?”

“The line between genius and insanity is defined only by success,” Twilight quoted. “But in Tangent’s case... yeah. She was a Grade-A screwball. She became a bit infamous for her theories thirty years or so ago, and then vanished.”

Spike looked down at the page he’d marked. “Guess that explains why I barely understand this.”

Twilight smiled, taking the book. “Quantum theory is hard enough to understand when it’s written by somepony in their right mind. What’d you manage to get out of it?”

Spike shrugged. “It didn’t make a lot of sense, but... she wrote something about quantum foam, whatever that means. She talked about it a lot in that one chapter.”

Twilight snorted. “Some ponies think the entire universe is pocked with tiny, tiny holes. That’d be what she was talking about. A few theories say we might be able to use them to make wormholes, but that’s mostly been dismissed.”

“That’s another thing she wrote about!” Spike said, brightening. “That’s one passage I could actually figure out. Except instead of moving something within a universe, she talked about moving something from another one. That’s where I got lost. Isn’t there only one universe?”

“Technically, there’s one, and technically, there’s an infinite number,” Twilight replied. “An infinite number of universes, representing an infinite number of possibilities. In some, there are only minor differences. In others... well, you might have a universe where Nightmare Moon won, or never existed in the first place. Or another where none of us exist. Or one where we exist, but magic doesn’t.” She shook her head. "Of course, it's all theory. Nopony's managed to prove that."

“Huh,” Spike said blandly. “There’s one thing I don’t get, though. How can you move something through a hole so tiny, it’s impossible to see?”

“Just make the hole bigger,” Twilight replied. She rubbed at her temples. Staring at books for hours on end had given her a headache, and her head was almost audibly pounding. “The problem is, nopony’s figured out how. That, and the amount of magic required for it would be unthinkable. You’d have to...” She trailed off.

Spike’s eyes widened as he reached the same conclusion. “Do you think that’s what that big magical discharge was?”

“I... I don’t know,” Twilight stammered. “If anypony was even considering attempting it, I’d have heard! You’d need dozens... hundreds of powerful unicorns working in tandem!”

Spike suddenly cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

Twilight shook her head. “Ignore it. It’s just my headache.”

Spike frowned. “Uh... that doesn’t make any sense. That sounds more like thunder.”

Blinking in confusion, Twilight looked outside. Sure enough, it had clouded over, and thunder rumbled in the distance. “Huh,” she said. “So it is.” For some reasons, those clouds gave her a few misgivings. What’s wrong with a thunderstorm? We get them every now and then.

“Hang on,” Spike said. “Wasn’t it supposed to be sunny all day today?”

Twilight frowned at the clouds. That explained the odd feeling. “I think so. Maybe somepony made a mistake?” The walls creaked slightly as the tree swayed in the rising wind.

Spike snorted. “Rainbow’s lazy, but even she wouldn’t let the forecast be this off.”

Outside, a rainbow blur shot by, accompanied by a series of shouted obscenities. “Speak of the devil,” Twilight muttered, going outside.

She peered up into the sky, shivering against a sudden cold breeze that blew past. “Hey, Rainbow Dash!” she called.

The pegasus in question stopped in mid-flight, panting. “Oh, hey Twilight. Sorry, but I really can’t talk right now.”

Twilight frowned as Dash flew off a short distance and struggled to push a large, dark cloud to the side. “What’s the problem?” she shouted over the wind.

Rainbow didn’t respond, instead moving the cloud a short distance to the reservoir and furiously kicking it a few times, sending its contents deluging into the pool.

When the pegasus flew past again, Twilight repeated herself.

“The stupid clouds aren’t listening,” Dash said, scowling. “The whole weather team’s going nuts! If it weren’t for me, we’d be swimming by now!”

“What do you mean, they’re not listening?” Twilight asked.

“Just that!” Rainbow snapped. “They’re tough to get a grip on for some reason, and as soon as you let go they just do whatever they—hey! Come back here!”

She streaked off after another dark cloud that was hovering ominously over Sugarcube Corner. Her first couple passes had no effect, but she finally managed to snag it.

A moment later, she reappeared, dragging the cloud behind her. “Listen, Twilight,” she said between gritted teeth. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to concentrate right now. Oh, and…”

She gave the cloud one last shove and descended. “I've instructed the team to tell everypony to stay inside. We’re doing our best, but things might get a little hairy.”

Twilight stepped forward. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Please,” Dash begged. “I really appreciate the offer, but the best thing you can do is stay out of our—hey! Thunder Lane! The reservoir’s over there!”

“I’m trying!” the grey pegasus shouted back, struggling against a towering cumulonimbus that had just come into view. “I can’t stop it!”

Rainbow gritted her teeth. “For the love of—I gotta go, Twilight.” She streaked off without another word. For a moment, Twilight was tempted to stay out and help, but at that moment, a driving rain started to pour down, soaking her to the skin. The few ponies out in the streets shouted in surprise and ran for cover, practically diving into whatever shops were open. Within a couple moments, Twilight was alone.

She lingered for a moment longer, looking quizzically at the clouds. This wasn’t right. She’d never seen clouds fighting against weather ponies’ efforts before.

Lightning suddenly struck somewhere nearby with a thunderous detonation that rattled the windows in the library. Twilight swallowed and beat a hasty retreat back inside. She closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm, and stood there for a moment, dripping.

What in the world is going on?

Applejack flinched involuntarily as lightning struck again in the distance. It was supposed to have been sunny all day, for the love of Celestia! She’d been meaning to go out and get some pruning done in the east field when the storm had rolled in out of nowhere.

Big Macintosh looked up from the book he was reading, candlelight reflecting off the reading glasses perched on his muzzle.

Applejack sighed. “Don’t say it. Ah ain’t nervous.”

Macintosh smiled slightly. For him, that was the equivalent of an ear-to-ear grin. “Remember when you were a filly, and hid under the bed whenever it started to cloud over?”

“That was when Ah was four,” Applejack shot back. “Ah’m a mite older than that now.”

Her brother shrugged and went back to his book. Applejack glared at him. “Ah ain’t scared of lightnin’ no more! What do Ah have to say to make you believe—”

With a deafening concussion, lightning hit a spruce tree near the house. Applejack shrieked and barely stopped herself from taking cover under the table. She quickly averted her eyes, avoiding her brother’s amused stare. “Ah’m gonna see if that hit anything important,” she declared, fighting to keep her voice steady. How had Macintosh not jumped at that? It sounded like a bomb going off in her ear!

Applejack straightened and went over to the window, pretending her knees weren’t shaking. She’s gotten over her fear of thunderstorms years ago! If her knees were shaking, it had to be from inactivity. Being cooped up all afternoon wasn’t good for anypony.

Upon looking outside, any thoughts of her once-phobia vanished. She let out a groan upon seeing the wreckage of the spruce tree. The lightning had struck midway down the tree, shattering the trunk and making the top ten metres fall across the dirt road leading to the farm, which—as if to add insult to injury—was well on its way to flooding.

“What’s wrong?” Macintosh asked from behind her.

“That spruce beside the road fell down,” Applejack grunted. “We’re gonna have some fun cleanin’ that up.”

“Ah liked that tree,” Macintosh grumbled.

Applejack frowned out the window. Was that a pony out in the rain, taking shelter under a tree? What pony in his or her right mind would be outside in this kind of weather? And, for that matter, what pony wouldn’t know how dangerous it was to stay near a tall tree in a thunderstorm?

“What’re you looking at?”

“Can you go on up and check on Apple Bloom?” Applejack replied. “Looks like somepony’s out there.”

Macintosh didn’t respond, but a moment later she heard his heavy hoofsteps behind her. Applejack remained at the window, loath to take her gaze of the pony in case she couldn’t find him again. She rubbed at the glass with an ankle. Her breath was fogging it.

Her brother walked back to her side. “She’s still there,” he said quietly. “Sound asleep. Where’s the pony?”

Applejack pointed. “Straight out there, under the old oak.”

“Ah see him,” Macintosh said.

“Him?”

“That’s a stallion. Too heavy to be a mare.”

Applejack shook her head. From there, she could barely make out an outline. Then again, Macintosh’s eyes had always been better than hers at distance. Farsightedness, Twilight had called it.

“That ain’t a good spot for him.”

Applejack swallowed. “Ah’m going out. There’s no way Ah’m leaving a pony out in this.”

“You sure you don’t want me to go?”

Applejack snapped her head over and glared at him. What, did he think she didn’t have the guts to go out there? So she jumped at lightning strikes. That didn’t make her a coward!

His eyes shone with concern. She tore her gaze away, hating it. “Ah’m sure,” she grated, ignoring her voice’s quaver at the end of the word.

And that was how she found herself picking her way through the flooded road, mane soaked despite the oiled cloak slung over her, nervously eyeing the sky for lightning she knew she wouldn’t see until it was too late. As she got closer, the stallion—she could see that, now that she was closer—swung his head up and turned liquid eyes on her. His mane was soaked and plastered to his neck, and his coat matted with dirt. Applejack instantly felt sorry for him.

“You all right?” she asked, having to shout over the pounding rain.

The stallion gave no response, only shifted position slightly. Applejack suddenly noticed that he was favouring his right foreleg.

She shook her head. “Come on,” she said. “You can stay in the barn until this blows over. T’ain’t much, but it’s clean. And Ah’ll get someone to look at that leg.”

The stallion didn’t move. He just nickered nervously and huddled closer to the trunk of the tree. Applejack was seized by a sudden vision of lightning striking it, sending a massive charge into the ground and dropping the pony where he stood.

“Listen,” she said nervously. “This isn’t a good place for you. Ah know that leg hurts, but if lightning strikes here, you won’t be walking away from it.”

Something was wrong. Most ponies, unless they were utterly exhausted, would have responded by now. And this stallion’s eyes were clear and alert. That, and he just didn’t look right. She couldn’t quite place it, but it just seemed off.

Finally, she saw it. Her eyes widened. “Dear Celestia, what are you?”

Chapter 3

An unseasonably cold wind blew through Canterlot, and the rumble of distant thunder rippled through the air. Fairweather lifted his head, looking out at the dark clouds massing over the horizon. The storm seemed to have come out of nowhere, blooming out of a clear sky.

He shook his head, returning his attention to the small hole he was digging with a trowel. Nearby, an aged earth pony watering some plants glanced at him and gave him a friendly nod. Fairweather nodded back, carefully scraping a small amount of earth off the sides of the even, perfectly circular hole in the soft loam.

To his side sat a potted orchid, purchased minutes before from a street vendor. Dozens of others like it bloomed around him, in hues of red, blue and purple, as they should be. He’d been carefully planting them here for nearly twenty years, every time he’d had to leave Canterlot on a mission or for some other purpose.

The earth pony moved to another patch of plants, whistling merrily. He didn’t even know Fairweather’s name, but he knew him well enough to know he wanted to be left alone while planting one of his orchids.

With slow, precise motions, Fairweather lifted the orchid out of the pot and deposited it in the hole he’d dug. As usual, it was a perfect fit. He’d had a fair amount of practice getting the holes just right.

That done, he let out a heavy sigh and looked at the plain headstone in the middle of his cluster of orchids. His hooves suddenly ached for a piece of soapstone and a file, but he wrestled the urge down.

I know it’s been a while, he thought, addressing the headstone. I didn’t forget. I just haven’t been here.

His armour and kit lay in a neat bundle a few strides behind him. The chestpiece almost didn’t fit him any more, but he’d been able to punch a new hole into the canvas straps to loosen it some. I’m getting soft in my old age, he thought, chuckling to himself.

His ears perked up at hoofsteps somewhere behind him. Fairweather looked behind him, blinking in surprise when he saw Shining Armour picking his way between the headstones. When the he saw him, the Captain ducked his head, ears flattening. “We’re due at the courtyard in a few minutes,” he said. “But if this is a bad time...”

Fairweather glanced back at the headstone. “No, lad,” he sighed.

Shining shifted uncomfortably. “Are you sure? Because I can come back later, and—”

“Ah don’ recall stuttering,” Fairweather snapped. “This be as good a time as any.” He looked back at the headstone. “Ah was just saying goodbye. Just in case Ah... just in case.”

It was a simple thing, really, saying goodbye. Why had he never had a chance when she was alive?

“If you need more time, just say it,” Shining said. “I know you miss her.”

“Ah had my time with her,” Fairweather snapped. “And now it’s over. No getting it back, so there’s nothing left to do but move on.” To prove his words, he stood, taking the trowel and the discarded flowerpot under a wing. He slung his kit over his back and strode past his friend, putting the grave behind him.

He didn’t have to see the look on Shining’s face to know where his thoughts were. They were back in the Crystal Empire with his wife. Had he said goodbye before he left?

“Who did you find t' bring along?” Fairweather asked, breaking the silence that had sprung up between them.

“I found a few willing guards, and a decent tracker.” Shining replied, still gazing to the north. “We have our full squad, at least. A medic, too. He gave me something for my head.”

Fairweather grunted. “You should ‘ave let me worry about it. Your noggin’s taken enough abuse today.” After a moment, Shining's words registered fully. "Wait, you found a tracker? How in blazes did you manage that?"

“It wasn’t as hard as you might think,” Shining replied, rounding the corner and entering the palace’s east courtyard. Inside, eight ponies stood at ease, kits spread around the immediate area.

Fairweather stopped dead, staring at the assembled ponies. “You didn’t,” he breathed.

One of the ponies, a pegasus mare, looked over at him. She was the only one without armour. “Officer on deck!” she shouted. The other guards glanced over, cutting themselves off midword, and quickly assembled into a line, snapping crisp salutes.

Fairweather shot a disbelieving look at Shining, who responded with a slight smile. “Are these...?”

“The other guards in my cadet group?” Shining replied. “Yes. You were a sergeant, last they saw you.”

Fairweather ran down the line of guards, finally stopping on a massive blue earth pony with more scar tissue on him than skin. “Dear stars, Patchwork. They made you a medic?”

The ex-bouncer bared his teeth in a grin with more gaps in it than anything else. “Turns out I’ve a good hoof with needle and thread,” he replied. “Comes from stitching myself up so much.”

Fairweather shook his head and continued down the line. The mare that had announced him straightened slightly when he approached, but he continued on without a word. “They’ll do,” he said simply.

“I certainly hope so,” Luna said, striding out of the shadows.

Shining stiffened and took a step back. Fairweather stifled a chuckle. He couldn’t blame the unicorn. Having a Princess walk out of nowhere right beside you had to be an unsettling experience.

Luna surveyed the group. Where they had stood proudly under Fairweather’s examination, under Luna’s they seemed to shrink. “Are these the best you could find?” she asked Shining.

“Absolutely not,” he replied. “But I trust them all, and that’s the important thing.”

She sniffed and walked past the guards. “I trust that Shining Armour has briefed you. If he has not, simply know that we are pursuing a very valuable and potentially dangerous quarry. Which among you is a tracker?”

“That’d be me,” the mare spoke up in a slight, nearly undetectable burr.

Luna glanced at her. “Our quarry was last seen plummeting from my sister’s chambers into the Ice River. I trust that you will be able to guide us from there.”

The mare grinned. “You’re talking to Trail Blaze here. If it walks, runs or flies, I can track it.”

The grin slipped right off her face when Luna turned away without a word. “We have no time to lose,” she said. “Move out.”

While the others were shouldering their packs and tightening armour straps, Fairweather strode to Blaze’s side. “What are ye doing here?” he hissed. “Shining gave me the idea that he only took guards.”

Blaze bristled. “I happened to be near the palace to hand in some paperwork. Shining recognized me and asked me to come along. Simple as that.”

“There’s still the issue of you bein' a civilian,” Fairweather pointed out. “If you get hurt, it’s on me.”

“You’re being overprotective again,” Blaze retorted. “I’ve been in plenty of hairy situations in the field. I’m sure I can take care of myself.”

“Ah don’t doubt that,” Fairweather replied. “Not one bit.”

“Then why are you worried?”

Fairweather sighed. “When your mother died, I... I promised no' to let anything happen to you. I cannae keep that promise if—”

“If I keep getting myself in trouble,” Blaze finished. “I know.” She flashed him a lopsided grin. “Tell you what. When things get ugly, I’ll go the other way. No heroism from me. Happy?”

Shaking his head, Fairweather clapped his daughter on the shoulder. “Ah would be if Ah didnae know you were lying.” He glanced toward the others. “Let’s go. You’ve got a target to track.” And now I have a daughter to worry about. You owe me for this, Shining.

Wet, shivering and exhausted, Rainbow Dash glided toward the weather headquarters in Cloudsdale. Far behind her, the storm over Ponyville seethed darkly, sheet lightning flickering between the clouds.

“Stupid Blossomforth,” she muttered under her breath as she landed, wings shaking from overexertion. “Stupid microburst. Stupid storm.” Her mind unwittingly flashed back to the incident that had brought her here in the first place. Giving up on tending the storm, returning to home base... seeing grass flattening in the field below them, calling out a warning an instant too late...

Blossomforth was now in the Ponyville hospital with a dislocated shoulder, a broken wing and a concussion. Rainbow had heard of microbursts and what they could do to a pegasus in flight, but this was the first time it had happened on her watch, and it shook her to the core.

The weather control station was in chaos when she walked in, dripping water through the cloud floor. Ponies ran and flew around, carrying topographical and atmospheric maps. Voices were raised to be heard over the frantic activity, only adding to the overall volume.

“... the hay was in charge of that warm air front? It was supposed to swing to the west, not the north! That’s what caused most of this!”

Rainbow winced, avoiding eye contact with the red-faced pegasus stallion stomping by. Thunder Head was one of those bosses that should be avoided whenever something went wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had to fill out an incident report for Blossomforth, she wouldn’t be here at all.

There. The filing cabinet with the forms was right in front of her. All she had to do was grab one unnoticed, and—

“Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow bit back a groan and turned around, meeting her boss’ blazing eyes. “Yeah?” she replied.

Thunder Head jabbed his hoof into the center of her chest. “Your team was in charge of redirecting that air front! What in the name of Cerberus’ balls happened?”

“We did redirect it,” Rainbow replied, fighting to stay calm. She’d seen employees get in shouting matches with Thunder Head, and it never ended well. “I really don’t know what happened.”

“I can tell you exactly what happened!” Thunder Head snapped. “You went and created one of the worst thunderstorms of the year! That cyclone’s thrown the schedule for the rest of the region off by weeks!”

“I didn’t create it,” Rainbow grated, her temper fraying. “The entire system went haywire! The thunderstorm practically created itself.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Thunder Head roared, a vein pulsing on his temple. “The only way a storm’s created by accident is by sheer incompetence! Don’t try and pawn your failures off on some freak acci—”

With an almost audible crack, Rainbow’s temper snapped like a poplar in a windstorm. “I did nothing wrong!” she yelled back. “That front swung back north all by itself. I’ve spent the last three hours working myself to the bone to try and stop this from getting any worse! It’s only because of me that we’re dealing with a thunderstorm right now instead of a full-on tornado!”

Rainbow shut her mouth, aware that the room had fallen silent. All eyes were on her, the pony that had dared to yell back at Thunder Head.

Her boss’ face slowly went purple. “That’ll be all,” he said quietly, before turning and walking away.

Rainbow watched him go, and then turned to the filing cabinet. Her hooves were shaking so badly that it took her three tries to get it open. The silence continued as she filled out the incident report and tossed it carelessly onto a desk. Someone would find it eventually. Whether or not they’d be able to read what she’d written was an entirely different story, and not her concern anyway.

Guess that’s my two weeks notice, she thought offhandedly. Ah, well. I’ve got some savings stored up. Let’s see how they get on without me. In the meantime, I’ve got a job to do.

The thunderstorm was only the beginning. She could feel it. When she’d been working with the team to avert the storm, everything had been more difficult. The clouds almost resisted their efforts, and by the end of it, even staying aloft was a challenge.

She looked around. The ponies around her all bore the same expression of dull shock. And none of them believed her. She could see it in their eyes. Her words were nothing but the desperate defense of a doomed employee.

They don’t believe me. That’s fine. I don’t need their help.

Nopony in the room so much as moved until she left the cloud building.

The Ice River always ran fast this time of year. Fed by both glacial meltwater and underground hot springs, the river was always just warm enough to swim in, yet always carried the chill of the mountains, giving it its name. Sediment and minerals from the glaciers high in the mountains surrounding Canterlot gave the river a translucent turquoise hue. It was bordered on on one side by forest, which thinned out to grasses and reeds as it neared the river.

Shining stuck a hoof in the river, and snatched it back, hissing. Just warm enough to swim in. As in just warm enough to avoid instant hypothermia. To think that in the autumn, when the river’s flow had abated somewhat, ponies actually went floating down the river for therapeutic purposes. The mineral-rich water was apparently very good for the skin.

I’ll take dry skin over freezing water any day, Shining thought, shaking a few drops off his hoof.

Farther downriver, Blaze was picking her way through the growth on the river’s banks. Only the movement of the tall grasses and reeds marked her passage.

For a moment, Shining wondered if the pegasus mare was actually capable of tracking something over a day gone, but then reminded himself of what she did for a living. Blaze was a field operative for Canterlot’s conservation authority, in charge of tracking and tagging endangered wildlife. Her last project had been collecting observations on the Everfree’s timberwolves. How she'd managed to do so and remain intact was a mystery to him, but she’d done it.

To the side, Fairweather watched his daughter work, pointedly not looking at Shining. He was talking quietly with Luna about something, but Shining couldn’t even catch a whisper. Luna must have put up some kind of sound-dampening spell.

Blaze suddenly let out a shout. In response, Fairweather’s ears went flat and he took to the air midword, streaking to where the shout had come from. Shining followed an instant later, his heart pounding. Collapses along the bank were common this time of year, and he knew from experience that pegasi weren’t good swimmers. If Blaze had fallen in...

He crashed through the bush and skidded to a halt when an upraised hoof almost struck him in the muzzle. “Not another step,” Blaze snapped, peering intently at something on the ground.

Shining’s terror vanished, replaced by sheepishness. “I thought you’d...”

“So did my dad, apparently,” Blaze replied, glancing up to where Fairweather circled. “Seriously, it’s bad enough with just him looking out for me. And at least he knows to keep to the sky. You’re standing in stinging nettles, by the way.”

Shining glanced down. “No I’m not...” As soon as he opened his mouth, his legs started to burn. He carefully moved to the side, although the burning feeling remained. Now that he had a better angle, he could see what had made Blaze shout in what he now realized was triumph. The river bent slightly, creating a small outcropping of sediment. A few reeds beside it were flattened, and hoofprints were sunk into the soft earth. From any other angle, it was nearly invisible.

“This is where he got out of the river,” Blaze explained. “Judging from the depth of the prints, it must be a stallion—either that, or a really fat mare.” She continued on, casting a critical eye over the prints, which grew fainter as they moved farther from the river. “Not much distance between the prints here. He wasn’t moving quickly. I wouldn’t be, either. Almost drowning never put me in much of a running mood.”

She walked past Shining as if he wasn’t even there. Overhead, Fairweather made one final circle and returned to where the other guards were waiting. “He laid down here for a little while,” she said, indicating a patch of flattened underbrush under a tree. “Catching his breath. From there...” Blaze bared her teeth in a feral grin. “Oh, it’s like he’s not even trying. This guy doesn’t have a chance.”

Shining followed her gaze, frowning. All he saw was leaf litter and an uneven forest floor. “You, uh... found a trail?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Blaze replied, walking along the trail it seemed only she could see. “Get the others. I’ll lead the way.”

A knock sounded at the entrance to Luna’s chambers. “Come in,” Celestia said, stifling a yawn. The sun was starting to go down, and without the rush of energy it gave, her bone-numbing exhaustion made itself known with a deafening clamour.

A blue unicorn in a tattered lab coat tentatively pushed the door open, shaking his wild mane out of his eyes. “Sorry to disturb you,” he said, “But I’ve found something odd. I need a second opinion.”

Celestia nodded. “Go on.”

The unicorn, a member of her personal research team whose name she couldn’t recall for the life of her, hesitated. “Well, I decided to go up to your chambers to have a look around. Scan it for magical resonance, and all that.”

Stiffening, Celestia gestured for him to continue. Her and Luna had been trying to keep their little experiment quiet, mainly because of the public outcry that was sure to come as a result. They couldn’t understand what drove them. If this pony had figured something out...

“What did you find?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice neutral.

“That’s exactly it,” he replied. “I didn’t find anything. No residues of any kind.”

Celestia frowned. That was unexpected. “What do you mean?”

“Just that. I didn’t even feel background resonance. Your entire room was... well, for lack of a better word, it was a void.”

“Interesting,” Celestia said carefully. What in the world did that mean? She'd drawn enough power to lay waste for miles! How could there be no resonance whatsoever?

“Your Highness, with all due respect...” The unicorn transfixed her with his intense cobalt eyes. “What happened up there?”

“I...” What was she supposed to say? “I don’t remember.”

The unicorn’s expression softened. “Can’t blame you, I guess. Head injuries have a way of doing that.”

“Do you have any idea what it means?” Celestia asked.

“Not a clue,” the unicorn replied. “I can’t think of anything that’d do that. It’s like something just... cancelled all the magic out.” Celestia flinched. The unicorn saw the slip and looked back up. “You sure you don’t remember anything?”

“If I knew what happened up there,” Celestia said truthfully, “I’d tell you. Now, I must rest.”

The unicorn bowed and backed out. “... see what the other guys think,” Celestia heard him mutter on the way out.

She sank back on the cushions, trying to recall exactly what had happened. The moment that thing had touched her spell, the whole thing had unraveled. No, it had recoiled.

Celestia shivered. For some reason, remembering that afternoon made her feel cold. Not the chill of a cold day; something far deeper than that. The lightless, heatless cold of an utter void.

Her heart jumped into her throat. Luna! Her sister was well versed in magical attacks and entrapments. If she located her target and used one of them...

She leapt out of bed and staggered to Luna's study, feeling the effects of leaving the sunlight instantly. Pain shot through her side with every step, but she ignored it. Luna had to be warned.

She reached Luna's desk and yanked open the first drawer that came within reach, pulling it out completely and spilling parchment all over the floor. She dug through the pile for a blank sheet and, forcing magic through her horn, levitated a quill from the desk's surface. When she finally found a blank sheet, she hunched over it and began scribbling. It took a massive effort of will to make the quill move the way she wanted it to, making each letter a challenge.

Finally, it was done. She hastily blew on the ink, counting the seconds as she waited for it to dry. That done, she forced magic through her horn one last time into a teleportation spell.

At that moment, the sun sank below the horizon. Every ounce of strength she had left fled from her, and utter exhaustion settled over her like a crushing weight. She felt the magic fade from her grasp, and the desk rose up to meet her.

No... she thought, fighting her traitorous body to stay awake. Against her will, her eyes drifted shut.

To the south, the storm continued to roil. Its fury was spent, but it seemed that the land was still holding its breath. Watching. Waiting.

For this was only the beginning.

Chapter 4

About halfway through the night, the thunderstorm stopped, as suddenly as it had come. Within an hour, the clouds had broken up, their fury spent, allowing the stars to shine again. Shining Armour glanced nervously up at the sky as he drove in another tent peg, half-expecting it to cloud back over, or for lightning to strike from the clear sky. He wouldn’t have been surprised; over the last couple hours, lightning had struck around them furiously, igniting fires in the grass that were almost immediately extinguished by the pounding rain.

Shining shook his head and drove another tent peg into the soggy ground, looking for anything to distract him from his thoughts. And from the headache that was starting up behind his eyes.

“You look like you’re waiting to be executed,” Fairweather said dryly from behind him. “Relax. The storm’s over.”

It’s not the storm I’m worried about, Shining almost said. Instead, he just grunted, pounding in another peg. It went in almost too easily; despite them only having been there for a few minutes, the ground was already churned into a muddy mess.

Fairweather sighed. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Shining didn’t look up. “Is there any chance at all that Blaze is wrong?”

“If she said he went to Ponyville, then he went to Ponyville. Blaze… she’s a few things, but wrong isn’t usually one of them.” Fairweather fidgeted. “You know, there might be a better reason for going there. It’s a small country town, out of the way, easy to disappear in. He may just be lying low.”

Shining chuckled, slinging his bedroll into the tent. He’d already lined the floor with spruce and cedar boughs, but the damp would probably sneak in anyway. “I really wish I could believe that,” he replied. “But you know as well as I do how big a target the Elements are. They might be the only real threat to this thing! And here we are, setting up camp a league from Ponyville, for no other reason than because someone doesn’t want to cause a panic!” He realized that his voice had risen to a shout and hastily shut his mouth.

“And what was your plan?” Fairweather asked, his voice icy cold. “Charge in, all by your lonesome, and ram a lance down his throat? Endanger yourself, the mission, and everyone around you? That’s not the Captain of the Guard thinking, it’s a milk-drinking colt that read one too many fairy tales!”

Shining looked away, chastised. He tried to think of something to say to salvage his pride, but nothing came to mind.

“Listen,” Fairweather continued, more softly. “I know you’re used to trusting your instincts. But sometimes, you need to take a wee bit more care.”

“So we sit here and do nothing,” Shining replied, scowling. If there was one thing he hated, it was waiting for something to happen.

“We bide our time,” Fairweather shot back. “Luna’s searching the dreamscape every chance she gets. If an’ when she finds a trace of it, we’ll know roughly where it is. Then we can come in quickly and precisely.”

“I still think I should at least warn Twilight,” Shining said. “She deserves to know. She might even be able to help us!”

“Maybe,” Fairweather agreed. “But if we telegraph our presence, we lose our only chance.”

“And we might lose our chance if we sit here doing nothing!” Shining snapped back.

Fairweather sighed. “Ah know this is difficult for ye. It goes against every one o’ your instincts. But Ah’ve been in situations like this before.” He put a hoof on Shining’s shoulder. “Ah’m no’ asking you to agree with me. But Ah am asking you to trust me.”

Shining shook his head. “What if she’s wrong?” he asked quietly. “If she doesn’t even know what we’re chasing—”

“We’ll manage,” Fairweather cut in. “Migh’ end up being a wee bit messier than we thought, but we’ll manage.”

“I hope so,” Shining said.

Fairweather held up a hoof. “You hear that? Wingbeats.”

Shining cocked his head. “I don’t hear anything,” he replied.

“Shh…” Fairweather closed his eyes, rotating his ears. A frown crossed his scarred face. “I don’t hear it any more,” he admitted, opening his eyes. “Must have been my imagination.”

A cold gust of wind blew through the camp, and both shivered. “We should grab some shut-eye,” Fairweather remarked. “Remember what I told you, lad.” With that, he sauntered off toward his tent at the far corner of a camp, whistling jauntily through the gap in his teeth as if nothing had happened.

Shining turned toward his own tent, dreading the prospect of sleeping on the soaked ground. Everyone in the camp would be achey and irritable come morning. Just another perk of field work. At least he’d had the foresight to place his tent underneath a sizeable oak tree. The ground would be slightly drier there.

As he passed under the branches, a dark shape suddenly swung down, fastening a foreleg over his mouth. Shining’s yelp of alarm escaped weakly through his nose, and he glared up at his captor, running through a list of offensive spells…

Shining blinked, letting the magic die away. “Blaze?” he mumbled against the foreleg.

The pegasus responded by putting a hoof to her mouth in a shushing gesture. After releasing him, she leapt down from the branch with catlike grace, landing with barely a rustle. She sank low, catching his eye again, and gestured with her head to somewhere away from the camp.

“What’s going on?” Shining whispered, following her through the grasses. “What are you doing out?”

“I found something,” Blaze replied, slinking through a patch of goldenrod. The pungent pollen made Shining’s eyes water, making him glad he didn’t suffer from allergies. “You need to see this.”

“No, I mean why are you out of the camp in the first place?”

Blaze snorted. “You can go ahead and spend the night with a bunch of overmuscled, uneducated stallions if you want. I’d prefer something a little more isolated.”

“What the hay is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Now be quiet. Someone might hear us.”

“Why do we have to sneak out?” Shining asked, immediately before walking through a spider web. He stopped, biting off a curse, and raised a hoof to wipe the sticky threads from his face.

“I don’t trust Luna, Dad will want to tell her, and I don’t know anyone else,” Blaze said, carefully bending a sapling out of the way.

“You don’t really know me either,” Shining remarked.

“I know your face, your station, and your reputation,” Blaze shot back. “And while I don’t necessarily agree with everything you’ve done, you seem a little more open-minded than Fairweather. Besides, even if Dad doesn’t tell someone, I have a feeling he’ll just humour me no matter what I say. He did that when I was a kid; don’t see why he’d change his habits now.”

Shining blinked. “Fairweather? Humour you? You sure we’re talking about the same pony?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Blaze replied. “That was one of the reasons I ran away.”

“You ran away,” Shining said flatly.

“I had my reasons, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Now be quiet. We’re almost there.”

They finally came to a stop before a small hillock crested by a sizeable boulder. Lichen spiderwebbed across the rock’s surface, and a small cedar tree grew from a cleft at the top.

“So what did you find here?” Shining asked, yanking a burr out of his mane.

“I told you I’d lost the trail back there, but had a pretty good idea where it was going,” Blaze stated. “Well, I found it again.”

Shining’s heart soared. “Does it lead away from Ponyville?”

“No, it definitely leads toward Ponyville,” Blaze replied, pointing to some shallow depressions in the dirt. Shining’s spirits fell and shattered on the cold, muddy ground.

“He’s moving slowly,” Blaze continued, “And he’s wandering a bit, but he hasn’t deviated much. But I found something way more interesting over here.”

She lead Shining to a small grouping of tall, leafy, purple-flowered plants. They looked normal, except… “Has something been chewing on these?” Shining asked. “It looks like something’s been taking bites out of it.”

“That’s because our stallion did,” Blaze replied. “This is alfalfa. Not the tastiest plant out there, but it’s sweeter than plain old grass. Not bad when you fry it with some butter, either.” She reached out, snapped off an untouched sprig, and popped it in her mouth.

“So he got hungry,” Shining said dryly. “Sorry, but I’m not sure how that–”

“Look at the pattern,” Blaze cut in. “It’s random. If you were munching on something like this, you’d keep it to one plant, right? You wouldn’t spread it around. This looks more like the pattern a deer or goat might leave. And look over here.” She pointed to an area where patches of grass were torn up. “Again, standard grazing behaviour. This stallion we’re chasing… with the meandering trail, and this, I’m starting to think he’s not fully sapient.”

Shining shook his head. “Blaze, that doesn’t make any sense. We… equines have been cognitive for almost a million years.”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking!” Blaze shot back. “But this behaviour doesn’t fit. It’s just… wrong.” She shivered. “This all feels wrong.”

Shining sighed. “Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t. We have no way of knowing until we find him.”

“And what happens when we do find him?” Blaze shot back. “I’m not stupid, you know! You say you want to bring him back to Canterlot, but I can guess what Luna’s thinking. She’s out for blood, for pony’s sake!”

“She wouldn’t…” Shining started halfheartedly, and trailed off. Did he really know what Luna would and wouldn’t do? She was unpredictable, still trapped in a way of thinking hundreds of years old.

Bring him back to me. Use whatever means you deem necessary.

Shining thought furiously. That was exactly what Celestia had said. She never said to bring him back alive.

“We should get back to the camp,” Shining said abruptly. “We can sort all this out in the morning.”

“You go ahead,” Blaze retorted. “I like it just fine over here. Besides, I might take another look at this trail. See if I can find out anything more.”

“What if I ordered you to go back?”

Blaze smirked. “I’m not part of the Guard. Technically, I’m a civilian consultant, so you don’t have any real authority over me.”

Shining gritted his teeth. She was right. He could make strongly worded recommendations, but Blaze had no reason to follow them. She’s the best there is, he told himself. You can put up with a bit of insubordination for that.

“Shining?” He turned around, meeting Blaze’s suddenly intense eyes. “This stays between you and me. I don’t know what to make of it myself, and I don’t want to know what the others will. If you even hint at what I found…”

There was something in those eyes that said disobeying her would be a very poor choice. Shining blinked. “I won’t,” he found himself saying.

Blaze smiled. “Good. Now get back to the camp before someone misses you.”

Ignoring the sudden urge to smack her, Shining turned tail and left, his thoughts a tangled whirl.

Before he knew it, he found himself at the entrance to Fairweather’s tent. He paused for a moment, unsure as to why he’d even come that way.

“You migh’ as well come in,” Fairweather said from inside. “It’s damned spooky, havin’ you stand there.”

Shining jumped, and hesitantly poked his head in. Fairweather gestured toward a camp stool, laying his files and a lump of soapstone on a table.

Both were silent until Shining had sat down. Fairweather picked up the soapstone carving again and started worrying away at it with a fretsaw. “So what’d Blaze tell you out there?” he asked.

Shining tensed and relaxed again within a moment. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that Fairweather knew what had happened. “She has some… strange ideas,” he admitted.

Fairweather sighed, sawing off a small piece of stone. His hooves were already covered with fine dust. “She’s been suspicious of a few things ever since she first found the trail.”

“I think she has more than just suspicions,” Shining replied. “It’s just… hard to believe.”

“Belief’s a funny thing,” Fairweather said, examining the stone critically. “Can be easy to find, or hard, depending on ‘ow unfamiliar it is.”

“She was worried that you’d humour her,” Shining said.

Fairweather looked up from the carving. “Ah expect she asked you not to repeat anything she said.”

Shining swallowed. “If she told you what she thought, would you believe her? Or just…”

“When a little filly gives you a drawing, you humour her,” Fairweather said. “When a grown-up mare has a serious theory, you believe her.” He shook his head. “Ah won’t ask you t’ betray her trust. Even if our target isn’t what it seems, it makes no difference.”

Shining grunted. “She seems to think differently.”

Fairweather let out a heavy sigh. “Blaze is… she has her mother’s spirit. But she had a habit of jumping headfirst down a hole without even checking to see what’s in it. I’m not saying she’s wrong, but… we need to look at all sides here.”

Shining was silent for a moment. “She mentioned that she ran away,” he finally said.

“A mistake on my part,” Fairweather replied. “I just didn’t want to lose her. So I tried to keep her safe. But I was really just tying her down. And Blaze… she’s not the kind of pony to be tied down.” He shrugged. “So she ran. Went and made a name for herself. I didn’t see her for six years. When she came back, she’d…” Fairweather blinked, clearing his throat. “She’d gone and grown up.”

Shining went over and patted his friend on the shoulder. Fairweather pushed him off, and took a deep, shaky breath. “No sense worrying about it,” he said gruffly. “I cannae change it, can I? Now keep your ‘ead where it needs to be. We ‘ave a job to do, remember?”

Shining shook his head. “I’m still wondering if we’re going about this the right way.”

Fairweather sighed. “It does nae matter what it’s capable of. We need to find it, and stop it from repeating what happened in Canterlot.”

“Aren’t you curious at all?” Shining asked. “I mean, we should know what we’re going after, right?”

“Not another word,” Fairweather snapped. “Ah know what you’re thinking. And it won’t work. Ah already tried asking Luna ‘bout what she knew.”

Shining slumped. That had been his exact idea. “And?”

“She told me it’s a soul-eating demon from the depths of Tartarus. What in blazes do you think ‘appened? She didn’t say a word. Rattled off some nonsense about it not being important, and sent me on my way.” He waved a hoof. “But if you want to try, go ahead. May as well.”

“Why would she not tell us?” Shining asked.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to frighten us,” Fairweather replied. “Keep us ignorant, and use us as a distraction. Or maybe it’s some dark secret she donnae want released.”

Or she knows just as much as we do, Shining thought. “I’m going to see what she has to say,” he said.

“Good luck,” Fairweather said. “Ye’ll need it.”

Dreams flitted through Luna’s awareness like thousands of pinpricks of light. Each contained their own little world, a tight bundle of emotions, images and sensations. Every so often, Luna would dip into one of them, spreading peace through a nightmare, or reassurance through a dream wrought with anxiety.

It was familiar, soothing work. Over the years, Luna had turned her unique awareness into something more akin to meditation, putting her mind at rest even as she eased the dreams of others.

Now, her mind was all purpose. Dreams were the mind’s way of ordering and categorizing everything a pony had experienced that day. Tonight, her awareness was focused exclusively on Ponyville. If someone had seen their target, she would know.

Without warning, the wards around her tent suddenly went off, and her trance vanished like a pricked bubble. Luna blinked a couple times to refocus her eyes and directed a cold glare at the pony pushing his way into the tent. “I wasn’t aware we were ready to break camp, Shining Armour.”

“We’re not,” Shining said. “I wanted to ask you something. About what we’re going after.”

Luna fought the urge to sigh. I thought you might ask about this. “May I ask what aroused your curiosity?”

“A little while ago—” Shining cut himself off. “I just feel like I deserve to know what it is we’re chasing. What he’s capable of, what kind of being he is… just something. I don’t like being left in the dark, and any of the ponies I brought along will tell you the same thing.” He hesitated. “Besides, I feel like I should know what’s in Ponyville with Twilight.”

Luna thought for a moment, wording out a safe response. “All you need to know is that our quarry is sufficiently dangerous to require the utmost caution.”

Shining shook his head. “With all due respect, that was good enough for me yesterday. It’s not good enough now. You might be a Princess, but I’m still Captain of the Guard, and I need to know exactly what it is that I’m supposed to protect you from.”

Luna almost snorted. Protect her? In all likelihood, it would be the other way around.

Shining waited a moment for an answer. When Luna didn’t give one, he asked, “Is this related to what you and Celestia were working on?”

Fighting to keep her face neutral, Luna allowed herself a slow blink. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more clear. My sister and I have many duties, and–”

“None of that,” Shining snapped. “I’ve heard the rumours, and I saw the look you were giving Princess Celestia in your rooms. Whatever you were working on, she put it into action too early, didn’t she? And what we’re chasing is the aftermath.”

Luna let out a deep, rolling chuckle. “And I was starting to wonder when you’d show some backbone. Very well. I’ll humour you.” She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Are you familiar with the many-worlds school of thought?”

“I think Twilight might have mentioned it once or twice. It sounds familiar.”

“One interpretation is that there are an infinite number of worlds, each representing a different set of probabilities. In that school of thought, nothing is impossible. Only incredibly improbable.”

“Hold up,” Shining said, chuckling nervously. “I think I know where this is going. Are you trying to tell me that this thing is from another universe?”

“Part of our studies was to attempt to create a window to another realm of possibility. It was intended to be a joint effort, and not to be attempted for quite some time. But it would seem that my sister became overzealous. As for the rest… well, I’m sure you know.”

Shining reflexively reached up to touch his bandage. “But what is it?”

“We don’t know,” Luna said. “We have no idea what it is, what drives it or what it is capable of. We only know that it does not belong here, and should be removed immediately.”

Shining shook his head in bewilderment. “And when we find him? Princess Celestia ordered us to bring him back. How in Tartarus are we supposed to—”

Luna gave him a cool stare. “That thing nearly killed my sister,” she said. “What makes you think I have any intention of bringing it back alive?”

Shining blinked in surprise, unable to summon any words. Luna turned away from him. “That said, Celestia spoke to me before I left. Due to the delicate nature of the situation, I have been asked to exercise some restraint. Rest assured, I will not, as you seem inclined to believe, destroy it on sight.” However satisfying that may be. “Restraining it will be difficult, but not impossible.”

Shining obviously saw her face darken. “But you don’t like that,” he replied.

I suppose it doesn’t take a court Inquisitor, Luna thought wryly. “No,” she said. “I do not. I personally believe it was a mistake to even let it come here, and that it should be eradicated as soon as possible. I think Celestia’s wish to study it further is idiocy, and endangers herself and the entire land.”

She looked back at Shining. “You are wondering why I’m telling you all this, aren’t you? Especially after I sent Fairweather away without so much as a hint.”

Shining nodded jerkily. “A little bit.”

“We… share a common concern,” Luna said hesitantly. “You are worried about a sister, and I… am worried about a friend. Twilight was the first one to show me any compassion when I last visited Ponyville, and…” She cut herself off and swallowed. “Fairweather’s inactivity is not helping. I understand that we must approach the situation carefully, but there must be some way to at least assess matters.”

Shining hesitated, looking like he might want to say something. “I should get back to my tent,” he finally said. “Try to get some sleep.” It was obviously not what he’d previously been about to say.

Luna turned her face away to hide her smile. It seemed that her words had taken root. She gave a wordless nod to send Shining on his way.

I will not allow you to continue your mistake, dear sister, she thought fiercely. There is simply too much to lose. And if it required going behind the back of everyone else, then so be it.

Twilight wasn’t quite sure what woke her up first: a sunbeam focused precisely on her closed eyes, or the incessant pounding on the door. She groaned, rolling over and pressing a pillow over her ears. The thunderstorm had kept her up well into the night, and an early-morning visitor was not something she was ready to contend with.

Blessedly, the pounding on the door stopped. Twilight sighed, relaxing and preparing to drift off again… and a stone pocked off her bedroom window.

Teeth grinding together, Twilight waited through three more stones, before flinging the covers off and throwing the window open. Her angry shout of “What?” died in her throat as she saw Applejack standing at ground level, a pile of small pebbles beside her.

“Twilight,” Applejack said, sighing in relief and dropping the pebble in her hoof. “Thank Celestia. Ah was startin’ to think you weren’t there.”

Twilight frowned, still trying to clear the cobwebs from inside her skull. “Why are you here this early? Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No. Ah… just come with me. There’s something you need to see.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “The lightning storm last night! You have several sandpits near your property, right? Did you find a couple fulgurites?”

“Fulga-what? You know, never mind. Just come on.”

Her curiosity stoked to an inferno, Twilight hurriedly tugged a brush through her mane and splashed cold water over her face. Spike stumbled out from her room in the meantime, rubbing en eye. “Uh…” he said, watching her rush around the library. “Did I miss something?”

“Applejack needs me,” Twilight explained, bolting down an apple. “Mind the library while I’m gone.”

With that, she was out the door. “Okay,” Spike said belatedly to an empty library.

“So,” Twilight said breathlessly outside. “What’d you find? Or did something happen?”

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Applejack replied, glancing around uneasily. Twilight had no idea why. The streets were nearly empty, on account of the early hour. “And, uh, keep quiet about it until we’re on the farm.”

Staying silent on the long walk to the farm was probably one of the hardest things Twilight had ever done. Whatever Applejack had found, it was something big, and her refusal to say anything only made things worse.

They finally stopped beside a row of stables near one of the orchards. The stables were usually home to several cows, who were currently grazing in some of the neighbouring fields. “Twilight,” Applejack finally said, stopping beside one of the stables. “Do you trust me?”

Twilight blinked. “Of course I do,” she replied. “What kind of question is that?”

“No,” Applejack snapped, fixing Twilight with an uncomfortably direct stare. “Ah need to know you trust me.”

The implication was there. Applejack was talking about the kind of implicit trust reserved for the closest of friends. It was the trust that no matter what, meant one would be standing with the other. Twilight swallowed, suddenly uneasy. “I trust you, Applejack,” she said.

The earth pony heaved a sigh, seemingly relieved. “Here we go, then,” she said, flinging open the door.

Inside the stable, a pony lay on a bed of straw. It raised its head as the door open, fixing Twilight with a liquid gaze.

Twilight didn’t look for any longer. She flung her weight against the door and slammed it shut, breathing heavily. “Oh my gosh,” she said quietly. “You’ve kidnapped somepony. I thought you found a fulgurite, and you kidnapped somepony.”

“Twilight, this ain’t what it looks like.”

“Really?” Twilight snapped. “You have a pony locked in your stables. I think I have a pretty good idea what it looks like!”

“Calm down and listen to me,” Applejack said.

“I am calm!” Twilight shrieked, pacing rapidly. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and slowly released it. “I’m calm,” she repeated in a more even tone. Her eyes flashed open, and she fixed Applejack with a glare. “Now you’d better explain what I just saw.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Applejack said sheepishly. “He… he looks like a pony, but he’s not one. Doesn’t act like one, I mean.”

“Start from the beginning,” Twilight said evenly. “Where did you find him?”

“Last night, during the thunderstorm,” Applejack replied. “He was just walking along the path, like he was lost. Ah thought he was lost at first, but then… he wasn’t acting right. And then I started noticing he didn’t look right.”

“Applejack, this is a thinking, feeling pony,” Twilight groaned. “It doesn’t matter how they act! You can’t just lock one up because he’s acting a little weird!”

“He has no cutie marks,” Applejack burst out.

Twilight paused. “That’s impossible,” she finally said. “You always get your cutie mark before you’re fully grown. There’s no way around it.”

“Take a look,” Applejack said. “Flanks are as blank as Applebloom’s.”

Against her better judgement, Twilight opened the door again. The stallion still hadn’t moved, content to munch away on a basket full of hay. Sure enough, his flanks didn’t bear a mark. And, now that she was looking, Twilight was cataloguing several other noticeable differences. His head was longer than most ponies’ she’d seen, the colouration of his coat was more drab and less uniform, the shape of the legs was almost completely different…

She took a step in, prompting the stallion to raise his head again and fix her with that same liquid stare. “Hi there,” she said awkwardly. “What’s your name?”

The stallion said nothing. He just continued chewing, staring at her.

“Can you understand me?” Twilight asked. No response. Not a flicker of recognition in those deep, soulful eyes.

Growing impatient, Twilight lit her horn and reached out with magic, performing a simple spell intended to assess a pony’s physical state. But when the tendrils of magic reached the pony, they… recoiled. There was really no other word for it. The spell immediately fell apart, unraveling into nothing.

Twilight jerked backwards, panting, sweat suddenly beading on her forehead. In the instant before the magic had failed, she’d felt something horrible. The pony was a complete magical void, a total antithesis to the force that ran through everything in Equestria, whether it was alive or not. “What in the world did you find?” she asked, shivering despite the heat. The sweat on her forehead felt like it was about to freeze.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Applejack replied, oblivious to her friend’s condition.

Twilight swallowed, suddenly feeling like she was going to be sick. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t know.” Before she even know what was happening, she lurched toward the far side of the stall and retched.

Chapter 5

As the sun rose, Shining sat in his tent, polishing his chestpiece. The metal already shone like a mirror, but he still continued rubbing it with a cloth in gentle, circular motions. The tension through the camp was palpable. Fairweather, he knew, would be in his own tent, scraping away at lumps of soapstone with a file. Even Luna had confined herself to her tent, refusing to talk to anyone.

With most of the ponies in the camp, it was simple impatience. None of them were used to waiting. Shining’s restlessness, however, was the result of something completely different.

He’s not fully sapient.

Shining scowled and spat on the gilded chestpiece again, scouring the cloth over it with more force than was really necessary.

Blaze is a lot of things, but wrong isn’t usually one of them.

She had to be wrong here. What she said made no sense. How could a pony be capable of overpowering Princess Celestia and leveling her chambers, and yet possess the intellect of a deer or dumbox?

Are we doing the right thing?

You just want to keep her safe.

I’m not asking you to agree with me. But I am asking you to trust me.

Gritting his teeth, Shining threw down the piece of cloth. As if to add insult to injury, his headache was coming back with a vengeance. Before it could get any worse, he went over to his pack and crammed a bundle of dried herbs Patchwork had given him into his mouth. They were no replacement for unicorn healing, but the combination of willow bark, rosemary and aspen leaves did the job well enough. Fifteen minutes or so, the medic had said, and a headache will just be a bad memory. Gagging at the vile taste, Shining was unsure if they were actually worth it.

While he waited for the herbs to take effect, Shining went back to polishing his armour. I don’t even know who to believe any more, he thought morosely.

I wish Twilight was here, he mused. She was always better than me at muddling things out. Besides, if she was there with him, she’d be safe. Just like Luna had said he wanted.

“That breastplate looks polished enough to me.”

Shining looked up, meeting Fairweather’s eyes. The pegasus still held a few small files and a half-carved figurine under one wing. “And I would have thought that after all this time, you’d have gotten better at that,’ he shot back. “Nopony’s perfect.”

Fairweather scowled. “I came here t’ talk, not argue. My carving abilities aren’t really in the picture.”

Shining took a deep breath, reining his temper in hard. His headache, which had begun to recede, came roaring back. “All right. So talk.”

Fairweather looked him over for a moment. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Not much,” Shining admitted.

Fairweather grunted. “It shows. Straighten up. Look at me.” He nodded. “Better. Ye don’t look like you’re about to fall on your face any more.” He glanced at Shining’s bandage. “You’re bleeding again.”

“Luna seems to think that whatever we’re chasing has to be destroyed, whether it’s an actual threat or not,” Shining said abruptly.

Fairweather blinked. “So you did get something out of ‘er,” he grunted. “Figures she’d ‘ave told you.”

Shining shook his head. “I just don’t know who to believe. I don’t know if it’s the head injury, but I… I’m just so confused.”

Fairweather eased himself down onto Shining’s camp stool. “If I were you, Ah wouldn’t listen too closely t’ what Luna has to say.”

“It’s not just what Luna told me,” Shining said. It’s not just what Blaze thinks either. I’ve gotten to a point where I almost don’t care what they think any more! I’m sick of hearing theories and speculation! All I care about now is that Twilight, who’s completely unaware of the situation, is in the same town with something we know nothing about!

“There’s just a lot on my mind right now,” he said instead.

Fairweather let out a heavy sigh. “You realize you ‘ave nothing to prove, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shining retorted.

“We both know what that means,” Fairweather replied. “Any other soldier would be in the infirmary right now. Frankly, the only reason you’re out ‘ere is that we’d have to tie you down t’ keep you in Canterlot.”

“You want me to leave,” Shining said. “You think I can’t handle this. Is that it? Is that what this is all about? Because if you think I’m going to crack, you’re wrong.”

“It has nothing t’ do with your ability to handle things,” Fairweather snapped. “You’d keep a cool head e’en if the sun was about to explode. Ah just… there is nothing about this situation that I like. My gut’s telling me things are going to end badly for everyone involved, and… you ‘ave a wife to worry about.”

“And a sister,” Shining shot back. “You think I’m just going to abandon her?”

“Ye wouldnae be abandoning her,” Fairweather said. “The rest of us would be there for her.”

Shining shook his head. “I couldn’t. At my wedding, at the Crystal Empire… Twily’s always been there for me when I needed her.” He thumped a hoof against his chest. “Now it’s my turn. And if things are going to go as badly as you think they are, I’m going to regret leaving for the rest of my life.”

Fairweather smiled and gently punched Shining’s shoulder. “Ye just had to prove me right again, didn’t you?” He stood with a grunt of effort. “Ah’ll go fetch Patches. E’en if he cannae do anything about you bleeding, that bandage could probably stand changing.”

Shining watched him go. Now it’s my turn. He hadn’t actually thought about it that way before he’d said that. In the end, what he wanted boiled down to two things: the truth, and to keep Twilight safe. And the only way to make that happen was to go to Ponyville by himself, against orders.

He wouldn’t be court-martialed. Since the Royal Guard was a separate division of the Equestrian military and possessed its own ranking system, him and Fairweather were technically equally ranked, so he didn’t strictly have to follow orders.

Shining stood there for a moment longer, weighing his options. Finally, with a muttered obscenity, he bundled his armour together and slung it over his back. He could say he was going out to check the perimeter; something routine. They wouldn’t think to look for him for a couple hours. He could be in Ponyville before anyone figured out where he’d gone.

Thankfully, nopony accosted him as he walked out of the camp. And why would they? He was a superior officer to everyone there except Luna and Fairweather. As long as neither of them saw him, he’d be fine.

Shining let himself relax a bit. I might actually be able to pull this—

“Going somewhere?”

Shining froze as Blaze stepped out from behind a tree, munching on an apple. “I’m checking the perimeter,” he said lamely.

“With your armour all slung over your back?” Blaze remarked. “Please. You’re going to Ponyville, aren’t you?”

Shining took a moment to look the pegasus over. He outweighed her by a good hundred pounds, but pegasi were often capable of surprising bursts of speed and strength. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which would come out on top if it came to force.

“Thought you might be,” Blaze said, grinning. “I would have left an hour ago, but I don’t have a good excuse to wander off.”

Shining blinked. Of all the responses he was expecting, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

Blaze took another bite of the apple. “Go ahead,” she mumbled. “I’ll see if I can throw the rest off your trail.”

Shining opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Don’t thank me. You’ve saved me some trouble. Just answer me a question.”

“Anything,” Shining replied.

“Why?”

Shining paused. There was a lot left unspoken in that question. “Luna told me some things last night,” he finally said. “I’m… starting to think you might be right.”

Blaze smirked. “I usually am,” she said smugly. “But if I might ask… what are you looking for? Do you have a plan?”

Shining sighed. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m looking for, or what I’m going to do when I find it. I’m still not sure what side I’m on.”

Blaze smiled sadly. “So there’s already sides in this, are there? Us versus them.”

Shining paused. He hadn’t wanted to think of it like that. “Looks like it,” he finally said.

“Luna’s going to come after you,” Blaze said suddenly. “When she learns you’re gone… she won’t stop at anything.”

Shining nodded. “I know.”

Blaze swallowed. “Something bad’s going to happen,” she said quietly. “I can feel it.”

“I can too,” Shining sighed. “I think everyone here can.”

With a heavy heart, Shining continued on, focusing on the small, quiet town in the distance.

Either I’m making a huge mistake, he thought, or Luna is. And I really don’t know which.

“Twilight? You all right?”

Twilight lifted her head, cold sweat beading on her brow, hating the taste of vomit on her tongue. “No,” she groaned. “I’m not all right.”

“What just happened?” Applejack asked, directing a cautious glare at the stallion in the corner.

“Magical backlash of some kind,” Twilight said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to retch again. “He caused it. Don’t know how.”

Applejack nudged her head under one of Twilight’s forelegs, supporting some of her weight. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you inside.”

“No!” Twilight said, shaking her friend off. “I’ll be fine. I’m feeling better already.” Her nausea was already starting to recede.

“Are you sure?” Applejack asked.

“I’m sure,” Twilight said, swallowing. “I’ve never felt anything like that.” Hesitantly, she spun out a few hair-thin tendrils of magic, and slowly extended them toward the stallion. Just before touching him, the magic started to writhe, almost like something alive, trying to pull out of her grasp. Shivering, Twilight yanked the magic back before it could collapse entirely. “That makes no sense,” she whispered.

Applejack frowned. “Uh, Twi? Hate to interrupt your musin’, but I’m feeling a bit left out of the loop here. What the hay just happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” Twilight replied. “Magic just flies apart around him. It’s like he not only doesn’t have any magic in him, but he makes it collapse around him!”

“Ah don’t follow,” Applejack said.

Twilight winced. “Sorry. It’s tough to explain. If I were to, say, lift you with magic, I’d feel you. I’m not talking about an aura or anything like that, but I’d know I was holding something. With him, I feel absolutely nothing.”

“So what happened with you just then? You still look like you’re going to be sick.”

“When magic falls apart like that, it’s not usually pleasant. It falls into whatever it wants to.” Twilight swallowed. “I think I was lucky to just feel sick from it.”

Applejack sighed. “So what do we do? I’m stumped.”

Twilight shook her head. “Keep him here. I’ll see if I can find anything in the library, maybe send a note to Princess Celestia. I need to find out exactly what he is, and how he got…” She trailed off. When she’d stumbled off to throw up, the stallion had clambered to his hooves, ears laid back. He still seemed on-edge, but that wasn’t what had attracted Twilight’s attention. There were several dark spots on the straw below him.

She quickly looked over the stallion for any sign of open wounds. After a moment, she saw that he was favouring his right foreleg. Applejack noticed it at the same time she did, and swore. “He’s hurt,” she muttered. “Ah thought he was limping last night, but Ah paid it no mind. Just wanted to get him out of the rain.”

Twilight knelt down and examined the stallion’s leg, ignoring his soft snorts of alarm. “Looks like he’s got a piece of glass stuck in there,” she said. “Poor guy. It started bleeding again every time he shifted.” She got back up. “All right. Change of plans. We take him to the library. I’ve got a couple dissection tools there I should be able to fix him up with.”

Applejack frowned. “Uh, I hate to point this out, but… ain’t Fluttershy way better than you at this kind of thing?”

“Maybe,” Twilight agreed sheepishly. “But until I figure out exactly what our friend is and where he came from, the fewer ponies that know about him, the better.”

She glanced at the stallion, who was still standing passively near the back of the stall. “Uh… any ideas on how we’re going to move him?”

Applejack nodded thoughtfully. “Ah’ve got one or two.”

Luna’s eyes flew open as the wards around her tent alerted her. I am not accustomed to being disturbed this often, she thought as Fairweather pushed through the tent flap without so much as a word.

“Can I help you?” Luna asked, withdrawing her awareness from the dreamscape. It had quieted some, but there were still some late sleepers whose dreams might hold information.

“What did you tell ‘im?” Fairweather barked.

“I am afraid you will have to be more specific.”

“Don’t give me that!” Fairweather spat. “You know perfectly well wha’ Ah’m talking about! Shining Armour’s left the camp, and you were one o’ the last ponies he talked to.” He stepped closer, his tone becoming low and dangerous. “Now you’re going t’ tell me everything you told him. Because if you went and manipulated my friend—”

“Must I remind you who you are speaking to?” Luna hissed. “You are upset, and understandably so, and in light of that I will forget what you have just said. Now compose yourself and address me as your Princess, and not as a criminal!”

Fairweather shut his lopsided jaw with a click, nearly shaking with the urge to start shouting again. “I will not disguise the fact that Shining Armour and I discussed some sensitive matters last night,” Luna said. “But I can assure you that I did not, as you said, manipulate him. His choice to leave was his and his alone.”

“And what exactly did your conversation last night have to do with ‘is decision, Princess?”

“I am afraid I have no answer to that,” Luna replied. “It may have, or it may not. You will have to ask him yourself. However,” she continued, cutting off Fairweather’s retort. “I see no reason why we cannot use this situation to our advantage.”

“My friend and Captain of the Guard is striking out for Ponyville with severe injuries and no idea what he migh’ encounter,” Fairweather hissed. “Pray tell how that’s advantageous.”

“Ten Guards and a Princess scouring a town on an unknown mission is cause for uproar,” Luna said. “One Guard, on the other hoof, is simply a curiosity. Assuming that Shining Armour maintains discretion, he could make an effective scout.”

Fairweather’s eyes narrowed. “If Ah didnae know better, Princess, Ah’d say you were planning this from the beginning.”

“It is a good thing that you know better, then,” Luna replied. Oh Fairweather, you are a dangerous pony indeed. It’s not often I find I have underestimated someone.

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if Ah moved the camp closer. To come to our scout’s aid if need be.”

“Of course not,” Luna replied. “You are in command, after all.”

“Ah appreciate your time, Princess Luna,” Fairweather said. “It’s been quite enlightening.”

As soon as Fairweather left the tent, Luna allowed her face to melt into a scowl. It seemed that her second knight intended to take himself off the board.

Well, if she now had to sacrifice a few pawns, so be it. This was a game she could not lose.

“All right,” Twilight whispered, glancing around the front of the library. “We’re clear.”

Applejack emerged from behind a house, a rope in her teeth. The other end was looped around the stallion’s head in such a way that pulling on it encouraged him to move without cutting off anything vital. It had taken some creative maneuvering on Twilight’s part to get them through town unseen.

Twilight reached the library’s back door and held it open, glancing anxiously around as Applejack hauled their quarry closer. The stallion nickered quietly in protest, but plodded along calmly enough. That’s a good thing, I guess, Twilight thought. I don’t think me or Applejack could restrain him if he decided to get a bit ornery.

Slowly but surely, the two inched forward. Come on, come on! Twilight thought. We don’t have time for this!

Sure that someone would see that at any moment, she all but shoved the two into the library, taking a last furtive glance around before ducking inside.

She closed the door and rested against it, heaving a sigh of relief. “You want to tell me what’s going on here?” Spike asked from the stairs.

Twilight gave a yelp of surprise and leapt to her hooves. Spike! I’d completely forgotten about him! “Spike, I promise I’ll explain everything. But I can’t now. Just… hold down the fort. Don’t let anyone in. Say I’ve got the flu. Heck, say I have the plague!”

“Is something wrong?” Spike asked. “Who was that with Applejack?”

“I’ll explain later,” Twilight said. “Please, Spike. I need you to trust me on this.”

Spike hesitated, and nodded. “All right,” he said. Then he fixed her with a startlingly intense glare. “But you’d better tell me what’s going on at some point.”

Twilight winced. She knew better than anyone how much Spike hated being out of the loop. “I will,” she promised.

Twilight snatched her dissection kit off her workbench and, after a moment’s consideration, went to the icebox and filled a bowl with greens. While a couple of them might be useful for poultices in a stretch, she really just needed something to distract the stallion with. With that floating behind her, she ran downstairs. “How is he?” she asked Applejack.

“Not happy,” Applejack replied, tugging on the rope. “Takin’ those stairs put some strain on his leg, and he didn’t seem to like that.”

Twilight knelt down in front of the stallion, who was snorting in agitation. “Relax,” she told him, taking a pair of tweezers out of the kit. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

The moment the metal touched the wound, the stallion nickered and stepped back. Twilight bit off a curse and stood. “Fasten that rope around his leg. I can’t get the glass out if he keeps moving.”

Applejack quickly obliged, undoing the rope from the stallion’s head and retying it around his powerful foreleg. Twilight knelt down again, ignoring the stallion’s hot breath on the back of her neck. She tried not to think about what would happen if he decided to bite her. His jaws were a lot heavier than the average pony’s; they could probably do some severe damage.

“Just hold him still,” she instructed Applejack, carefully manipulating the tweezers. After a moment, she fastened the ends around the shard. “On three,” she said. “One… two… three!” With a quick motion, she yanked the small shard out.

The effect on the stallion was immediate. He let out a whinny of pain and jerked backwards, yanking the rope out of Applejack’s mouth. Twilight scampered backwards, getting away from those jaws — and froze as the stallion turned around, aiming his rear hooves right at her. She swore, diving out of the way, and the kick that would have caught her in the face instead caught Applejack full in the chest. She was sent flying backwards into the wall with a strangely hollow thud.

“Applejack!” Twilight yelled, glancing anxiously at the stallion. He was suddenly docile again, the flash of temper gone as suddenly as it had come.

Applejack’s eyes opened, and focused blearily on Twilight. “Big Mac, Ah don’t wanna play tag with hay bales no more,” she moaned.

“Look at me Applejack,” Twilight said. “What’s the square root of two hundred thirty seven?”

“Square what?” Applejack replied, frowning. “There ain’t no tree with square roots that Ah know of.”

“Good enough,” Twilight said with a smile. “You all right?”

“Good enough,” the earth pony echoed, blinking a couple timed to focus her eyes. “That stallion’s got one heck of a kick. Ah think Big Macintosh might have a rival in the strength department.”

“Let’s not test that,” Twilight said, helping Applejack to her hooves. She suddenly remembered the bowl she’d left on the stairs and floated it as close to the stallion as she dared. He let out a happy nicker, buried his face in the bowl and started munching.

Applejack shook her head to clear it and looked at the stallion with new wariness. “Now what?”

“I…” Twilight closed her mouth. She had no idea. “I guess… let me grab some books. I don’t know about you, but I want to find out exactly what he is, and where he came from. Maybe then we can figure out what to do with him.”

“Any idea on what he is?” Applejack asked.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Twilight admitted. “I mean, he could be some form of primitive equine. A living fossil sort of scenario. But that doesn’t explain how he negates magic.” She glanced back over at the stallion again, who was peacefully investigating the basement. “Think you can watch him for a few minutes?”

Applejack chuckled. “Ah’ve learned my lesson. Ah’m knotting the rope around something heavy this time.” The mirth faded from her face. “Just, uh… don’t take to long. I don’t really like bein’ around him.”

Twilight paused halfway up the stairs. “Why not?”

“Forget it,” Applejack said, waving a hoof. “It’s silly.”

“Any observations you have could be potentially useful,” Twilight countered.

Applejack sighed. “Whenever Ah get too close, I just… start feeling a bit weak, is all. I can’t really explain it.”

“That’s perfectly natural,” Twilight replied. “It’s a primal response to an unfamiliar situation. Don’t let it bother you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Applejack protested, but Twilight was already gone.

Twilight stepped out into the library rotunda, compiling a list of titles. Equine Morphology’s a definite, and I’ll need something on evolutionary history… and that guide on writing journal articles is always helpful. Who knows? Maybe I can get my name out there for something beyond being an Element bearer.

She glanced at her workbench, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Maybe The Nature of Magicks would be a good idea, too. Or it might be a little too archaic.

She’d been reading it the previous day. It had made some very fascinating points, focusing on innate magics that permeated every corner of the land. It didn’t just manifest in unicorns, as most scholars of the time had thought.

Twilight blinked. Then her jaw dropped. “Oh my,” she said quietly. She snatched the book and began leafing through the pages, looking for a particular excerpt. At the front of the library, someone knocked on the door. She ignored it. Spike would take care of it.

Finally, she found the passage. As she scanned it, her heart sank. Stupid, stupid, stupid! she berated herself, slamming the book shut and turning toward the trapdoor. Why didn’t I think of that?

She flung the trapdoor open and barrelled down the stairs. Applejack glanced up at her. “Well, that was quick,” she remarked. Her easygoing expression melted into a frown. “Something wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Don’t go near him,” Twilight replied, refusing to taker her eyes off the stallion, who was currently rubbing his jaw against the edge of a table. “Don’t touch him, just… keep as much distance between him and you as you can.”

“Why?” Applejack asked. “What’d you find out?”

Twilight lit her horn out of reflex, and dulled it in the same moment. Magic was worse than useless in this situation. “I was stupid. Magic is magic. If he negates my magic, then he negates all magic.”

Applejack frowned. “Ah’m not sure I follow.”

“Magic doesn’t just appear in unicorns,” Twilight said, forcing her voice to stay even. “It’s everywhere. Pegasi use it to fly and change the weather, you use it to grow things, and it gives you your strength and stamina. It’s in the plants, it’s in the ground, it’s everywhere. If he’s negating whatever magic he comes into contact with…”

“Let me get this straight. He’s sucking the magic out of everything he touches? Stars, Twilight, what the hay is that going to do?”

“Picture a lake,” Twilight said. “Now, let’s take that lake, and put a bottomless hole in it. The hole moves around at random, but the lake’s constantly draining. Wherever the hole is, the surface gets disturbed. That’s what’s making you feel weak. That’s why the weather team lost control.”

Applejack was silent for a long moment. “What happens when the lake drains?” she asked weakly.

Twilight shook her head. “It shouldn’t. That’s not actually a great analogy. Magic’s just a type of energy. By its very nature, it can’t be created or destroyed. Only converted.”

“Converted? Twi, that ain’t much more promising.”

“Twilight?” Spike asked from upstairs, jarring her from her reverie. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

Twilight glared upstairs. “If it’s not a life-or-death scenario, I’m going to make it one,” she growled, stomping up the stairs.

“This had better be important,” she started. Then she saw who was standing in the rotunda, and her jaw dropped.

“Hey Twily,” Shining said, his face drawn and taut. “We’ve got a bit to talk about.”

Chapter 6

“Shining,” Twilight said dully. What in Tartarus is he doing here? He’s not supposed to have any leave for six weeks! “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Crystal Empire with Cadance? And…” She caught sight of the bloodstained bandage around his head and her eyes widened. “Celestia’s fetlocks, Shining! What in the world happened to your head?”

“I’m fine,” her brother said roughly. “Split scalp, minor concussion. It’s not important right now.”

“Shining, there’s nothing minor about a concussion,” Twilight replied, aghast. “You shouldn’t even be on your feet right now!”

“I said it’s not important!” Shining snapped.

Twilight fell silent. Her brother was wearing an expression she’d never seen on him before. “Shining,” she asked. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Shining let out a heavy sigh and looked away. “I don't really know where to start," he said. "A couple days ago, Princess Celestia tried something. I still can't tell you for sure what it was, but I know that it went wrong. I got there just in time to watch it happen.”

Twilight blinked. That explained the magical outpouring she’d detected.

“I didn’t see how she did it,” Shining continued, “but when I got there, she wasn’t alone. Something else was in the room with her. Something bad.” He paused and rubbed at his temple, wincing. “It… it gets a bit fuzzy after that. I remember her telling me to leave, and casting some kind of spell. Next thing I remember was waking up in a bed with a bandage and a splitting headache.”

He saw the look on Twilight’s face and quickly said, “Don’t worry. She was alive, last I saw her. She sent me, Luna and a few others to track the thing down and bring it back. They’re all still camped a couple kilometres from Ponyville.”

“Then why are you here and not with them?” Twilight asked, panic flaring in her chest.

“I came here to make sure you were safe.” Shining growled, leaning closer. “And to find out the truth. Everyone back at camp seems to have different ideas about what we’re chasing, so after finding you, I was going to try and find something concrete. So you can imagine my surprise when as I came by to check on you, I saw you and your earth pony friend leading the very thing I’m chasing into the library!”

Twilight sank down into a chair. “I thought we were being discreet,” she whispered.

“Where is he?”

“What are you going to do to him?” Twilight asked, panic flaring in her chest. She'd heard the sudden coldness in his voice, a tone unlike anything she'd ever heard from him.

“I’ll decide that as soon as you tell me everything you know about it. Now where is he?”

Twilight snapped her head up. “There has to be a mistake,” she said quickly. “He can’t even talk! There’s no way he could…” She trailed off. Magic. Princess Celestia cast a spell of some kind. A probing spell made me sick. What would a spell cast by an alicorn at full power do?

“Shining, you know you can trust me,” she said. “I’d never lie to you. That stallion will never intentionally hurt you.”

Shining studied her face for a long moment. “Show me,” he finally said.

Applejack fidgeted nervously, trying to look everywhere except at the stallion, and at the same time loath to take her eyes off him. It was nerve-wracking to be in the same room as something that was literally sucking the magic out of the world.

And yet it was hard to believe he could do anything bad at all. The stallion looked completely innocent. Even his earlier nervousness was gone, now that he had a bowl of food to distract him.

She frowned. “You need a name,” she said to nobody in particular.

“Applejack?” Twilight called from upstairs. “You still okay down there?”

“Ah’m fine,” Applejack yelled back. “What’d Spike want?” She glanced up as she heard someone coming down the stairs. Her ears flattened. “Oh.”

Shining Armour glared at the stallion past her, his face murderous. Applejack took a step to the side to position herself between the stallion and Twilight’s brother. She doubted she could do much against magic, but she’d be able to hold her own if it got physical.

The stare-down continued for an uncomfortable thirty seconds, long enough for a bead of sweat to roll all the way down Applejack’s face. The entire time, the stallion looked nervously between them, flicking his ears and making a quiet huffing sound.

Shining, his face inscrutable, was the first to break the silence. “What were you just saying?” he asked.

Applejack shot a questioning glance to Twilight, who replied with a shake of her head. Her meaning was clear. I’ll explain later.

“Ah was saying he needed a name,” she said carefully, still expecting Shining to attack at any moment. “Just ‘cause… well, Ah’m getting sick of thinking ‘bout him as ‘the stallion’ or something like that.”

Behind her, the stallion lost interest in Shining and returned its attention to the bowl of greens, munching away without a care in the world.

Shining opened his mouth to say something, and bit it back. A dozen different emotions fought for dominance of his face. Suddenly, he turned around. “I’ve seen enough,” he said. “I need time to think.”

Without waiting for a reply, he pushed past his sister and went upstairs. Applejack waited a moment, and then let out a breath, tension draining from her muscles. Her heart pounded in her chest. “You feel like telling me what that was about? For that matter, what’s he doing here?”

Twilight hesitantly walked down the stairs. “Applejack, I… you don’t have to stay here any longer. I can handle it from here.”

Applejack gave her a flat stare. “Really, Twi? You’re gonna do that?”

“I don’t require your assistance any more,” Twilight replied. “You’re free to go.”

“Ah know you well enough to know when you’re plannin’ on playing the hero,” Applejack said. “And it’s not happening. You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily. Now, what’s goin’ on?”

Twilight sighed. “Shining’s here as part of a strike team to take our stallion out. Apparently, he destroyed a wing of the castle and nearly killed Princess Celestia. I have a feeling this is going to turn ugly. Really ugly. I don’t want you or any of my friends to be anywhere near here when it does.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me to leave.”

Twilight clenched her jaw in frustration, and then relaxed. “I know better than to try forcing you,” she said quietly. “Fine. Stay here, watch our friend, think of a name if you want. I’m going to talk to Shining and see if he knows anything useful. Then we figure out what to do.” She glanced at the stallion again and hesitated. Then she walked back up the stairs, shaking her head. “We’ll figure something out,” she muttered.

Applejack let out a loud huff after Twilight left. Try to get rid of me, will you? That’s not the Apple way, Twilight. I’m here until the bitter end!

The air seemed to suddenly chill around her. She shivered and looked around, unconsciously reaching up and running her hoof along the brim of her hat in a gesture of good luck. Don’t go turnin’ your back on me now, Lady Luck, she thought to herself. Wouldn’t be a good time.

Twilight poked her head into her bedroom. Shining was sitting on her stool, gazing out the window. She knew better than to ask if he was all right. It was obvious that he wasn’t. Instead, she pulled up a chair and sat beside him. He’d talk when he was ready.

Shining gave no sign that he’d noticed her for a good few minutes. “You know, when I saw you leading that thing into your house, I expected the worst,” he finally said. “I thought… stars, I didn’t know what to think. I still don’t know what to think.”

He turned and fixed his eyes on her own. “What is he? What do you know?”

Twilight looked away, chewing her lip. “It’s difficult to explain,” she said.

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Shining grated. “Try anyway.”

Twilight took a deep breath, and started talking.

“Dusty? Think that’ll work for you?”

The stallion looked back at her. “Maybe not,” Applejack admitted. “How about… ah, consarn it. Why’m Ah even bothering? Ah can call you anything Ah want and it won’t matter none!”

She sighed. But it would matter. Attaching a name to something made it more valuable. Worth protecting. It stood to reason that something worth protecting should be given a name.

She paced around the room, thinking. The stallion, finished with his bowl of vegetables, followed her, bobbing his head rhythmically like he was playing a game of follow-the-leader.

Suddenly, Applejack stopped and turned around. The stallion gave a snort of surprise and took a couple steps back. “How about Tex?” Applejack said.

Yeah. Tex would work. According to Granny Smith, it meant “friend” or “ally” in some different language. One of the old languages, from the ponies that lived in the area well before Ponyville went on the map. “Whaddaya think?” Applejack said, patting the stallion on the shoulder. “Will Tex work for you?”

The stallion gave a quiet half-whinny in reply. “Ah guess that’s as good an answer as any,” Applejack said. She looked up the stairs. How much longer was Twilight going to be?

“Hold tight,” she said to the newly named stallion. “Ah’m gonna grab you some more food.”

Tex flicked an ear and started rubbing his cheek against the edge of a worktable to scratch an itch.

Applejack grabbed the bowl and trotted back upstairs. Once in the kitchen, she emptied the larder into the bowl, and grabbed a couple apples off the counter for herself. Watching the stallion gorge himself had given her a case of the munchies. After a moment’s thought, she emptied some of the mixed greens out of Tex’s bowl into two smaller ones and left them on the counter. Twilight and her brother could probably do with a snack when they came down.

With the bowl of vegetables balanced on her back and half of one apple already in her stomach, Applejack went back down into the basement. “Dunno if you’re still hungry,” she said, “but Ah thought Ah’d bring something down anyw—”

She cut herself off, eyes widening. “Uh…” she managed, looking down into the sea of green Twilight’s basement had become.

A sunbeam slanted in through the stained-glass window in Luna’s study. As the sun rose, it crawled across the floor, climbing the heavy wooden desk, and illuminating the injured alicorn slumped over it.

Celestia twitched as the sunbeam warmed her fur, and her eyes snapped open. For a moment, she stayed still, letting energy flow back into her. Then, with what felt like a superhuman effort, she raised her head, looking down at the letter she’d been about to send the previous night. So much could have happened in those lost hours… but at the same time, it probably wasn’t too late.

She channeled magic through her horn — it was so much easier when she was in the sunlight again — and began the spell that would send the hastily written letter to her sister. She hesitated, and brought the quill over to write down a quick postscript.

With a heavy heart, she sent the message. You win this round, sister.

Shining snorted. “So that’s what you meant when you said he’d never intentionally hurt anyone. That thing’s not harmless at all!”

Twilight bristled. “As long as you don’t use any magic near him, you’ll be fine.”

“What about the ambient magic?” Shining snapped.

“Well… all right, maybe that’s not harmless.”

“Luna was right,” Shining said. “Celestia should never have brought him here.”

“Brought?” Twilight said, frowning. “What do you mean, brought?”

“I’m just going by what Luna said, but… she said that he’s from another world. Another universe, another dimension, whatever you want to call it. That’s why he’s so different. That’s why he breaks the laws of magic. He literally doesn’t belong here.”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to be stunned. “I’d suspected…” she said quietly. “This is… do you have any idea what this means? If word of this gets out, it’ll turn the entire scientific community on its head! Princess Celestia just proved the entire many-worlds school of thought! It means that Tangent wasn’t a nutcase after all!”

“None of that matters!” Shining yelled. “Do you understand me? If Luna finds out what that stallion does to magic, she won’t stop until he’s lying dead at her hooves. Stars, after what you’ve told me, I’m tempted.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Twilight said fiercely. “I know perfectly well what could happen if we keep him here, but I refuse to believe that murdering him in cold blood is the only solution!”

“Will it work?” Shining asked coldly.

“I’m not even going to consider—”

“Will. It. Work.”

Twilight gritted her teeth. “It’s impossible to know for sure, but… theoretically. It makes a lot of assumptions, but whatever process is disrupting our magic should cease with vital functions. It all depends on whether the disruption is a manifestation of mental or physical presence.” Her voice grew steadily more toneless as she went on.

Hiding behind medical detachment, Shining thought. I don’t know how you manage it. Out loud, he said, “That still doesn’t solve the issue of Luna. Any ideas on how you’re going to convince her?”

Twilight got up and walked to the other side of the room. “Are you even listening?” Shining shouted at her back.

“I’m thinking,” Twilight snapped back. Shining shut his mouth and ground his teeth. If she needed to think, she needed to think. He’d wait. She stayed silent for a long, painful minute. “You need to go back to the camp,” she finally said.

Shining blinked. “Are you serious? After all the trouble I went through to get here? I’m not leaving you now, not when it’s obvious you need my help!”

“You will be helping me!” Twilight shot back. “You’re right. If and when Luna finds out what that stallion can do, she’s going to strike, and hard. I need you to find her and buy me some time.”

“For what? Twily, you can’t run from her.”

“I’m not going to,” Twilight said. “I need time to send him back.”

That gave Shining pause. “Send him back? Are you sure that’s even possible?”

“Every process is reversible. If Celestia can bring him here, then I can send him home.” Twilight chewed her lip. “I just don’t know how.”

Whatever Shining had been about to say was cut off as Applejack pounded up the stairs and barged through the door. “Twilight?” she said. “We, uh… we’ve got a situation.”

With quick, practiced flows of magic, Luna pitched her tent under the shade of a large walnut tree. Beside her, Fairweather hunched over a ring of stones, working on lighting a small fire. He hadn’t said a word to her during the entire trek.

The other Guards set up their own tents well away from hers and Fairweather’s, casting worried glances at them the entire time. Their wariness was justified. The tension between her and Fairweather was palpable, and Shining’s disappearance hadn’t helped matters one bit.

Luna was fine with that. As long as they did their jobs, she could care less about whether they were happy or not. She let the silence stretch, and made some adjustments to tighten her tent’s canvas sides.

“How do ye think he’s doing?” Fairweather abruptly said under his breath.

Luna stiffened momentarily. She hadn’t actually expected the major to speak to her. “Shining Armour is a capable soldier. I am certain he is doing well.”

“Ye’d better hope he is,” Fairweather replied. He said nothing more for a time, absently striking the back of a knife against a rod of fire-steel.

Luna took the opportunity to settle into her tent. Most of the other Guards lined theirs with evergreen boughs, but she preferred sleeping on the bare ground. That was the way she’d done it in the past, and it was the way she’d do it now.

“Ah think Ah’ve got you figured out,” Fairweather said again. “Or your little plan, at least.”

Luna fixed him with a smile filled with as much smugness as she could muster. “Enlighten me.”

“Princess Celestia ordered ye to bring back that stallion alive,” Fairweather said, striking a shower of sparks onto a pile of tinder. “You didn’t seem happy about it back in Canterlot, an’ ye seem less happy about it now.”

“My sister does not ‘order’ me to do anything,” Luna replied, bristling. “She may ask things of me, but she does not order me around!”

Fairweather smiled, and she shut her mouth with a snap. “That’s exactly wha’ Ah’m talking about,” he said. “Shining’s just the start, isn’t he? You wanted to muck things up to the point where that stallion would end up dead by accident. Either that, or you’ve sent ‘im along to speed things up. Give you a sign of where he is. Then ye’d strike out on your own and settle things the way you think they should be settled.” He struck the knife against the fire-steel again, sending a shower of sparks down onto the pile of tinder. “Ye’d get your way, and Princess Celestia would be none the wiser.”

Luna glared back at him. “You watch your tongue, Fairweather,” she hissed. “Even if your accusations were true, what would you possibly have to gain by telling me to my face?”

Fairweather bared his teeth in a hideous grin. “It gives me confirmation,” he replied, and walked away, leaving the fire unlit.

Luna bit back an angry retort and watched him walk to his tent, whistling infuriatingly through that gap his scar had left in his teeth. He’d have to be dealt with later.

She almost didn’t notice the scroll that suddenly appeared next to her. If it hadn’t been for the flash of magic, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. She glanced down and frowned at it in confusion, prodding it with a hoof. I wasn’t expecting any missives.

She sighed and unrolled it, frowning at the contents. From the magical aura about it, she knew immediately that it had been sent by her sister, but the penmanship was a far cry from Celestia’s usual standards.

Any thoughts of Fairweather’s impudence vanished as she scanned the short paragraph. One by one, pieces of the puzzle clicked together in her head. This letter explained much.

She looked down and read the last line, which had obviously been jotted down as an afterthought. Then reread it. And read it a third time.

With great care, she rerolled the letter and tucked it into the bag holding her armour. Strangely, she didn’t feel happy, reading her sister’s new orders. She supposed she should have felt elated, or at the very least satisfied. Instead, she just felt… she didn’t know how she felt. It was certainly an odd feeling to suddenly learn that all your plans had suddenly become unnecessary.

For a moment, she thought of Shining, who she had manipulated into going into the lion’s den, and of Fairweather, whose trust she had certainly lost, and felt a twinge of guilt.

What’s done is done. There was no taking her deeds back. All she could do now was move forward.

She closed her eyes and lit her horn, spreading her awareness outwards. Except instead of the dreamscape, she searched the layer of magic surrounding and permeating Ponyville, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Magic was never easy to sense in this manner. Searching it thoroughly would take time. But that didn’t really matter.

Nothing mattered, except undoing her sister’s mistake.

Twilight blinked as she followed Applejack down into the basement, her jaw falling open. “Wha…” she managed.

“Caught me off guard too,” Applejack said, giving Tex an anxious glance while he munched away. “It’s… not exactly somethin’ you see every day.”

“I’ll say,” Twilight said, walking down the steps and hesitantly stepping onto the carpet of grass her basement floor had become. Not just grass; wildflowers, mosses and creepers were dotted throughout the entire thing. A couple saplings even stretched upward. From what she could tell, her floorboards were gone, either rotted away or somehow transmuted into greenery.

“Any idea what caused it?” Applejack asked.

“There was a preservation spell on the floorboards down here,” Twilight admitted. “Damp conditions, you know. I’d forgotten about it.”

“But why didn’t it do this until Ah left the basement?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight replied impatiently. “I still don’t understand how this magic-negation thing works.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “This does give me an idea, though. I bet the magical fields around here would look really interesting. It might give me a couple clues.”

Applejack stepped back and let her concentrate. “You want me to leave, or…”

“No,” Twilight said, her horn glowing. “Stay. You work well as a control sample. Gives me something to compare against.”

Applejack frowned. “Uh… thanks. Ah guess.”

Twilight said nothing for a minute, her eyes flickering under closed lids. As the silence stretched, Applejack shifted uncomfortably. Her nose started itching unbearably, but she elected not to scratch it. Moving might mess with whatever Twilight was doing. “Huh,” Twilight said after a long pause. “That’s interesting.”

“What is?” Shining asked, having just walked onto the stairs. He blinked and did a double-take at the basement floor. “And what in Tartarus just happened to the floor?”

Twilight’s eyes suddenly shot open. “Uh oh,” she said.

Applejack frowned. “What do you mean, ‘uh oh?’” she asked in unison with Shining.

Twilight looked over at Tex. “We need to move. Now.”

Luna opened her eyes. She’d found him. And it was worse than she had thought.

Floating in an aura of magic, her armour rose out of where it had been carefully packed and affixed itself to her chest, neck and forelegs. She bent her neck to either side, feeling the segmented metal flex smoothly with her movements.

As the armour clicked and slid together, Luna felt a deadly calm overtake her.

It was time to hunt.

“Twily,” Shining asked. “What’s going on?”

Twilight tightened a knot in the stallion’s makeshift bridle with her teeth. “Luna,” she said breathlessly. “I sensed her while I was looking at the local thaumascape. She knows the stallion’s here.”

“Tex,” Applejack spoke up.

Twilight frowned at her. “I’m sorry?”

Applejack nervously tapped a hoof on the floor. “You, uh… told me to come up with a name. So Ah called him Tex.”

Twilight softened her stare. “Tex, then. Luna knows Tex is here.”

Shining knew better than to ask how she knew. It was one of the most basic lessons in magic. All unicorns left a characteristic residue on their spells. If you knew what to look for, it was a simple matter to identify whoever was casting, or had cast the spell, regardless of whether it was simple telekinesis, or looking at the thaumascape. “She’s coming, then,” he said instead.

“And if she knows what to look for…” Applejack started.

Twilight shushed her friend with a violent gesture. “I know!” she snapped. She checked herself and softened her tone. “I need to think.”

“Twily, we don’t have time to think,” Shining said. “Let me go and try to stall her. Maybe I can give you enough time to figure out how to send… how to send Tex home.” Strange, how giving the stallion a name changed things.

“No,” Twilight replied. “If what you told me is true, she won’t stop for anything. Not for you, not for me.” Her expression became thoughtful. “Unless…”

Luna stepped out of her tent, taking a moment to firmly set her lance along her back. She almost hadn’t brought the ancient weapon. It reminded her too much of days gone by. Days she’d rather remained forgotten. Now, she was glad she’d brought it. The thing was solid starsteel: hard and sharp enough to punch through dragonscale. More importantly, it didn’t have a spark of magic in it.

A Guard, heating lentils over the fire, caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and fell backwards, giving a yelp of surprise. A moment later, his alarm turned to embarrassment as he recognized her.

“Gather the others,” Luna said tonelessly.

When a pony spoke to you in that tone, it was never wise to question them. The Guard leapt to his hooves and galloped off without so much as a salute.

Luna let the slight go. The others had set up camp over a wide area. It would take a few minutes to gather them all. At any other time, the delay would have irked her, but now she didn’t mind.

She spent those few minutes staring into the coals. Watching as they slowly burnt down.

“Do you have a better plan?” Shining said, noticing Twilight’s thoughtfulness.

Twilight nodded. “I think so. Shining, how much do you know about erasing a trail with magic?”

Her brother blinked in confusion. “A little bit. It’s standard training for unicorns in the Guard.”

“You have five minutes to teach me. Applejack, how well do you know the Everfree?”

“Whoa, whoa!” Applejack said. “Twilight, you know what lives in the Everfree.”

“Answer the question,” Twilight replied.

Applejack sighed. “Reasonably well, Ah guess. Fluttershy’d know it better, but... how deep are we going?”

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “Not that deep,” she lied.

Applejack’s mouth set itself in a thin line. She’d caught the lie, then. “Don’t do that,” she said quietly. “Not to me.”

“Do you want to hear the plan or not?” Twilight asked, hoping to recover. The lie had been for her brother’s benefit, not Applejack’s, and the last thing she wanted was to have her friend give it away. When the other two stayed silent, she nodded and gave a rough outline.

Nine faces looked back at Luna, all waiting expectantly for what she had to say. Luna looked back, the image of composure. Inside that veil, her guts were roiling. She waited a moment longer before speaking, although in reality she was just putting it off.

“I have deceived you,” she said without preamble. “Some of you have already noticed, but from the beginning I had no intention of going along with my sister’s wishes.”

Fairweather blinked in obvious surprise, and frowned at her as if expecting some sort of ploy.

“From the beginning, I have been planning to turn this mission into an execution. The intention was to create such a volatile situation that violence was our only choice. That was why I manipulated Shining Armour into going to Ponyville. He was to act as a combination scout and catalyst, forcing the situation to escalate, at which point I would be ‘forced’ to intervene.”

She expected an outcry, or at the very least some wordless sounds of shock or disgust. The silence of the Guards in front of her was almost more difficult to bear.

Luna swallowed. This part would be the hardest to say. “That was a mistake. I fear I have risked the life of one of our finest Guards on my own stubbornness. Our target is far more dangerous than even I had feared. Shining may still be alive. He may not.”

Patches stepped forward, licking his lips nervously. “How do you know this?” he said carefully. “How dangerous that thing is. I mean… you haven’t left the camp.”

“My sister sent me a missive a few minutes ago. One of the unicorns in the castle found something very disturbing in her rooms. It would appear that the stallion has a severe disruptive effect on magic. All magic. She fears that if our stallion is allowed to roam, Equestria will die.”

She looked around, making eye contact with all of them. “I have no intention of letting this happen. I will go to Ponyville and end this once and for all. And if Shining has fallen… I will avenge him.”

Silence reigned in the camp. After a moment, Fairweather stepped forward. “Shining’s my friend. Ah’m no’ about to sit by and let you have all the fun.”

Patches straightened. “You’re not going anywhere without us.”

“For Shining,” another Guard said, stepping forward. One by one, the others followed suit.

“I deceived you,” Luna repeated. “I sent your leader into mortal danger. The responsibility is mine to bear! You would dishonour yourselves by continuing to follow me!”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Princess,” Fairweather said.

Luna looked around, bewildered. The Guards looked right back, ready to follow her wherever she went. A small spark of something appeared in her chest.

She set her jaw in a firm line. “Then follow me,” she said, turning. “We have a job to do.”

By the end of it, Applejack was doing her best to hide her fear, and concern had etched deep lines in her brother’s face. “Twilight,” he asked, his voice drawn and tight. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

“No,” Twilight said. “But it’s our best shot.” Her voice carried more conviction than she felt.

Applejack locked eyes with her. “You’d better be sure about this,” she said. “For your sake. And for Tex’s.”

Twilight swallowed and told her second lie of the day.

“I am.”

The haft of Luna’s starsteel lance knocked lightly against the segmented metal protecting her neck as she walked through Ponyville. Around her, ponies went about their business, setting up stalls, opening up shops, and sweeping the last bits of refuse from the storm off the streets. They acted like they didn’t see her, and as long as her cloak of shadows held, they wouldn’t.

In the thaumascape, they appeared as bright pinpricks of light rushing around her. Normally, they would look like they were swimming through a tranquil pool. Now, they seemed to be plowing through a lake whipped into a frenzy by a near-gale.

There wouldn’t be many tangible effects. Not yet. Now that she understood the stallion’s true capabilities, everything made sense. It had taken Celestia’s conclusions to pull everything together. The storm of the previous night had been the result of his entrance into Ponyville, much like the splash that resulted from dropping a boulder into water. After the splash died down, all that was left were waves.

Except these waves would grow gradually worse, spreading through the land, until the entire web of magic collapsed.

It was to the source of those waves that Luna was making her way towards.

Beside her, Fairweather and another Guard shuffled along, casting nervous glances at the ponies surrounding them. They were all Luna had allowed to accompany her. The others were moving to different points in the small town, cutting off likely avenues of retreat. “Bloody unnatural,” Fairweather said for the umpteenth time.

Luna ignored him. Her spell projected a very strong don’t-look-at-me sort of aura. They were so far beyond notice that they weren’t even worth perceiving. Fairweather could have been pounding on a drum and none of the ponies around them would have so much as flicked an ear.

The source of the disturbance was unmoving, surprisingly. The stallion had to know he was being pursued. That he chose to stay in one place meant he was an imbecile — or so confident in what he could do that he wasn’t afraid. Neither were encouraging.

Pushing aside her growing unease, she pushed on..

Sitting in the center of the library, Twilight opened her eyes. “She’s coming,” she said.

Shining stiffened. “How far?”

“Not far at all,” Twilight replied. “A couple minutes, at most. Are you ready?”

Shining glanced nervously at the door. “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “I really don’t see why you haven’t left yet.”

“As long as Tex is with us, Luna can track us,” Twilight said. “This is the only way.”

Shining nodded grimly, fixing his gaze back on the door and running magic through his horn.

Twilight closed her eyes again. “Really close now. Get ready, Applejack.”

Shining tensed. Applejack led Tex to the library’s back door, unconsciously running a hoof along the brim of her hat.

Abruptly, Twilight’s eyes flew open. “What is she—” she started, just as she felt a pulse of magic from the other side of the door.

The heavy oak door, which must have been as old as the tree itself, blew off its hinges and flew directly toward Twilight. She caught it with a fist of magic, knocking it to the side, where it crashed into a bookcase.

“Applejack, go!” she yelled, projecting a magical barrier around herself and watching with horrified fascination as Luna walked through the doorway, her expression murderous. Two ponies flanked her, lances at the ready.

I didn’t expect this, she thought.

Luna saw her and her face softened from rage into confusion. “Twilight?” she asked in a confused tone. “You’re all right? I thought you...” She trailed off as she saw Applejack all but shove Tex out the back door. “What are you doing?” she said faintly. “What are you doing!?”

Shining forced himself to his hooves, ignoring the ringing in his ears. Luna was standing right beside him, and another pony was stepping in beside her.

No plan survives its execution, he thought, scrambling back from the door. It was an old military adage, but like most, frightening in how often it proved itself true. The extra pony alone complicated matters. It suddenly made what he had been supposed to do a lot more difficult.

“What are you doing?” Luna said, staring in horror at the back door.

She started to move toward Twilight, unclasping a long, shining lance from its socket on her back. “What are you doing!?” she screamed.

The third pony rushed in. Fairweather. He looked down at Shining, his face creasing in relief, then confusion.

Shining hesitated for a split second.

Then let the spell snap into place.

Luna took one more step, and a shimmering lattice of purple threads appeared around her, freezing her where she stood. It was a modified shield spell, one that rendered its target completely immobile.

“What in the—” Fairweather started, before Shining wove similar spells around him and the last Guard.

Almost immediately, pain flared in Shining’s head as Luna lit her own horn, fighting to escape. He held on to the spell by sheer force of will.

“Twilight, go!” he snarled. “I don’t know how long I can hold this.”

But his sister took a step toward the frozen Princess, her face pensive. “Release her mouth,” she said.

“What?” Shining yelped.

“You heard me,” Twilight said, an odd look on her face. “I want to talk to her.” Shining looked back at her for a moment, and then did as she asked.

“Twilight, what are you thinking?” Luna asked the moment the threads around her jaw vanished. “Do you have any idea what that… that thing is capable of?”

“I do,” Twilight said calmly. “And I know what you want to do to him.” She stepped closer. “My brother is going to hold on to you. I’m going to take him to the Everfree, where you won’t be able to find him. And then I’m going to send him home.”

Luna flapped her mouth in shocked silence. “The Everfree?” she finally gasped. “Twilight, you can’t. You can’t! You don’t know what that could do!”

“You’re right,” Twilight agreed. “But if you insist on trying to kill Tex, it’s my only option.”

“You named it?” Luna snarled, contempt dripping from her voice.

Twilight stepped back. “That’s all I need to hear. Hold her as long as you can, Shining. I’m going to end this.” She directed a hard glance at Luna. “The right way.”

She turned and walked away. Luna stared helplessly after her until the back door closed. Then the assault on Shining’s spell redoubled.

Shining took a deep breath and sat down, putting all the focus he could muster into the spell.

Please be right, Twilight, he thought.

By the time Twilight had caught up, Applejack had nearly made it to the outskirts. “What in the hay took you so long?” she asked.

“Tried to reason with Luna,” Twilight panted. “Didn’t work.”

“Didn’t you say it wouldn’t?” Applejack replied, tugging on Tex’s lead.

“Worth a try.”

Applejack snorted and continued on. “Your brother okay?”

“He got knocked back a bit when Luna opened the door, but he should be able to hold her.” Twilight paused. “That… doesn’t mean we should relax, though.”

Applejack sighed and touched the brim of her hat. “Tell me something Ah don’t know.”

They walked in silence for a moment. The streets in this area were empty; everyone in this part of town was either at work or shopping in the main square.

“You never explained something,” Applejack spoke up. “Why can’t Luna track Tex in the Everfree?”

“Right before Luna found us,” Twilight answered, “I found something interesting. The disruption Tex made in the surrounding magical field looked a lot like the local field in the Everfree. Wild, untamed, that sort of thing. Theoretically, Tex should be able to blend in with it. It’s not an exact match, but it should be close enough to be confusing.”

“Should be?” Applejack replied. “Ah’m not sure how much Ah like the sound of that.”

Twilight looked nervously at Tex. Applejack caught the glance and sighed. “You still have no idea how to send him back, do you?”

Twilight hesitated before answering. And then nearly walked into a stallion in full armour. She yelped and stumbled back, knocking Applejack into Tex, who jumped back with a whinny of alarm.

“Are you all right?” the Guard asked, extending a hoof to help Twilight up. “You’ll have to be more careful in the…”

He looked at Tex and froze, his eyes going wide. Twilight didn’t even think. She just lashed out with a spell. The Guard collapsed bonelessly, his eyes rolling up in his head.

“Land sakes, Twilight!” Applejack exclaimed, looking down at the limp Guard. “What’d you do to him?”

“Knock out spell,” Twilight replied automatically, eyes fixed on the Guard. “At least I think it was. I hope it was.”

Applejack could see panic beginning to rise in her eyes. “Come on,” she said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “Nothing we can do now. Let’s get a move on before more show up.”

Twilight nodded jerkily. “Yeah,” she said.

Applejack led her onward, watching as the tension melted from her body. Typical Twilight. She’d stand up to Luna if it was planned, but as soon as the plan started to fall apart…

She threw the thought out of her head. No use thinking about that. All plans had room for a couple failures. They were still moving, they were still breathing, and that meant it was going well.

The pain in Shining’s head finally abated, leaving behind a dull ache between the eyes. He let out a gasp and opened his eyes, suddenly aware that he was drenched in sweat.

Luna had kept fighting for far longer than he’d originally anticipated, pushing him to his limits. Yet his shield spell still held. By their very nature, they were difficult to break out of by magical means, but Luna had certainly tried.

He chanced a look at her. She still glared at his through the shimmering threads, but her eyes held the trademark dullness of magical exhaustion. It had been a close thing. If Shining had tried holding her at night, when she was at her strongest…

He dismissed the notion. It was daytime, and for that he was thankful.

Still, holding Luna was taking its toll. He couldn’t sustain the spell much longer. And when she got out… she might have been exhausted magically, but that wicked-looking lance didn’t need much magic to wield.

Applejack came to a halt beside a tree and reluctantly passed Tex’s lead over to Twilight. The stallion followed, nuzzling Twilight’s shoulder and nickering softly. “There you go,” she said. “He’s all yours.”

Twilight took the lead in her mouth, not trusting her magic this close to Tex, not to mention this far into the Everfree. “Stick to the plan,” she mumbled around the rope.

Applejack sighed. “Yeah. I’ll do that.” What are you not telling me? her tone said. What don’t you trust me enough to know?

There was a potential setback far greater than sending Tex back. The Everfree’s magical field was similar in principle to Tex’s disruptive effect, but it was still magic, just more wild and untamed. At the outskirts, it was minimal, but for Tex to be truly hidden, they had to delve deep into the forest, where the Everfree’s unique magic would be at its strongest.

And Twilight had no idea what would happen when the two clashed.

It wasn’t something she cared to dwell on. She simply nodded to Applejack and struck off into the forest, leading Tex along beside her. Behind her, Applejack waited a moment and went in a different direction. As soon as she did, Twilight lit her horn and cautiously wove the spell Shining had taught her. The prints her hooves had left in the soft loam shimmered and vanished.

Twilight eyed the results with satisfaction and moved on.

The Everfree, as usual, was eerily silent. As she moved deeper into the forest, the canopy thickened, until only small patches of sunlight remained. Curtains of moss hung from gnarled trees, and the air became thick and still.

Twilight shivered as she stepped over a protruding root. In some ways, the silence was even worse than having something actively stalking her. Silence let the imagination run wild.

Behind her, Tex snorted and stepped over the root. At the same time, a rotted branch gave way and crashed to the ground. Twilight jumped and gave a yelp of surprise, and Tex scrambled toward her, tripping over the root in the process.

Without even thinking, Twilight reached out to catch him with magic, realizing her mistake a moment too late. Predictably, the spell unraveled, but what happened next surprised her.

Instead of dissolving into nothing, the spell twisted and writhed around Tex, sparking fiercely. Tex himself couldn’t sense it, but he could sense the smell of ozone that suddenly sprang up around him. He whinnied and jumped to his hooves, and the spell abruptly collapsed into a pulse of… something. Whatever it was, Twilight’s horn started burning as soon as it reached her.

She blinked against the pain, waiting for it to recede. It didn’t. It just intensified. She gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as tears streamed from them. All around her, she could feel the Everfree’s magic reacting to the pulse. The air whipped itself into a gale, sending the limbs of the ancient trees whipping back and forth. The ground started shaking, and Twilight started hearing muffled concussions as buried stones sheared and split.

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Except all around her, she could hear howls. The creatures of the Everfree were all crying out in one, surprised voice. For a moment, she thought the howls would begin to converge upon her, but instead they did something even more alarming.

They fled.

Applejack heard the wind first. She blinked in surprise as the air started to stir. The air never stirred in the Everfree. It only hung, dead and cloying.

Then she felt the pulse. It tore through her, ripping the strength from her limbs and sending her to her knees.

Then came the screams.

Applejack sat and stared dumbly as a timberwolf crashed through the bush into her clearing. It turned those baleful green eyes on her and snarled.

It wasn’t the snarl of a hunter about to pounce. It was the snarl of a fleeing animal whose escape had just been cut off. Numbly, Applejack forced herself out of the way. Without hesitating, the timberwolf sprinted past her and into the bush, kicking up clods of earth in its haste.

No matter what happens, don’t come after me, Twilight had said. You need to lay a false trail. If Luna escapes, you need to keep her as far away from me as you can.

“Stick to the plan,” Applejack said under her breath. “This wasn’t part of the plan, Twi.”

At first, Shining mistook the itching in his horn for a symptom of magical exhaustion. That wouldn’t have been surprising. But then he saw the confusion in Luna’s eyes. Confusion that quickly turned to horror.

An instant later, something changed. A wave of something tore through him. His vision doubled, and bile rose in his throat. His magic thrashed free of his grasp, screaming all the while. Or maybe that was him. He couldn’t tell any more.

A hoof touched his shoulder, and suddenly the tumult stopped. Shining shut his mouth — it seemed that screaming had been him after all — and looked up at Princess Luna. Magic continued to rage and seethe around him. He could feel it. But Luna radiated stability and order.

“Can you stand?” she asked, her voice full of strain. Shining suddenly realized her horn was glowing. Seemingly, she’d found a hidden reserve of strength. He nodded, not trusting his voice. Judging from how raw his throat felt, he wouldn’t have been able to muster more than a pitiful croak.

“I cannot maintain this for long,” Luna said. “As soon as I stop projecting myself, the chaos will come crashing back. It will not be pleasant, but the worst of it has passed. You will be able to withstand it.”

“What happened?” Shining rasped.

Luna gave him a flat look. “Your sister has made a dire mistake. Do not blame yourself. You were not wrong to trust her.” She stepped away. “But you were wrong to take her side. Fairweather. Take Shining back to the camp. See what Patches can do for him.”

“Luna,” Shining croaked. The Princess looked back at him. “Don’t hurt her.”

Luna’s face softened. “I won’t,” she promised.

Twilight raised her head, blinking tears from her eyes. A soft shower of dislodged leaves fell to the ground. Beside her, Tex sniffed hesitantly at a crack that had split the earth six inches from his hoof.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. What was there to say? There really were no words to describe how she felt. Instead she closed her eyes and opened her awareness to the thaumascape, dreading what she would find.

What she saw made chills run through her. The pulse had thrown magic into flux for kilometres. Somehow, the Everfree had magnified Tex’s effect on normal magic. To make things worse, Tex’s presence was no longer masked. If anything, it was more obvious than before. If Luna didn’t know exactly where he was, she was blind.

Twilight grabbed Tex’s lead and hurried on, crashing blindly through the brush. Behind her, Tex tossed his head and whinnied in protest, although thankfully he didn’t resist her. She came into a small clearing and stopped. What was the point of running? No matter where she went, Luna would find them.

She dropped the lead and looked back at Tex. The stallion gazed back at her with those soft eyes, completely unaware of what was happening. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I thought… I thought I’d have more time.”

She tightened her jaw. So what was she going to do now? Just sit and wait until Luna arrived? No!

With a shake of her shoulders, she swung her saddlebag onto the ground. Out came a battered, familiar-looking book. Multiverses.

Science was all about standing on the shoulders of giants, and using that foundation to build something greater. Tangent had gotten close to figuring out how to move entities between universes. She’d almost figured it out before disappearing, and Princess Celestia had obviously closed the gap. If she could figure it out, so could Twilight.

She flipped through the book, scouring the spells, diagrams, and wild speculations. Most of it was familiar. She’d skimmed the book months ago on a whim, and discarded it after seeing just how wild the theories were. Now she pored through it with intensity, knowing that every second she spent looking at the page was a second she couldn’t spare.

Almost on their own, pieces began to fit together in her head. If she modified a teleportation spell, and instead envisioned space as the thing to be transported…

She channeled magic through her horn and started weaving. Almost immediately, the spell began shaking like a rickety building. Fighting the rising tide of hopelessness, she let it die away and looked through the book again for something she’d missed.

The second attempt yielded the same result. The third lasted perhaps half a second longer. The fourth nearly blew up in her face. The entire time, Tex stood there, nibbling on a patch of grass.

Twilight tried again, blinking sweat from her eyes. She would not be beaten by this! The spell, radically revised from the previous one, started to take shape. Yes! she thought, adding one more element.

Then watched in dismay as the entire thing collapsed into a tangled mess. She gritted her teeth until she felt her jaw creak, and banished the spell. Tex, sensing her anxiety, walked over and nuzzled her shoulder.

Twilight looked over at him. It’s okay, the stallion’s eyes said. You tried.

“It’s not okay,” she choked.

“Twilight, you could not be more correct.”

Twilight jumped and instinctively positioned herself between Tex and Princess Luna, who had just stepped out from between two gnarled trees. She gestured with the tip of a wicked-looking lance. “Step aside.”

“No!” Twilight said, ignoring the quaver in her voice. “I almost have it! I can send him home!”

“You had your chance,” Luna said coldly. “And you failed. Stand aside. Please.”

A hot surge of anger suddenly rose in Twilight’s chest. “I have not failed!” she snarled, lighting her horn and slamming a spell into Luna. The Princess was caught by surprise and knocked backwards into a tree trunk. The lance fell from her magical grip and clattered onto the ground.

Twilight’s ears went flat. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “I… I didn’t mean…”

Luna raised her head, a terrifying fire burning in her eyes. A blue flash filled Twilight’s vision, and suddenly she was lying on her side a good three metres to the right, a coppery taste filling her mouth. Tex reared, whinnying, and stepped forward.

“Close your eyes, Twilight,” Luna ordered, raising her lance.

Sudden strength flooded through Twilight’s frame. No. She forced herself to her hooves, lighting her horn.

Time seemed to slow. Luna hurled the lance at Tex with a flick of her head. The starsteel head hurtled toward his heart with deadly accuracy.

Twilight wove a spell she’d performed dozens of times before. She vanished in a flash of purple and instantly reappeared between Tex and Luna. Watching the lance fly toward her.

Her second spell was already prepared. All she had to do was let it go. A dense, purple shield sprang up around her. An instant later, the lance crashed against it with a clear, bell-like peal. Pain lanced through Twilight's head as the spell absorbed the impact. Gritting her teeth, she strengthened the spell, pouring every scrap of strength she had left into it. It wasn't enough. An instant after the lance struck, her shield spell bent inwards. It was a slight flex; almost imperceptible. The flex became a dent. The dent became a fissure. The fissure became a tear.

Twilight's shield shattered, breaking into a thousand motes of coherent magic. Time slowed to a crawl. Twilight watched the lance fly towards her with an odd sort of fascination. It looked like it was barely moving, as if it was traveling through jelly. Sparkling motes of magic fell all around it, bathing it in prismatic hues as they blinked out of existence.

Luna’s face was still frozen in a snarl of aggression. She looked back at Tex, who was standing still in mid-whinny. There was no fear in his eyes. Luna had hurt the pony who had showed him kindness, and he was defending her. Not a second later, their roles had been reversed.

There was no time to prepare a second spell. No time to dodge. Even if there had been time, the thought of moving out of the way never even crossed Twilight's mind.

It was odd how the threat of imminent death cleared the mind. Twilight was thinking more clearly than she had in years. Everything fell together in her head with razor-sharp clarity. The solution was so simple that it just hadn't occurred to her. The problem wasn’t the structure of the spell. It was in the magic itself.

Magic was energy. It couldn’t be destroyed, only converted. It flowed through everything, living or not. Tex was no exception. The disruption he had on her magic wasn't a negation so much as a conversion to his form of magic. A magic Twilight wasn't able to sense at the time. That magic was just… different. More subtle. Like a line in a song, hidden underneath the melody.

Like a harmony.

Just like that, her awareness opened to the alien magic. It had been there the entire time, steadily growing in strength as Tex converted more and more of Equestria's magic. Twilight just hadn't known what to look for. At first, her mind instinctively recoiled, but she somehow forced herself to channel it. Maybe she wasn’t channeling it at all. Maybe it was Tex providing the magic, and she was just shaping it. In the end, it didn’t really matter.

Twilight formed the spell. The alien magic flowed stubbornly at first, but with steadily growing ease, and wrapped around Tex without collapsing. And why would it? It was his own magic, after all.

She wove the spell with care, making sure it was perfect. There would be no second chances.

Finally satisfied, she released the spell. Tex vanished, leaving nothing but four hoofprints in the loam. Her awareness of Tex’s magic disappeared, likely forever. Time sped back up to normal.

And Luna’s starsteel lance crashed into her chest.

The impact knocked Twilight back into the space Tex had previously occupied. Her breath rushed out of her, but strangely she couldn’t draw it back in.

She had expected pain. Instead, she just felt… cold. An awful cold, radiating from the metal lodged in her chest. She shivered. Stars, why is it so cold?

She saw the expression on Luna’s face. The snarl vanished, replaced by confusion. Then understanding, and then horror. “Twilight!” she howled, although the sound was strangely distant.

Twilight tried to smile at her, but nothing was working the way it should have been. Why was Luna so upset? She thought the Princess would be happy, knowing Tex was home.

“Twilight,” Luna said, cradling her head. “Twilight, look at me.”

She wanted to, but she was just so tired. The spell had taken a lot out of her. And it was so cold.

“It’s okay,” she tried to say. Nothing came out, through. Maybe if she slept, everything would work right again.

She closed her eyes. From far away, she felt magic. Lots of magic.

Then she felt nothing at all.

Epilogue

Scrape… scrape… scrape…

She twitched her ears. What was that sound? Couldn’t whatever was making it see she was trying to sleep?

Scrape… scrape… scrape…

Maybe she could sleep through it. She was just so tired.

Scrape… scrape… scrape…

She frowned. All right, maybe she couldn’t. What even was that? She opened her eyes, and looked around. Bare white walls, a strong smell of antiseptic… was she in an infirmary? Why was she in an infirmary?

She looked to her left, toward the source of the scraping. A grey pegasus hunched over a misshapen piece of soapstone, worrying away at it with a rasp. From the look of it, the pile of dust on the floor was far more impressive than whatever he was carving. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware that she was thirsty. She looked around again, hoping to find a pitcher of water. To her delight, there was one, but it was on a table beside the pegasus. At the moment, all she could move was her neck. She tried calling out, but the only sound she could make was a dry rasp.

The pegasus ignored her, and kept filing away. Honestly, if he was trying to reduce the piece of soapstone to dust, he was doing a fine job.

She tried calling out again, but the sound was lost as the door creaked open. A white alicorn walked through, casting a worried look at the pegasus. “Is there any change?” she asked.

The pegasus shook his head. “No’ yet,” he replied. “She’ll wake eventually. Ah know she will.”

The alicorn sighed, and looked over at her — and froze. “Twilight?” she whispered.

Yes, Twilight. Twilight Sparkle. That was her name. The pegasus was Fairweather, the alicorn was Princess Celestia, and…

Everything came flooding back. Tex, the Everfree, Luna…

She forced her hoof to move, to try and pull down the blanket covering her chest. She had to see it.

Celestia’s hoof stopped her. “Not yet,” she said. “You’ve… you’ve been through a lot.”

Twilight looked back at her. She could make out the faint shadows of bruises on her mentor’s neck and back. Celestia’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her feathers were in disarray. Looks like I can say the same about you. She tried to say so, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate.

“Here,” Celestia said, levitating a glass of water toward her. Twilight drank greedily, spilling down her chin.

She sat back, exhausted by the effort. But she still had strength for one word. “Tex?” she gasped.

Celestia paused for a moment. “Gone,” she finally said. “You truly did something special back there.”

Twilight frowned. There was something else. Something important. It took her a few moments to remember what it was. “Friends?” she said with the last of her strength.

“In the room down the hall,” Celestia replied. “Sleeping. They insisted on keeping vigil, but I managed to convince them to rest after a day and a half.”

Content, Twilight closed her eyes.

When she awoke again, she was alone. The sun slanted through the window at a sharper angle than before. More important than that was the strength that now flowed through her. She lifted a hoof, shaking with the effort. A newborn foal could have managed better, but it was still an improvement.

Now for another test. Moving slowly, she shifted the covers and placed her rear hooves on the floor. So far, so good. Her front hooves joined her rear ones. She took a breath. Her legs were shaky, but they held her.

She carefully began walking around the room, gaining confidence with each step. A wall-mounted mirror at the far side of the room caught her eye. She stopped dead, eyes widening. Then took a few steps closer to make sure she was seeing right.

With a trembling hoof, she reached up to touch the area on her chest that had been shaved, and the six-inch scar that meandered across it. A half-memory of a shining lance flashed through her mind. She shivered. It had been cold. She remembered that much.

“I expected you to still be asleep.”

Twilight stiffened. She hadn’t heard the door open. But she didn’t turn around. She just watched as Princess Celestia joined her at the mirror.

“How?” she whispered.

“Luna,” Celestia said. “She petrified you. It was risky, but it… kept you alive until we could bring you here. It gave us time to bring in the best healers we could find, but... it was still close. Too close.”

“Were you there?”

Celestia paused for a long time. “Yes,” she finally said. “I was there.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said.

“No,” Celestia replied with sudden vehemence. “Don’t apologize. You did what you had to.”

Twilight shook her head. “Back there, in the Everfree… I knew I was going to die. That’s how I was able to send him back.” She studied the scar again. “I should have died.”

Princess Celestia made an odd sound beside her. Twilight looked up, and saw that she was biting her lip, tears overflowing from her eyes. “Never do that to me again,” she whispered fiercely. “Never.”

Twilight reached out and touched her shoulder. The Princess responded by reaching out with a wing and hugging her close. She nuzzled her mentor’s neck, a chill running down her spine. What must it have been like for her? Seeing her brought in by a panicking Luna, petrified and impaled by a spear?

“I don’t blame you,” she said quietly.

Celestia stiffened. “Is that the truth?” she asked.

Twilight took a moment to search herself. None of this would have happened if Celestia had not accidentally brought Tex into their world. But for the life of her, she couldn’t find a shred of blame for it. Or for anyone involved. None of them had been truly prepared for what happened.

She nodded. With that simple movement, she felt the tension drain out of her mentor. Her own breath hitched, and she felt her vision became misty with tears.

Abruptly, Princess Celestia stepped away. “Your friends will want to know you’re awake,” she said, her cool demeanor back in place.

My friends, Twilight thought, a twinge of guilt appearing in her chest. She hadn’t given any thought as to how her actions might have affected them. She would have some apologizing to do, it seemed.

But there was one thing she had to ask.

“Princess,” she said. “Did… did I do the right thing?”

Celestia looked at her for a long moment. “Yes,” she finally said. “You did.”

She left, leaving Twilight to stare at the door and think. A long moment later, a chorus of excited voices erupted from the other side and her five friends burst in, surrounding her, every one trying to ask her own question.

Twilight said nothing and instead drew them all into a group hug. They understood her intent and hugged her back, content, as if suddenly everything was right in the world.

And perhaps, for a brief moment, it was.

Author's Note

Finally, my pet project for more time than I'd care to admit is done. Like it or not, know that I'm happy with how it turned out.

I need to give extra special thanks to Bronius Maximus for this one. He put up with my constant revisions, rewrites and reworkings of the idea, and my crippling insecurity about getting it published. He listened patiently while I muddled out every detail I could think of in exhaustive detail. And he badgered me to finish it when a few minor plot walls stalled my progress. I make no exaggeration when I say that this could not have been written without him.