Welcome to my very first MLP fanfiction! This is an idea I've had rattling around my head for a while. It starts out relatively slow and my OC isn't revealed until a little later in the plot, but trust me, this is going to be pretty deep and intense. Rated M for safety (some TwilightxCelestia and much later OCxRarity, and romance/violence/blood/terror later on). Also, this operates from my own headcanon and the events post-Season 2, not taking Season 3 into account.

General Disclaimer: I don't own MLP or any of the characters/locations/names. They belong to Hasbro or the Hub or Lauren Faust or other copyright holders.

-Update 10/22/13: Chapter twelve is live and also I've gone back and fixed some more errors. Each chapter now has a time system of sorts so the timeline and flow is easier to understand. Reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading! :D

CHAPTER ONE: DOUBTS

October 4, 1402 A.C. (Anno Celestia)

Equestria

"So tell me again, Twilight, why are we back in Canterlot so soon?" asked a small purple-and-green dragon named Spike. "Weren't we just here for the wedding two months ago? I had too much fun from the LAST party. Not to mention the after party in Ponyville that Pinkie Pie threw for everypony. And then the party after that one." His voice dropped to a mutter. "God, the confetti… took me all night to get the glitter out of my ears, too. And my scales were covered in chocolate frosting."

The lavender unicorn tossed back her mane and looked at her assistant. "Yes, Spike, but I've had something on my mind since then and I think the answer might be here in the Archives. I couldn't let it go any longer because my schedule is completely filled after tomorrow. There's the appointment I have with Rarity tomorrow at the spa, and then our annual fall camping trip is coming up too."

"What's so important that it couldn't wait until…"- Spike stifled a large yawn- "…later in the day?"

Spike, of course, resented being parted from his basket for the pre-dawn trip to Canterlot. Somewhere on the upper floor of the three-story library he shared with Twilight Sparkle was a blue blanket calling his name. He was no fan of Twilight's disorienting teleportation spells either.

Over the past few months, the pony had improved her mastery of the spell and loved to practice it around the house, constantly popping in and out of the air with purple bursts of magic and startling the fire right out of Spike. Twilight had nowhere near the range and finesse of a powerful alicorn such as Princess Celestia, but had learned to travel between Ponyville and Canterlot with a series of short-range jumps. She could also bring Spike along with her, provided he was on her back or at least holding onto her hoof, and deliver both herself and her assistant with reasonable accuracy. Although there was that one time when she missed and ended up teleporting us right into Celestia's washroom, Spike thought ruefully. That was awkward. The spell moved matter instantaneously across distances and the sensation was like a sudden, concussive seasickness no matter what the distance traveled. He had no clue how Twilight endured it.

"Spike, the morning is the most special time of day! My mind is always at its sharpest after a good night's sleep. I'm also alert late at night too, which makes no sense when you think about it. So if I'm alert at any time of the day, then how do I explain how I get tired all the time? Besides that, we got to watch Princess Celestia raise the sun! Not just anypony gets front-row seats."

"Which we used to have, every day when we lived here in Canterlot," Spike remarked.

Twilight rolled her eyes. She nodded her head in greeting to two of the guards flanking the Starswirl the Bearded wing of the Archives, indicating that she wanted access. The armored unicorn guards bowed to her and unlocked the gate with a sweep of their horns.

To Twilight, these massive wooden doors were like the very walls of Canterlot. They represented the dividing line between knowledge and the lack of it. To pass through them was to enter another country, a country with borders of towering marble and rivers of parchment. She took a deep breath and inhaled the lively aroma of history.

She gazed at the main shelves that were taller than eight ponies standing atop one another, their top shelves only reachable via ladders. The amount of precious scrolls and tomes in these shelves always took Twilight's breath away. Knowledge existed from hundreds of years ago, even from before Princess Luna's banishment to the moon and some that preceded Princess Celestia herself. When she was a filly and under the Princess's personal guidance, she had once heard that there were magical documents stored here that even Celestia would not study or touch.

---

Eleven years ago…

After officially making Twilight Sparkle her protégé, the graceful alicorn began by giving her a tour of the palace and the Archives. The Princess's golden shoes made tinkling sounds on the stone floor. She laughed musically at Twilight's open-mouthed face when the filly saw all the books. "Impressive, is it not? The work of centuries and more magical knowledge than even I know."

Twilight exuded pure excitement. Her eyes were as big as ripe apples, mouth open in wonder as she tried to take in all the sights at once. "There is much you do not know about magic, little one. A lot of ponies forget that there were times in Equestria's history when magic was used to harm as well as heal; when ponies cast spells with the intent to take the lives of other ponies. We live in peaceful times now but some of the knowledge of that time survives in this library. A reminder of the mistakes we made, if you will."

Little Twilight could not make sense of this cryptic talk. Ponies killing other ponies? Death was only a vague and terrifying concept to her, heard in stories and never experienced, and the word itself sounded sinister. She shuddered and drew close to the Princess's knee.

Princess Celestia realized that she had scared Twilight by mentioning such things; she stroked Twilight's mane with her golden hoof and said, "You have nothing to fear from learning magic, dear Twilight. But there are things that you should stay away from until you are old enough to understand them and not fear them. Magic is a gift to unicorns and we have to use it responsibly and teach it to the next generation. Someday you will become a great and wise magician as well."

She looked up at Celestia with wide eyes. The moment of fear had passed and she knew that her teacher would keep her safe. Celestia set her hoof on Twilight's shoulder and led her through the ancient shelves.

---

"Ummm… Twilight? Equestria to Twilight." Spike waved his claw in front of Twilight's face. "Don't tell me you're having those trances again."

"Sorry, Spike. Just a flashback."

That was, as she recalled, the first time she had heard Princess Celestia's soft and mischievous laugh. She learned a lot about her Princess during the years she lived in Canterlot, including a more playful persona she usually kept hidden from royalty and those who were not close to her personally. This persona tended to burst out of her at unexpected times, in often strange ways, and Twilight loved her more for it. One could not ask for a better teacher. Her heart fluttered with excitement on possibly seeing the Princess again and a slight flush graced her cheeks, something that was not unnoticed by Spike. The dragon sighed and chalked it up to one of her 'moments'.

A minute later, Twilight could not figure out why she had blushed when she thought of the Princess. Maybe there's just too much on my mind these days.

The pair slowly walked through the rows of texts. This was the Starswirl the Bearded wing, named after the famed unicorn who lived before Equestria's founding, and the texts here all related to magic in some way. The rows to her right held magical history and the genealogies of long-forgotten unicorns; to her left were spellbooks of all stripes. The stone pillars of this place were breathtaking.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you're looking for, so I can help you?" said Spike.

Twilight stalked among the aisles, nosing the spines of book after book. She loved the smell of books. That dry, dusty, inviting aroma that tickled her nose and often made her sneeze, if the book had not been dusted recently- it made her feel complete inside. Not wanting to look silly in front of her assistant, Twilight sheepishly backed away from the books and muttered their titles under her breath. "50 Incantations for the Inept… Magical Maladies… The Beginner's Guide to Herbalism…Essential Creation Spells…"

Finally she turned to Spike, remembering that he was staring pointedly at her. "Okay Spike, if you want to help, you can look for anything related to combat."

"Whatever, Twilight. You're the boss." Her dragon assistant waddled halfway down an aisle before stopping and whirling in midair. "Wait, did you say- combat? Like, combat combat? Like, the combat where you're combatting things?"

"Yes, Spike, that's right." Twilight's horn issued magenta sparks as her magic lifted books from the shelves and flicked through their pages. Spike opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it, knowing Twilight's odd research phases better than most. He shrugged and resumed his search. Outside, Celestia's sun cast dancing rays of light onto the library floor.

It was a beautiful day and Spike wished he were somewhere else than this dusty old archive. I wonder what my beautiful lady Rarity is doing today, he thought, as cartoonish hearts appeared in his eyes. Two hours and hundreds of scrolls later, the search was still inconclusive.

"I just don't understand it," said Twilight wearily. "It's almost like something is missing. See, Spike, right here? Every work on Creation magic is catalogued in this section, and to its right is Alteration. Alteration magic, which is when a unicorn fundamentally modifies the properties of a physical substance into a different one that can take any shape but must retain the mass of the original, is opposed by Illusion which instead of transmuting physical substances, focuses on manipulating living and organic matter. My teleportation spell would come under this classification." She rambled on at breakneck speed, forgetting about her open-mouthed and glazed-eyed assistant. "So if Creation magic, which is the study of drawing matter out of void into existence, then where is its opposing force? It certainly can't be the magical history section or the beginners' spell section behind me."

Spike finally had enough. "TWILIGHT!" he nearly shouted, interrupting her monologue. "What are you even saying?"

"Oh- I'm sorry, Spike. Just thinking out loud."

"The only thing I'm missing right now is that delicious sapphire I found the other day." Spike licked his lips. "And not to mention we missed most of this gorgeous day!"

Twilight finally agreed to take a lunch break from all the exhaustive research. One of her favorite restaurants in downtown Canterlot, The Herb Garden, featured a clover and tulip sandwich with baby alfalfa that Twilight loved. Gems for her dragon assistant were also available as a special order. Because the store's owner, a golden-maned Earth pony aptly named Rosemary, remembered her from earlier years, Twilight and Spike received a prime table on the patio from which they could watch the comings and goings on the busy street.

Spike lounged in his chair and munched happily on a ruby but Twilight ate her lunch in relative silence. Today was a perfect day: picturesque white fluffy clouds, a cool breeze courtesy of the pegasi at Cloudsdale, and the smell of mountain air and sunshine. She realized then just how much she missed Canterlot. She would not trade her new Ponyville home for anything, or the ponies whom she loved so dearly, but the eighteen years she had spent in Canterlot made her a city pony at heart and she would always feel at ease here. There was safety and serenity behind its guarded walls. The clean cobblestone streets and the vibrant towers called to her. A crisp alpine breeze teased her mane.

And the Princess lives here, said a small thought in her mind. She pushed it away and focused on the day's problem, a problem that even the Archives had failed to solve. The Archives had never let her down before and she didn't understand it. Were there no books at all on fighting, other than that pitiful excuse for a defense spellbook? Surely there had to be.

Spike understood even less. "Let me get this straight, Twilight. You've been thinking about combat for the last week? Nothing else, just combat." Spike liked the word 'combat.' It sounded important and daring, like something Princess Celestia's highest-ranking guards or the Wonderbolts might do.

"Well- yes. I mean no, not all the time. But you remember Princess Cadance's wedding, when the changeling queen impersonated her? Look at how close to a disaster that was."

"And so you wanted to do more combatting but you didn't know how?" Spike said thickly around a mouthful of gemstones. "It looked like you did lots of it! You, and Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie and Rarity, doing lots of combat to those changelings. And then Celestia got combatted by that changeling queen, but you combatted her better."

"Spike, that's not what that word means! It means- well, combat. Fighting. Battle. Defending oneself from danger. At least I think so. Personally, I've never read anything on the subject because the subject itself seems to be in dire need of research. There is no research!" she huffed.

The dragon's green eyes widened. "Oh. So you were- combatting with them. Does that make more sense?"

"Yes, but that's not what I'm trying to say. I'm trying to tell you that I want to know about it, and there's no book in the Archives about it! It's almost like- no, that can't be right-" She let her sandwich, which she had been levitating to her mouth with magic, drop to the plate. "I wonder if they were removed at some point in time."

"But then who could remove books from the- BLAAUGH!" Spike burped a green fireball in mid-sentence and a scroll flew out with Celestia's royal seal. He covered his mouth quickly; Twilight hastened to read it.

To my dearest student Twilight Sparkle:

One of my guards brought it to my attention that you are here in Canterlot today. I did not know you and Spike were planning a visit, or I would have made a few preparations for your arrival, but I cannot help feeling thankful for this coincidence. There have been several things on my mind lately that I have only been able to share with my sister and considering the events of Princess Cadance's wedding and certain other happenings of late, I think it time for you to be filled in on one or two matters. If you have no other plans for this evening, meet me at sunset in my personal chambers. The guards have been instructed to allow you passage. There is much I wish to tell you.

As you know, your old quarters in the Palace have been given to another pony since you moved to Ponyville, but there is a spare chamber here in my rooms that is suitable for your use tonight.

I await your response.

Your teacher and friend,

Her Majesty Princess Celestia I

"What did she say?" asked Spike.

Twilight read through Celestia's letter again, and that feeling of warmth and hope in her chest from earlier in the day returned. If anyone knew about combat, it would be the Princess, and perhaps she could shed light on some other matters that had gnawed at Twilight's mind of late.

She cribbed a hasty reply confirming Celestia's wish and sent it on its dragon fire-assisted way. Spike, of course, was upset that he could not be a part of the "princess meeting" as he called it. "Sorry, Spike, but it sounds like Princess Celestia has something really important to say to me. You'll have to wait in the foyer until we're done."

"Well, as long as there's some good gems to eat," grumbled Spike. Twilight giggled.

---

Six hours later…

Twilight Sparkle made her way through the Grand Ballroom and into the Royal Towers of Canterlot. This beautiful structure was home to the quarters of the Princesses Celestia and Luna as well as the tallest building in Canterlot proper. I missed this place, Twilight thought to herself. The only sounds were made by her hooves on the inlaid marble and the metallic clank of the double doors that the two snow-white guards opened for her.

Twilight knew the way to Celestia's private chambers by heart, which were in the East Tower above the royal meeting hall, although she had only been inside them twice; once as a small filly shortly after Celestia accepted her as a student, and once as a mare of sixteen when one of her spells backfired spectacularly and nearly burned off her own fur. Celestia had allowed her to recover in one of the royal bedrooms. A sobering experience, to be sure.

The doorway to her inner sanctum was flanked by two massive unicorn guards in golden armor, eyes facing forward and fearsome spears held in their hooves. They stood easily two heads taller than Twilight. "The Princess is expecting you," the nearer one said in a growling baritone. "You may enter."

Her heart was suddenly beating faster than a Sonic Rainboom. Anypony would probably be shaking in their hooves upon meeting their Princess, at least ponies who didn't know Celestia on a personal level. They only knew her power and majesty and knew nothing of the warmth beneath. Even in her most unguarded and casual moments, Celestia was a hammer wrapped in soft velvet: a pony no evildoer ever wanted to cross and a pony who would use all of her power to defend the kingdom she loved.

Twilight felt more anticipation than nervousness. She barely noticed the grandeur of her surroundings- the silk curtains, the lavish white-and-gold furniture, the fireplace many heads taller than Twilight with an inviting blaze crackling- because her eyes were for only one alicorn, the one who stood on her private balcony and watched as her sunlight twinkled at the horizon's edge.

She was a beautiful sight.

Wait, did I just call Celestia beautiful in my mind? Twilight mentally shook herself. That came out of nowhere. But she really is beautiful. The Princess stood motionless on her balcony, her magical mane gently flowing of its own accord as she magicked a manebrush through it, and her snow-white coat and golden crown was the very picture of regal grace. Twilight's hooves made almost no sound on the carpeted floor; despite this, Celestia noticed her presence and turned to face her student.

"Twilight, my dearest student. It is good to see you again."

"Your Majesty," stammered Twilight, momentarily stymied. The two embraced and Celestia gave the smaller unicorn the briefest of kisses upon her forehead.

"There is no need for formalities tonight. Forgive my appearance; you caught me as I was freshening up for the night." Four golden shoes sat by the fireplace and Celestia placed the crown on a table beside it. She shook her mane in relief.

"Much better. Come, sit with me. The air is crisp and quite refreshing."

Celestia's balcony was easily twice the size of Twilight's entire top floor in Ponyville. The white stones were set in the pattern of a rising sun and the sun's dagger-like rays, crafted of the finest marble, pointed eastward toward Fillydelphia and the seas beyond. Twinkling far in the distance was Neighagra Falls, almost invisible to unaided eyes, and the Crystal Mountains beyond were only a darker gray smudge on the gray horizon. The patio was unadorned save a golden telescope and a divan from which the goddess could watch her own sun set and see her sister's moon take its place. The sun's rays retreated over the skyline; from her tower on the opposite side of the castle, Princess Luna was now weaving her nighttime magic. Celestia ushered Twilight to the couch and joined her.

"It's good to see you again too, Princess. I'm sorry for not sending you a letter but it was more of a last-minute thing, and-" A porcelain tray floated in front of her, held aloft by the golden glow of Celestia's magic, and Twilight gratefully accepted the beverage offered.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had learned all there was to know about friendship," said Celestia dryly. "It has been two weeks since your last letter."

Twilight gulped, remembering the last time she had failed to deliver a letter to her Princess, but Celestia's wink and light laugh revealed the jest. To cover her embarrassment, she took a sip of the maroon liquid in her hooves. She had never tasted anything of its kind before. What she thought was a simple cup of fruit juice exploded against her tongue, burning and tingling as it slid down her throat. The poor unicorn coughed and spluttered and blushed fiercely.

There was a mischievous twinkle in the Princess's eyes. She stifled her giggles and said, "This is a rich Marelot wine from the orchards of Fillydelphia. I often have a glass or two after my day is done. And that is quite all right, Twilight. You are welcome in Canterlot any time."

It is a night of firsts, thought Celestia. Twilight Sparkle's first experience with alcohol. Perhaps tonight she may lose some tension and enjoy a night instead of burying her nose in a book.

The two ponies watched the last sunlight twinkle out and before long Luna's moon took its place. "Oh!" said Celestia. "My sister has raised a beautiful full moon tonight. And such stars… Did you know that Luna has been in high spirits since her efforts to fit in to our modern times were not rebuffed, partly thanks to you, Twilight? Her nights have gained beauty since then. I imagine if she ever found somepony to complete her shy and impulsive nature, we would see nights unlike anything since the elder days of Equestria, when my forefathers first harnessed the sun and moon."

The regal pony's eyes closed for a moment. "Luna is lesser in magical power than me, yet she is in many ways my superior. This is her true gift. She is an artist."

Twilight was in awe of both the gorgeous stars and of Celestia, who somehow gained a soft and sultry radiance from her sister's light. Her milk-white coat shone enticingly and Twilight could have remained there all night long basking in her silvery glow, but (rather suddenly, Twilight thought) the temperature dropped and the breeze picked up with an eerie moan. "Interesting," murmured Celestia.

"What is it?" wondered Twilight, shivering despite the warmth of the wine.

Celestia's horn pulsed, summoning two matching blankets from her room which draped over each of them. Twilight marveled at Celestia's magic which was adept enough to tuck in the ends of the blankets without a single wrinkle. "Oh… nothing. Just a thought." After a few minutes she asked, "So do you want to tell me why you visited today?"

"Right. I forgot all about it when I saw you, but there's been so much on my mind lately since Princess Cadance's wedding and some strange things that have happened afterward." Celestia shifted closer to Twilight on the couch. "I don't know how to say this without sounding like a filly but… when my friends and I were fighting the changelings, and when the changeling queen overpowered you, it just occurred to me that I didn't know much about fighting them or using my magic to help Canterlot. Come to think of it, we were incredibly fortunate that day. My brother and Cadance loved each other enough to overcome the entire army of changelings, but- what would have happened if that had failed?"

The Princess listened intently. Her magenta eyes betrayed nothing of the mind behind them. Twilight resumed, "After I came back to Ponyville I did some research. I wanted to know if there were any special spells I could learn that would help, but I didn't have any books on it. So I came to Canterlot to look in the Archives. I didn't seem to have any luck there either." The unicorn looked up at Celestia, trying to form into words the thoughts gnawing at her insides. "I probably sound like a filly right now but I- I feel like I'm not powerful enough to defend Ponyville if someone attacked us. I have this nagging feeling that something's going to happen and my friends could be in danger."

There was a loaded pause in which the only sounds were the whispering wind and a shout from a distant guard below. The words then began to tumble out of Twilight. "I've always had bad dreams now and then but lately, they've been worse. I have these nightmares where the Everfree Forest overtakes Ponyville and buries it in darkness. There's also one where I come back to town to find it ashes and the ponies I care about are gone forever."

She finished, "And I worry about my friends sometimes, Fluttershy has been acting a little strange lately and not returning my letters and I haven't seen Rarity in a week."

Celestia was an alicorn of immense power and fortitude. She was more experienced in matters of the mind than anypony, as well as the ability to read a pony's emotions and motivations like an open book. Twilight's intuition far outmatched that expected from a unicorn of her age and experience, but she was never one to be subtle or secretive. Something was obviously bothering her and a slight furrow of her brow was the only thing betraying Celestia's worry she now felt for her student; of all things, this was not what she expected Twilight to tell her.

She decided to approach the situation gently. She moved so that her body was touching Twilight's and extended her magnificent wing over her back.

I wonder what's gotten into the Princess tonight, thought Twilight. She's never- well, sat like this with me before. I like it. Celestia's mane smelled heavenly and simultaneously reminded Twilight of a summer breeze through a field of wildflowers, the clean air after a spring rainstorm and the glow of a fire on the coldest winter nights. She was not aware of her own body snuggling closer to Celestia's warmth. Their shoulders touched. The nightmares, and the other nagging thoughts at the back of her mind, were temporarily silenced.

And yet, with each hissing eddy of wind, that nightmare teased at the fabric of her mind, the same one that had bothered her more frequently in the past month. Dark trees and murmuring branches. Prying orbs with no light. Limbs but no bones.

Twilight shuddered.

Celestia drained her cup and enjoyed the flush of fruity warmth beneath her fur. She poured more wine into both glasses. "Dear Twilight, what I am about to tell you is not known to anyone besides me. There are no books about fighting in the Archives, or much about the ancient wars, because they are all locked away in my personal library. Long ago I removed them because they were a reminder of much darker times. Days in which I played no small part."

Celestia looked down at her student. "Do you want to know a secret, Twilight? My sister and I, along with Princess Cadance, are the last of the alicorns. At least the ones that I know of. I have heard rumors that there are others, in the frozen north of the world, but the time is not yet right for me to pursue the matter deeper. Certainly not when I have the mantle of the sun and the rule of Equestria on my shoulders."

"Do you mean there could be other princesses out there?" asked Twilight. She reached for her glass. Several sips ago, she had stopped noticing the burning sensation and instead felt a tingly heat spreading through her body. She enjoyed it.

"Possibly, but for the time being there are none. Luna has always struggled with this. Not only that there is no one left of immortal blood with whom to bond, but also that she may very well be shouldering the responsibility of the moon forever. And she is not the only one who thinks on such things." She left the thought hanging and contemplated the moon for several minutes. Twilight tentatively placed her hoof atop Celestia's.

"Did I ever tell you where alicorns come from?"

"You said they were from beyond the sea," piped up Twilight. She dredged her memory for the details of that conversation. "They ruled over other ponies because of their power."

"I wish it were that simple. The pony races we know today are descendants of the original unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies. Unicorns raised the sun and moon and pegasi harnessed the weather without our assistance. Then the alicorns came from another world, over five thousand years ago, and formed a bloody empire on the backs of the native ponies." She poured a fourth cup of Marelot. "Some said that they were not true ponies at all, but creatures that took pony form to conceal themselves from their enemies. I do not know what enemies they feared. If hundreds of alicorns chose our world to hide from something else, it must have been terrible indeed."

"Ones such as myself," she continued, "the pureblooded alicorns, were true immortals. It was only after they bred with unicorns that their bloodlines diminished. All the pureblooded, save for myself and my sister, are long dead from wars with dragons and griffons and Discord and each other. It was a dark time."

"Then what about Princess Cadance?"

Celestia breathed deeply. "She is one-eighth alicorn blood. Her lifetime will be nearly twice that of a normal pony, but yes, one day she will die. There are whispers of the bloodlines left even in noble unicorn families of Canterlot and from time to time alicorns appear. Regardless, we have the highest magical ability and the most danger of misusing it. My powers alone equal a hundred trained unicorns, and when I had three of the Elements of Harmony at my command…"

For a moment, her eyes closed as visions of the ancient battles returned to her. Over fifty thousand ponies fell to Discord's thralls and monsters, as we fought amongst ourselves and Everfree Castle and Starry Vale and a dozen other settlements burned and crumbled to dust. Then the griffons swooped down on a weakened empire and the northern dragons cleaned up what was left. And afterward… She nuzzled Twilight's mane to hide the moisture forming in her eyes. "I moved the books and hid the histories so that nopony would ever believe that fighting is the answer. Love will always remain stronger than fear. I learned these lessons in blood and sorrow, and if my rule has accomplished anything, it will be that these mistakes are never repeated."

Twilight shifted against Celestia and the alicorn seemed to snap out of a deep daze. "I am sorry, Twilight. I must be boring you to tears with the rambling thoughts and confessions of a weary princess."

"Not at all," said Twilight. "The least I can do is to be a good listener in return. Is- is there something bothering you, Princess? Something I can help you with?"

"Much," murmured Celestia distantly. "You are not the only one who fears the future. And might I say that more stands on my shoulders than yours, if the future should fare badly for us and for Equestria."

Twilight knew something more was on her mentor's mind, but she had faith that she would learn of it when the time was right. Never had Celestia deliberately hidden information from her. If something threatened her Princess, she would be there to meet that threat with all her strength. Even if I'm lacking in the combat department. "Can I ask you something?" Twilight said, nearly whispering. "Were the Elements of Harmony a part of the old alicorn empire too? I've always wondered where they came from."

"The elements…" She paused and stared up at Luna's moon. "I am one thousand, seven hundred and thirty-three years old, Twilight Sparkle, and I am no closer to understanding the Elements than I was as a young mare. One thing is certain: the Elements were not of alicorn make or brought from another world. They have always existed here, with the ponies of this land, and the harmony they create is why Equestria still stands today. Perhaps Starswirl the Bearded or his progenitors had a hand in their make."

A glistening tear fell from her cheek and landed on Twilight's foreleg. "I was not worthy to hold even three of the Elements," said Celestia finally. "True, my sister and I found them and used them to stop Discord's destruction, but no alicorn should have such power. They corrupted us both. You have learned the rest of our story from your books, dear one."

If she does not know the rest of the story, she does not need to hear it from me. Luna and I perverted the Elements. We were drunk from their power, believing ourselves invincible as we annihilated the griffons and burned the dragons with their own fire and deposed the other alicorns who would deny our rule. In the end, after Discord was turned to stone and all the alicorns were dead, even my own sister shunned me. She was right to surrender her Elements and I should have surrendered mine as well, instead of sending her to a cold hell and losing connection to the Elements anyway.

---

Two hours later, Celestia and her protégé remained on the balcony. They had discussed many affairs of Canterlot and Ponyville, and the night had only slightly dropped in temperature but they were quite comfortable under the blankets and sharing body heat. The odd wind had ceased, at any rate. Twilight's head was nestled against her Princess's shoulder. From a distance, the two looked like lovers.

"I must confess something to you, Twilight," said Celestia quietly. She sipped her last cup. "I missed moments like this."

"Me too, Princess. This night is so beautiful, and- well, this feels amazing. Being with you. I missed you."

Violet eyes met lavender and Celestia gently kissed Twilight's forehead. Not just one kiss- two kisses. Twilight blushed furiously; Celestia's lips were so soft against her fur and her breath was light and sweet. She had a sudden urge to lock muzzles with the Princess. A violent blush raced up her cheeks and she felt light-headed. Her cup sank to the floor. Celestia stared directly into Twilight's eyes and for a moment she thought the Princess would kiss her, but instead she pulled away and stared at the Crystal Mountains in the distance. "Now, about these nightmares you've been having."

"Oh," said Twilight. "I'd rather not think about them right now. They're probably just because I've been practicing too hard lately."

"Nevertheless, you should have written sooner. And the news about your friends is troubling. I am sure it is nothing, but promise me that you will check up on them and keep me informed."

"Actually Rarity scheduled a spa appointment with me for tomorrow afternoon, which I found odd because we always do that on Fridays. It's Fluttershy I'm more worried about. The last I heard from her was that she was tending to some animals in the Forest and found something odd. She mentioned a 'shadow in the forest'… that was all I could get out of her."

The Princess was silent and looked up at her sister's stars. She was suddenly reminded of something Luna had told her; incidentally, it was on the same day Twilight had last spoken with Fluttershy. In passing off stewardship of the heavens to her older sister, Luna had said, "We noticed an interesting movement to the south, sister. Light and shadow moving in the forest, from what we could see from our high altitude, but when we investigated further there was nothing there." A coincidence? Her forehead creased in thought and at the same time, the wind whistled again.

A sliver of Celestia's royal tone crept into her voice despite her best efforts to remain calm. "I will consult my sister on this matter, Twilight." That was all she had to say on the subject. "If any other developments occur, do not hesitate to contact me."

"I just didn't want to bother you with my dumb nightmares at such a busy time, Princess," said Twilight meekly, hearing the minute change in her teacher's tone and snuggling her mane in apology. "Especially with the dignitaries from the griffon kingdom visiting soon and that dragon attack near Fillydelphia. I know you're busy."

"I am never busy enough to forget about you, Twilight Sparkle, or things that may concern both of us. I told you once, did I not, about the responsibilities of ruling the kingdom? I must always think of the lives and safety of all of Equestria. And yet, here in this golden tower it grows quite lonely. Princess Luna and I were always meant to rule together andthose long hundreds of years in her absence were the hardest of my life. Do you know what restored my hope?"

Twilight shook her head and Celestia continued, "It was you, Twilight. I had not trained a personal protégé in over four hundred years but I saw something special when I met you that day in magic school. Your childlike innocence and wonder brought light into my life again. You and your friends are the true holders of the Elements, not Luna and I." Because your innocent hearts know nothing of war and hatred. Because I would not take up the Elements again for anything, not even if the world hung in the balance. You are everything I never was. You returned both my sister and my heart, Twilight Sparkle. Celestia's eyes swam with unshed tears and she blinked them back.

"If you say so, Princess." As before, Celestia's gaze met her own and she realized just how close their noses were. Why was she suddenly feeling dizzy and unconnected? Perhaps Celestia's wine was to blame. Her cheeks burned fiercely. Before she knew it her muzzle was moving, almost of its own accord, toward the alicorn's.

For the first time in Twilight Sparkle's life, she did something without thinking through its repercussions. Frantic thoughts bounced in her brain like fireworks. I'm not a fillyfooler am I? Why am I so attracted to my Princess? Then their lips touched and everything was forgotten save the taste of Celestia's mouth, fragrant with wine, and the soft moan that came from somewhere deep inside the Princess's chest. It lasted forever yet was over too soon. "Twilight…" said Celestia huskily. And this time Celestia returned the kiss, leaning into her embrace and savoring the softness of her student's lips.

Lavender fur blended with alabaster and soft kissing noises came from their muzzles. Time ticked away but the two had eyes only for each other. Twilight let her hoof wander across Celestia's back, feeling her powerful musculature and delicate flight feathers, and Celestia traced patterns in her student's mane. She said softly, "My sister's moon is still young and my bed is cold. Shall we share it tonight?"

Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh… Between the adrenaline and hormones and aftereffects of the wine, Twilight felt as if she had swapped bodies with Rainbow Dash and gone for a ride in Equestria's warmest and fluffiest clouds. She could barely raise her head to nod, let alone form a coherent sentence. With a twinkle of magic, Celestia levitated the love-struck unicorn inside the tower. Twilight hovered between consciousness and sleep as the drink and her teacher's spell relaxed every muscle. She felt herself being lowered into a feather-soft bed.

"Remember when you used to be frightened of the dark, Twilight? When I would read stories to you in your chambers so that you would sleep soundly? And when you came running to my room after your nightmare, so scared that you climbed into my bed without invitation?" Celestia laughed softly at the memory. "You are in that same bed now, safe with me."

"I remember," murmured Twilight. Celestia held back a giggle as her student's head slowly drooped to the pillows and she began to breathe deeply. Perhaps my beverage was too strong for her? A certain question would have to wait until morning, and the Princess of the Day was in no hurry. After all, an alicorn has no need to count the days or the years.

The pressing questions would wait until the sunrise.

She laid her snow-white frame beside her student's and pulled the covers over herself. "Rest now, Twilight." Luna's moon twinkled through the stained glass window. Twilight Sparkle looked so peaceful and innocent, curled up in her expansive bed, that Celestia could not resist giving her student a kiss on the cheek. "Tomorrow is a big day."

CHAPTER TWO: AN APPOINTMENT

October 5

Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes. More precisely, she sent the signal through her brain to her eyelid muscles ordering them to open. This signal bounced around in her mind for at least five minutes, ricocheting off the hazy memories of last night's dream which involved a waterfall and- spiders. Lots of spiders.

In the dream, she was in a river somewhere beneath Canterlot, or perhaps Cloudsdale because rainbows glittered in the distance. It was so peaceful, with puffy clouds overhead and sunlight reflecting from the water's eddies; all of her friends had been frolicking in the shallows with the exception of Rarity, who lounged on the grassy bank above and wore a wide-brimmed hat over her violet curls. As Rainbow Dash flew lazy figure-eights in the air, Twilight splashed in the currents with Spike and Applejack.

Then the sky turned dark, or was it the water itself that became blacker and murkier? Spike gripped her foreleg like a vice and turned to her, green eyes staring lifelessly ahead, and said, "You're wrong, Twilight. You can't stop it. Nopony can stop it."

And then, falling from the azure spray of water behind her like a glittering rainstorm, were small spiders. She remembered the blackness of them, the shiny surfaces of their legs as they splashed around her by the hundreds. Fluttershy had been standing there on the riverbank calling to her, only Fluttershy sounded oddly like she had when the Everfree Forest's famous poison joke altered her voice to a deep growl. Fluttershy looked the same; she had the same butterscotch coat and cute pink mane, the same deep bashful eyes. She even talked in the same fashion (disregarding that hilarious voice, of course) and yet, something about her was off.

The dream-Fluttershy felt different than the real one.

And it was that feeling that Twilight remembered most vividly, even though she could not remember what Fluttershy had shouted as she swam frantically downstream from the spiders. Their tiny legs making circular motions against her fur, crawling, probing, sensing. All around her they swarmed. Swimming downstream from them didn't seem to produce any effect because the water was spiders.

Limbs, but no bones.

Spike remained stock-still in the water and made no effort to escape, even as the spiders burrowed through his scales and exited in grotesque bloody rivulets from holes where his eyes and mouth used to be. Applejack screamed and sank to the bottom of the river under the relentless weight of gnawing gore-drenched fangs. Their chewing and chittering sounded like the laughter of children. While she cast spells and fought for her life against the rising tide of legs and pincers, she realized that the spiders weren't exactly the thing she was afraid of. They were only a precursor, an exploratory tendril, their tiny eyes prying orbs without light but at the same time, orbs looking into a part of her that she usually kept private.

"AAAARGH!" she yelled as her eyelids finally parted stickily. Two seconds was enough to convince the unicorn that she was better off keeping them closed, because the bright sunlight blinded her and she scrunched her eyes shut against the pain. She stilled her legs which had been flailing like a madpony's.

"Oh buck," she cursed. And Twilight was not a pony known for cursing.

When the throbbing in her head was more manageable, she opened her eyes again and immediately noticed that she was not in her own bed. Instead of library books and rustic wooden walls, there were pillars with intricate floral carvings and gold accents. The windows reached to the ceiling, letting Celestia's sun flood the room with light, and around her bed were golden metal poles that supported white lace curtains.

Wait… this isn't my bed at all. This is- Celestia's bed?

What in the hay happened last night?

She sat bolt upright in bed and soon regretted that decision. Her head was pounding as if there was a stampede of Applejack's cattle trapped inside. Fighting off a wave of nausea, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the vanity mirror across the room. "My mane!" she shrieked. After staggering across the room to it she groaned, "My face…"

The pony staring back at her had a ruffled mane and bloodshot, baggy eyes. She would not have recognized it as herself without the violet bangs. She groaned and looked around for a manebrush, instead finding a letter on the table that bore a familiar hoofwriting and was stamped with a royal "C". When Twilight sat down to read it, she soon forgot all about the murky and sinister dream.

Dearest Twilight Sparkle,

My apologies for not being able to wish you good morning. You were fast asleep when I rose to attend to my royal duties and unfortunately, the dignitaries from the griffon kingdom arrived much earlier than I had anticipated. Today's royal business will no doubt drag on as it always does.

No doubt you are feeling slightly worse for wear this morning, which is partly my fault for allowing you to drink in such large amounts. Nevertheless (and I say this sincerely and from the bottom of my heart) last night was the most pleasurable night I have known in many decades and thank you for giving me the privilege of your company and affection. If you will permit me to say so, I have not known a kiss like that in over four hundred years. We must do it again soon, although there are many things I would discuss with you if you and I so choose to follow last night's path through to conclusion. I say this in the interest of honesty because love without honesty is not love at all. No more secrets between us, Twilight, of any kind.

I have instructed my guards to prepare my chariot for you in case you need transportation to Ponyville. I will not be free until this evening after royal court, but if you leave Canterlot be sure to send your reply via Spike.

With love and eternal friendship,

Celestia

The paper fell from a set of lavender hooves and landed on the table. A dumbstruck unicorn now let her head fall into her hooves as the realizations of last night came rushing back. I kissed Celestia. I remember that much… I wonder exactly what happened last night. And by Luna, what on earth was in that drink she gave me? Remind me never to touch 'Marelot' again…

Twilight picked up Celestia's golden-handled manebrush and did her best quick effort to wrangle it into a more presentable state. Rarity would no doubt be appalled, but Twilight had far more important things on her mind.

Rarity…

"Rarity! The appointment! And I left Spike downstairs in the palace all this time!" By the position of the sun in the sky, Twilight guessed it was late morning and somewhere in the palace foyer would be an extremely annoyed dragon. If she was quick enough with getting her flank in motion, she could still make her spa appointment with Rarity. She put the manebrush back where she had found it, trusting that the Princess wouldn't mind her- student? Lover?- borrowing it.

And yet she couldn't resist snatching up the brush again and bringing it to her muzzle. Celestia's flowery scent was like heaven in her nostrils; Twilight's heart skipped a beat with the memories of last night. If another pony had walked through the door at that instant, they would have seen a very silly Twilight Sparkle, eyes closed and grinning like a filly on Hearth's Warming Eve. And it was this thought that snapped Twilight out of her daze. "Right," she told herself. "Perspective."

Once her appearance was halfway decent, she clutched Celestia's letter in her teeth and headed toward the grand stairwell. A gray earth pony in silver armor with blue plumes greeted her at the bottom. "Twilight Sparkle? Her Majesty's chariot awaits you in the courtyard."

"Well- yes, thank you. I need to find my assistant first. Have you seen him? A baby dragon, purple scales and green tail?"

"My apologies, madam. I have not seen a dragon of that description here in the palace-"

"TWILIGHT!"

Spike came running across the ballroom as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Before Twilight could get an "I'm sorry" out, he was ranting on and on at a tongue-twisting pace. "Twilight, where were you? I looked all over for you this morning and nopony could tell me where you were or even if they had seen you! I had to sleep in the reception hall because the guards were conducting training exercises or something, but I didn't want to sleep in case you came back and I missed you, so I didn't sleep a wink and I tried asking Celestia but the guards wouldn't allow me access to the royal courtroom without your clearance and then-"

Twilight finally stuffed a hoof into the dragon's mouth to stop his verbal torrent. "I'm okay, Spike. It was just a simple misunderstanding."

"I was so worried! And what if something had happened to you?" Spike exclaimed. "Or what if you had left without me?"

"Spike, I would never leave Canterlot without you. Besides, I was with the Princess so there's no other pony better at keeping me safe than her. And I'm really really sorry for leaving you down here without explaining better. Do you want to head home now? I'm sure everypony in Ponyville is missing us."

"And what were you doing all this time with the Princess?" asked Spike (a tad accusingly, Twilight thought). "Why did it take so long?"

Oh sweet Celestia, don't blush. Twilight Sparkle, you brainless unicorn, don't you dare blush. "The Princess had some things on her mind that she wanted to share with me. That's all." What her assistant didn't know would never hurt him. She silently fought the rising heat in her cheeks.

"Whatever... Just tell me the next time you're having a sleepover with the Princess. Can we go home now?"

At the words 'sleepover with the Princess' Twilight audibly gulped. There was no way- no way in all Equestria- that he knew. Those butterflies in her stomach returned in full force and she prayed that Spike did not stand too close to her and catch a whiff of unfamiliar perfume on her coat. Thankfully he just shook his head and turned away. Spike's mention of home made Twilight remember that she had not told anypony about her Canterlot trip; she braced herself for awkward questions when she arrived.

Celestia, true to her word, had readied her personal chariot outside the palace gates and it was harnessed to four taciturn pegasi. She wrote a mental note to herself to write Celestia a letter when she was safely home- no, Twilight, you're not going to think about that right now. You're going to think about your schedule. Spike nodded and the two headed into the courtyard where the gilded vehicle awaited them.

"Hang on back there," the lead Pegasus growled once they were aboard. The takeoff was more intense than Twilight remembered, or perhaps these pegasi were used to carrying Celestia around on a tight schedule, because at once they threw themselves into the harnesses like wild beasts. She could hear their steel shoes thundering on the stones and with an enormous lurch they were airborne. Wings attacked the air and Canterlot was hundreds of feet below them in less than a minute. Twilight had to wrap both hooves around the railing to avoid falling against the rear panel, and Spike had latched painfully onto Twilight's hind legs due to the railing being too short for his reach. The dragon's eyes were screwed tightly closed. "Ten minutes to Ponyville, madam."

Twilight released her grip once the chariot leveled out. It was built for Celestia's larger stature and the railing was at her eye level, but by looking back she could see that they were quite high indeed. The distant rainbow sheen of Cloudsdale was nearly level with them. She wanted to tell Spike about her findings on combat (namely, that there were none). Conversation was impossible in the howling turbulence.

As the chariot began to drop below the level of the clouds, she wondered if this was how it felt to be a Pegasus; to have bitingly cold wind in your ears and your hair and not be confined to the earth as unicorns and earth ponies were. Then again, she would never give up her magic for anything. Not even wings.

"Ponyville in two minutes," called the nearest Pegasus. Twilight could feel the air getting warmer as they descended. Ponyville and its suburbs stretched out in front like a multicolored patchwork quilt and beyond was the Everfree Forest. Its shapeless mass of green revealed nothing below the treetops. It had been a long time since she had seen Ponyville from the air before; actually, she remembered, it had been the visit to Cloudsdale for Rainbow Dash's flying competition. She had forgotten how beautiful it looked in the morning light.

The chariot lurched and began its final descent. Soon Twilight could see Ponyville's roofs fly by and she clutched the railing again in preparation. The Pegasi flared their wings. Suddenly the chariot met ground with a tooth-rattling bump and came to a stop in the street outside her library home. She was very happy to see it again.

With only a deep bow and toss of their manes, the Pegasi turned the chariot and took to the sky again, blowing Twilight's mane akimbo with their wings' turbulence. Only then did she notice the strange looks she and Spike were receiving from passing ponies. It was exceedingly rare for a royal chariot- Celestia's own, no less- to be seen in Ponyville and even more so for one to be seen without any royalty. She grinned nervously and headed for her front door.

"Twilight! Ah've been looking all over for ya!"

Her friend Applejack came trotting up the lane to her, her Stetson hat bobbing with her motion. "Where in all tarnation have ya been? Ya missed Pinkie Pie's- well, party. Ya know, her party to end all parties. Again."

"Well… Applejack… I was in Canterlot for the day. I had some, er, business to attend to, and sorry I made it back so late."

The orange earth pony adjusted her hat, believing Twilight's white lie in stride. "Aw shucks, Twilight, don't fret yourself. We worried about ya for a little while but figured what ya was doing was more important than a party. Don't- tell Pinkie Pie ah said that." Under her breath she muttered, "That confounded pony throws more gosh-darn parties than Ah thought possible. And it's gettin' worse."

"Of course, Applejack," said Twilight nervously. "Hey, have you seen Rarity lately? We still have our spa appointment for this afternoon."

"Well wouldn't she be at Carousel Boutique, as usual? Say Twi, are ya sure everything's hunky-dory? Ya seem a mite put off."

It took more mental energy than she had expected for Twilight to look into Applejack's deep green eyes and say, "Trust me, I'm okay. Just a little tired. A trip to the spa will do me well." I'm perfectly fine. Why wouldn't I be? I'm stressed out and having crazy nightmares and just discovering I'm a fillyfooler and still haven't learned anything about combat. I'm doing splendidly.

"All right sugarcube, Ah've got plenty to attend to on the farm but Ah'll catch up with ya later. Bye, Spike!" Twilight watched Applejack gallop away and felt a warm feeling inside; no matter what the circumstances, that pony would never give in to despair. Applejack would be good to have at her side if her worst nightmares about Ponyville came true.

"Ponyfeathers." Twilight shook her head to clear the confusing thoughts and opened her front door. She set her saddlebags down and collapsed onto a chair, thinking about what apology she would give Pinkie Pie when they next met. Spike was already busying himself in the kitchen and in no time brought out a sandwich with hay and daisy salad on a platter for her. "Thanks Spike, that's really sweet of you." It was indeed delicious and sat well in her belly.

Spike replied, "You know who your number one assistant is, right?"

"Yes, yes, now finish in the kitchen and then you can have some free time." The dragon grinned.

---

Later that day Twilight walked the short distance to Carousel Boutique to find Rarity. The fashionista was predictably at her sewing machine, and jumped up when Twilight rang the doorbell. "Twilight, darling! It's so wonderful to see you! We all wondered where you'd gotten off to yesterday."

"I'm sorry, Rarity-"

"Sit down, sit down and have some tea, dear. We'll leave as soon as I finish this row." Rarity's horn glowed, slowly pushing a dress through the machine and attaching a shimmering pattern of stars to it. "This dress is for a very important client in Manehattan, she requested a suitable outfit for her daughter's cuteceanera and I was quite happy to oblige. The amethysts still need to be applied, of course, as do the feathers… it's progressing quite nicely!" She gave a satisfied giggle. "Of course there are four other dresses for her friends to be done. A seamstress's work is never done, of course! But Twilight Sparkle, what on earth happened to your mane? So un-fabulous."

"I just arrived from Canterlot," said Twilight. "Celestia's chariot brought me back and those pegasi know how to get somewhere fast."

Rarity's eyes widened and she gasped, "Celestia's own chariot? As in the chariot she personally uses? Why, whatever for, Twilight? Couldn't you teleport yourself home?"

"She let me borrow it," answered Twilight. Rarity gave her a searching look over the rim of her spectacles but said nothing. "I didn't want to miss our appointment for today, and I really need some relaxation time."

"Tell you what. Those spa ponies can do an absolutely divine full-body massage. It's not something I have done all that often. Today it'll be my treat. I promise you'll adore it," she trilled.

The two set out across town for the spa, passing none of their friends on the way. Rarity waved to a decidedly dazed Derpy Hooves who ricocheted off the wall of Sugarcube Corner in mid-flight. "Celestia knows she'll bring down the town one of these days," remarked the unicorn. "The poor dear's overworked. That old mailpony Silver Treasure retired recently- eighty-two years old, bless her- and Derpy's handling all the deliveries on her own." Twilight stayed silent for the most part during the walk and enjoyed the breeze, which was fresh and invigorating but a hair cooler than Canterlot's weather had been.

At the spa, they were greeted by a pale blue unicorn with a wild silver-streaked cerulean mane and hourglass cutie mark. "Welcome," she said in a low and smooth voice. "My name is Minuette and it is a pleasure to serve you today. Ah, and welcome back, Miss Rarity."

"Why thank you!" gushed Rarity. "I believe I had an appointment for two-thirty? And this is Twilight Sparkle. She will be joining me today."

Minuette nodded. "Right this way." She led them through the lobby and into a room in the rear of the building where there were several low beds. Twilight inhaled; her practiced herbalist's nose picked up the scents of jasmine, eucalyptus and lavender. It was a beautiful room that felt at peace and the sounds of dripping water were already beginning to set her at ease even before she lay face down on the bed opposite Rarity.

"This is my assistant, Strawberry Sapphires," said Minuette, gesturing to a magenta Pegasus whose cutie mark was a heart of alternating fruits and gems. "Aloe and Lotus are still absent at the moment and we are filling in until they return. Make yourselves comfortable, now what do you wish us to start with today? A hot oil massage, a facial or perhaps a hooficure?"

Minuette glanced at Rarity as she said this; Twilight snickered softly. No doubt Rarity requested them often.

"We would like a full-body massage today," Rarity replied. "Perhaps a facial afterward."

With an "As you wish" Minuette and Strawberry helped them stretch out on the beds and began their work. Minuette's hooves began with the tense muscles just above Twilight's withers and moved them in gentle kneading motions. The soft friction of her hooves was magic to Twilight's knotted physique.

"So Twilight darling, why the sudden need to visit Canterlot?" asked Rarity. "It was quite the scandal with Pinkie Pie when you weren't at the party, I assure you. Flugelhorn, accordion, the whole nine yards."

Twilight didn't want to go into too much detail around the two spa ponies; for all she knew they could be Canterlot spies, but she couldn't snub Rarity, especially after the white unicorn was treating her to this unbelievably massage for free. So she tentatively said, "Just- a hunch I've been having lately."

"Do go on, dear."

"I haven't been sleeping well." She remembered the most recent nightmare and shuddered. "I went looking in the Canterlot library for any answers, and when I couldn't find any, I met up with the Princess and we talked for a while."

"A personal audience with the Princess?" Rarity exclaimed, her face alight. "I'm so jealous!"

Twilight thought there was a slight pause in Minuette's movements at the mention of the Princess. "I wanted to speak with her actually. Seems like I never get the chance to have teacher and student moments, you know like I used to before all of the 'saving Equestria' stuff. It was quite a nice evening." Another blush raced up Twilight's cheeks from the memory and she suddenly wanted to deflect the conversation away from Celestia.

Bit by bit, those magic hooves worked out tension in the unicorn's lower back and loins. By the time Minuette had reached her cutie marks and caressed them in slow circular motions, Twilight was in heaven and kept her mouth shut in case she accidentally blurted out a secret. When the spa ponies finished and applied the facial mud, another customer walked in and the Pegasus went to greet the newcomer. Twilight seized the opportunity. "So how have you been lately, Rarity? With all those dresses to make, you probably needed this more than me."

Rarity looked quickly from side to side to confirm they were alone. "Truthfully, Twilight, the past week has been awkward. I simply don't know what to do anymore."

"What's wrong?"

"Well- where to begin. I have been kept so busy lately with orders and suppliers and such that I've barely had time to myself, let alone to my friends. My silk suppler in Baltimare suddenly decides to raise prices because of 'high demand'. What's a pony to do except pass the costs on to her customers, who complain that their dress isn't fancy enough. I'd like to see THEM make a matching wedding ensemble with pale chiffon embroidery and silver accents-" Her voice sank into a huffy tirade of fashion terminology and insults.

Rarity took an exaggerated deep breath, fluttered her eyelashes and continued. "And I'm overworked and lonely. I wish love were not so complicated sometimes."

Am I the best one for love advice? Probably not. "What's bothering you, Rarity? Maybe I can help."

"I'm not sure how to say this, Twilight. What does one do when a friend, a mare you know well, offers to make the friendship romantic and you aren't attracted to mares?" Rarity looked quickly around herself again and whispered, "Four days ago Applejack… confessed that she had feelings for me. I was positively speechless…"

Twilight squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, not liking where this conversation was going. "Applejack is a wonderful friend, but she's just that. A friend. Ugh, I don't understand this trend of mares attracted to mares. So unnatural. I don't know what to tell her," sighed Rarity. "Was it always this way, Twilight? Mares loving mares. Next you'll tell me that stallions are dating other stallions."

"Ummm…" Twilight internally kicked herself. She had been on the brink of confessing her feelings about the Princess to Rarity, and now Rarity was expressing a dislike of fillyfoolers. "I could speak with Applejack about it. I bet she's just lonely on that farm of hers." She suddenly remembered something Celestia had mentioned at the wedding. "The Princess said this might happen after a big wedding. Ponies start thinking about love and a special somepony, and friendship can turn into something greater. You can't blame someone for following their heart."

"Well, yes- I still imagine that special stallion of my dreams though. Strong, handsome, fashionable, coming to Ponyville like a prince to sweep me away." Rarity sighed. "So handsome." Hearts appeared in her eyes.

Twilight respected Rarity's opinion but thought of Celestia, her satiny coat and the smell of wildflowers in her mane, those dreamy eyes of hers looking into Twilight's very soul, her soft lips brushing against Twilight's neck. I love you, Celestia, Twilight thought. I'm not afraid to say it. Rarity and any other neighsayers in Ponyville can go buck themselves.

---

The spa session with Rarity had left Twilight physically relaxed but mentally uneasy. On the walk home she had thought of nothing else save the previous conversation. Since she had become best friends with the five Ponyville ponies she loved so much, she always thought that Rainbow Dash would be the one most likely to swing towards other mares. Perhaps it was her physicality and death-defying nature.

She then thought about Applejack, the hard-working farm pony that she was, and it didn't surprise her whatsoever to hear such news. I'm a fillyfooler, Twilight thought. But Celestia isn't a filly and neither am I. If Applejack feels that way too, I'm sure there's a mare out there for her somewhere.

She had parted ways with Rarity only a few minutes earlier and was now on her way home. Dusk had come rather prematurely to Ponyville and the trees and lamp posts cast long shadows along the cobblestones. The air was quite still and slightly clammy, as if the earth were exhaling the moisture from a chilly rainstorm. It was quite different from the sunny morning in Canterlot. Perhaps the Ponyville weather team was readying a downpour, but it seemed more sudden than the usual pre-storm weather. Days like this made Twilight want to be snug near her fireplace drinking hot chocolate, with a blanket around her flanks and a good book in her hooves.

Her hooves were loud on the stones. Very few ponies were out on the streets; maybe they were similarly inside or finishing their business for the day. So it was that she met nopony on her way home and in the silence, her brain began to needle her.

Is it wrong for a mare to love another mare or a stallion to love another stallion? I love Princess Celestia and yet I'm already afraid of being ostracized. If Rarity feels that way, who knows how others will? Everything I've learned about friendship these past two years tells me that friendship is worth fighting for and your friends are those who care about you and know you best, no matter who they are. Wouldn't the same things hold true about love? Love is love and nopony has the right to judge another pony based on their preferences in love. I love all of my friends no matter what.

An owl hooted somewhere nearby and the trees to her right rustled. An odd sensation went through Twilight's stomach that crawled its way across her skin and terminated at the base of her spine. She couldn't put her finger on its source. The chill now slithering down her back felt unnatural and eerie, as if someone had stroked her coat with a wet feather. She looked over her shoulder and was certain that something had slunk out of sight behind one of the houses. Perhaps it had been a trick of her vision, yet she stared at the shadows just in case. Is that a tree root, or…

As she turned her head, she swore that the house's shadow flickered. Her tail twitched nervously. Was somepony watching her? She stopped and spun quickly in a circle.

Not even a mouse shared the streets with her. The long shadows of the lampposts looked like accusatory fingers and the trees cast silhouettes resembling hooked talons. Why was she feeling uneasy in the middle of a Ponyville street? This was no different than dozens of other times she had walked home at sundown, from Pinkie's parties more often than not, and on her own as well.

Nevertheless Twilight began to trot faster for home. She couldn't shake the feeling that an unfamiliar pair of eyes was somewhere in the distance, watching her movements. Her trot became a slow gallop; only a quarter-mile and she would be safe and warm. The trees of the Everfree Forest in the distance swayed ominously.

The sun dropped below the northern mountains just as Twilight reached her door and wrenched it open. Nothing felt more welcoming than a fire merrily crackling, the candles in the windows flickering and Spike approaching her with a "Hey, Twilight!" and a cup of steaming tea in his claws. "How'd it go with Rarity?" he asked.

Twilight exhaled and realized she'd been holding her breath for almost a minute. She went to each ground-level window and drew the curtains before facing her assistant, noticing that her hooves still shook in fear. "Spike! I- it went great. Thank you so much for making the tea and the fire."

"Naw, it was nothing. At least nothing that your number-one assistant couldn't handle." Spike puffed out his scaly chest.

As the irrational dread began to ebb away, Twilight managed a giggle. "You're not trying to wheedle something out of me, are you? Wouldn't be the first time." She winked at him. When Spike spluttered and tried to say he was only being helpful, she pulled the little dragon into a hug. "Just kidding. I wouldn't be able to live without you around, Spike."

He handed her the tea. "Spike, could you bring me a scroll and my quill?" She had a letter to the Princess to write, one she had neglected since the morning. Before she settled down at her table beside the fire, she drew the bolt on her front door and a moment later could not explain why. Never before had she felt a reason to lock her door at night. With the door safely bolted, she felt at ease enough to control her quill with magic and write a reply to Celestia.

Dear Princess Celestia,

Thank you so much for letting me borrow your chariot for the trip home to Ponyville. With the mental state I was in, I probably couldn't manage the teleportation spell anyway. What I meant to say to you is this: I also think that last night was the best thing ever to happen to me. Nothing I had ever studied about friendship or love prepared me for that kiss and I'm not doubtful at all when I say that I'm in love with you. I can't wait to spend another night together. I know that you're a Princess and I'm just a regular old unicorn, but if we try hard enough, we can make it work. I learned something about friendship, too: it can turn into love before you know it. It did for me.

xoxo

Twilight Sparkle

Twilight had Spike send the letter on its way. She sipped her tea, the peppermint and chamomile calming her nerves. Just another night in Ponyville, right? Nothing to worry about.

CHAPTER THREE: A PLACE TO HIDE

October 6

Dawn came soft and early to Ponyville the next morning. Celestia's sun peeked over the eastern mountains and chased away the last chills of dawn. Soon its rays brought warmth to the dewy, foggy ground. A porcupine slowly creeped out of its underground burrow, drawn to the sudden change in temperature; it basked in the comforting warmth but stayed clear of the shadows which at the moment were still cold. It was far from pleasant outside, yet the day was promising. Ponyville often displayed weather like this as fall began to gracefully age and hand the reins to winter. The days were warm and the nights were chilly, although the cooler weather arrived markedly earlier this year than usual.

Most ponies in town would say that the frosts never arrived earlier than the Running of the Leaves ceremony. After most of the dead leaves had been whisked from the deciduous trees by the earth ponies, the hard frost would finish off what foliage still clung to the branches and signal the last moments of fall. This year was an oddity because on the previous night, a full week before the Ponyville residents had scheduled this year's race, a biting frost had taken hold. Many of the leaves had already fallen. At this rate, a race to knock the leaves down would be unnecessary. The hardier specimens of the Everfree Forest and the evergreens higher on the hills still clung to summer's greenery, but not for long. Days like this served as a reminder for ponies to begin stocking up supplies for winter which, judging by the skittish wildlife, was quickly extending its talons toward Ponyville.

The weather patterns did not go unnoticed by those outside Ponyville, either. Pegasi in Cloudsdale were surprised to find a thin film of ice on the edges of their lofty pillars and the surfaces of the clouds. Even Princess Luna herself shivered as she retired to her tower for the day.

Fall had not yet surrendered the land, and the sunlight quickly chased away the chill. Sparrows heralded the new day's arrival as they perched above a treehouse in the center of Ponyville. Its windows were opened to let the clear morning air inside, and within was a dragon hard at work.

Spike held a spatula and fork in his claws. He whistled cheerfully while he cooked breakfast for himself and Twilight Sparkle. This was a ritual he performed daily, rain or shine, and he was happy to do it for his best friend. He took naturally to it in his early Canterlot years and had cooked for Twilight for as long as he could remember. Preparing food was Spike's best talent. He often insisted that if he had been born a pony, his cutie mark would be a crossed pair of serving forks.

He had told this story to the Cutie Mark Crusaders once, to back up Twilight's insistence that the fillies needed to follow the things they were good at and not every mane-brained idea that passed through their heads. Naturally they didn't listen. He smiled at the memory.

Twilight was normally a light eater and preferred simple meals, if it could be said that she 'preferred' anything related to food. Spike knew that Twilight hated interruptions during her tangential and sleepless research phases- even for meals. These phases were unmistakable and usually characterized by muttering, searching through books, and taking measurements with telescopes or chemical equipment. Twilight's current record was three days and thirteen hours without food or sleep. It had been Applejack, Spike recalled, who called her 'a mite thin' at Cadance's wedding reception. Stress and fatigue from saving Equestria (again) notwithstanding, Spike knew that if not for his efforts Twilight would probably stick to prepackaged dinners and sweets bought from Sugarcube Corner, and would look much worse than she currently did. So he took it upon himself to always cook delicious and nutritious food for her. Somepony (or in this case, dragon) had to.

On normal days Spike might prepare some steaming oatmeal, made with hay and rose petals the way Twilight liked it, along with eggs and a fresh juicy apple from Sweet Apple Acres. He would then make a pot of tea and call Twilight down to breakfast. If she was exhausted after a long night or not feeling well, he would carry it all up to her and serve her a breakfast in bed. Spike had different plans for this morning.

Spike had been cleaning up dinner last night when Twilight burst through the door, obviously upset about something. It was adorable how she bravely tried to hide her shaking hooves. He wanted to ask what was bothering her, but he served her dinner and tea and readied her bed without comment. It ate at his insides when she was unhappy; even if it was not his fault, he felt responsible for keeping her content and well-fed and he took it personally if she wasn't.

He kept one eye on the eggs sizzling in the pan, flipping them occasionally so they didn't burn. With the other hand he slid a tray of handmade cinnamon rolls into the oven. He had spent the last half hour on them, shaping each one into a perfect horseshoe shape and dusting them with sugar. Spike turned back to the eggs and placed a sprig of clover in the center of each egg.

When he pulled the rolls out, the kitchen danced with the smells of cinnamon and oranges and fresh morning breeze. He transferred the rolls to a basket and set the table for two; once the freshly squeezed orange juice was made, everything was set. All he needed now was a bouquet of flowers to grace the table and a certain sleepy unicorn to wake up. Spike picked a few daisies from the front garden and came back inside to find the unicorn in question sitting at the table.

"Good morning, Twilight," said Spike. She replied with a sleepy groan; her mane was full of static electricity and stood at odd angles. Spike noticed her bloodshot eyes, the result of another restless night. "How'd you sleep?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"Umm… I slept all right, I guess. I'm just tired." All right would be pushing it, Twilight thought dully. Last night she had not been able to get to sleep for hours, and what sleep she did catch was fitful and unsettling. In her dreams, strange sexual fantasies involving Princess Celestia were interwoven into a strange creeping darkness. It was always behind her, dogging her hooves but always out of sight and never touching her. The branches murmured in a language she could not understand. She awoke, wishing the stupid tree behind her would just be quiet, and felt more exhausted than when she had gone to bed.

Just then she noticed the elaborate breakfast spread that Spike had prepared: the daisies, the fancy tablecloth and silverware usually saved for company, the cinnamon rolls filling the kitchen with a lovely aroma. She gasped, "Spike, you shouldn't have."

He poured her a glass of juice. "Don't worry, it was nothing. I wanted to." The dragon's eyes were on the verge of watering when he said his next sentence. "I know you've been stressed out lately, and really tired, so I wanted to help."

Twilight reached across the table and touched Spike's shoulder, and to her surprise her eyes were also welling up with suppressed emotion. "That's really sweet of you, Spike. And I know I've been out of it lately, I don't know what's gotten into me. I'm really sorry. I need some time to just relax and get some fresh air and think."

"And don't forget about a great breakfast before you do all that relaxing and fresh air-ing and thinking," said Spike. He served the rolls and Twilight took a bite.

"These are amazing! I might be tired on purpose just so you make these more often," Twilight laughed. Spike, across the table, ate his eggs while his mind was on Twilight and how the simple act of making her a nice breakfast had made her laugh. She looked like an entirely new pony when she smiled.

That's enough for me, Spike thought. All I want is for my best friend to be happy. Everything else will take care of itself. His little dragon heart was nearly bursting with pride.

And at that moment, somepony knocked on the front door. He answered it.

"Hiya, Spike," said Applejack, tipping her Stetson to him. "Mighty fine mornin' we have today. Is Twilight in?"

"A little worse for wear," muttered Spike in an undertone, "but she's in the kitchen. Come on in." He ushered the farm pony through the doorway and Applejack quickly wiped her hooves on the mat.

"Mornin', Twi'," she called. "What's- … up…" Applejack dropped her voice at the sight of Twilight with morning eyes and messy mane, but took an appreciative whiff of the breakfast offerings.

Applejack took a seat at the table and declined the rolls Spike offered her. "Ah'm mighty sorry for interruptin' your breakfast, Twilight, and thanks for offerin'. We've already eaten breakfast a couple o' hours ago. Shucks, where was Ah? Silly me… Ah only stopped by to remind ya about the campin' trip today."

"Camping trip?" said Twilight dreamily. Her mind had been elsewhere, and she did a sudden double take. "Ponyfeathers! I forgot all about the camping trip! Even after I wrote it on all three of my schedules!" Twilight sprang from the table, nearly spilling her juice, and raced for a nearby bookshelf from which she pulled a green volume. Applejack caught the title: Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Camping but Were Afraid to Ask.

"Now hold yer horses, Twi'. No need to fret yourself. Ah've got all the preparin' done, for the most part, and it's not until three o'clock today. Pinkie Pie's gonna meet us by the bridge an' Applebloom and Scootaloo are comin' too."

Twilight froze in mid-pounce, the book clutched in her mouth. "And wasn't Rarity coming too? And Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash?"

Applejack kicked at the floor. "Ah don't know about that darn Rarity. She's probably fussin' about silk and jewels again. Dash's away in Cloudsdale for weather business an' Ah couldn't find Fluttershy this mornin'. Maybe she'll meet us later."

Both Spike and Twilight caught the change in Applejack's voice when Rarity was mentioned. Twilight frowned and remembered yesterday's spa session, and the awkward silences that had followed. She would ask Applejack about it later. "Make yourself at home, Applejack," Twilight called from the top of the stairs. "I have to pack!"

In her bedroom, Twilight was a purple tornado. She flew around the room with little regard to gravity. While she held a clipboard aloft with her magic, she shot bursts of energy at random objects so that they would fly into the saddlebags at the foot of the bed. "Sunglasses? Check. Portable telescope? Check. Matching coat and scarf? Check. Blankets? Check. Emergency scrolls and quills? Check. Emergency-emergency scrolls and quills? Check. Camping guide? Check." She knew Applejack was bringing two tents, but there was no such thing as being over-prepared or oversupplied. So she magicked a two-pony tent from her closet. It was old and stiff, having not been used in many years, and she stuffed it into her bag atop the clothes. After a final double and triple-check of her checklist, and a few extra books crammed alongside the tent, her preparations were complete.

Twilight came back downstairs to find Applejack gone. "Applejack said she needed to get back to the farm," said Spike. "She said to meet her at Sugarcube Corner around two."

"Well… I guess I'll be outside in the garden until then. Thanks for breakfast, Spike."

---

Twilight met up with the group in front of Pinkie Pie's workplace. She still couldn't believe how she had forgotten the camping trip, a yearly tradition with her friends. It always happened in late fall after the Running of the Leaves and Applejack's harvest duties were completed, before winter's chill grasped Equestria and made the weather unbearable for camping. Today was perfect for it; the sun shone brightly and birds sang above her. The morning's unseasonal chill was only a memory.

She was about to greet the others when something heavy and pink and smelling of cotton candy bowled her over, at a speed that defied all the laws of physics. "Hey, Twilight!" sang Pinkie Pie, her unnerving blue eyes staring into Twilight's. "I missed you! You look terrible! Want a cupcake?"

"Now let the poor mare breathe a spell," laughed Applejack. "Are y'all ready to go?"

"All packed up and ready," Twilight gasped. She still hadn't recovered her breath from the Pinkie Pie missile. Her friends were also packed up and ready for the journey. Applebloom stood bright-eyed and attentive, scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. The red-maned filly couldn't be happier to go on an adventure with her big sister. But Twilight noticed Scootaloo's detached expression and guessed she was missing her hero Rainbow Dash, whose weather business must have been serious if it kept her from an appointment she had known about for months. Rarity and Sweetie Belle were no doubt busy filling orders- or avoiding Applejack.

It was Fluttershy's conspicuous absence that made Twilight slightly uneasy. Fluttershy wouldn't dream of missing a camping trip. Especially when wild animals and birds are involved. I hope she's all right. I haven't seen her since before I went to Canterlot. "Is Fluttershy coming too?"

"Ah knocked on her door twice today. Either she's in the forest worryin' about her animals or just really busy. Anyway, Big Macintosh told me about a place up yonder in the Unicorn Range where he went campin' as a colt. Straight north a spell, Ah bet no more n' seven or eight miles. Should be pretty up there this time of year."

"Ooh, a different place than last year! I love different places!" Pinkie Pie giggled, her saddlebags threatening to spill their contents due to her frantic bouncing.

"Then let's get a move on," said Applejack. "Ah'd rather be at the campsite before dark." The five travelers took a deep breath and set out on their adventure. Twilight brought up the rear, behind the excited fillies, all the while worried about her gentle Pegasus friend.

The Unicorn Range lay directly north of Ponyville, beginning at the base of the towering mountain where Canterlot lay and snaking northwest to Shadow Mountain and the western seas beyond. Beyond it was Cloudsdale and endless rolling grasslands. Seen from Ponyville, it loomed over the neighboring forests like the spine of a buried dragon. It had not seen any snowfall yet; soon it would be swathed in whiteness with the onset of winter. One or two adventurous ponies in Ponyville had climbed several of the nearer peaks in the range and loved to brag about their accomplishments. The place Applejack had in mind was about halfway up the nearest crag, or so Big Macintosh had told her. She had never actually seen the place herself.

Their road began outside of Applejack's ranch and crossed over the gently rolling hills covered in apple trees. "Ah think we got the harvestin' done right on time," Applejack remarked. "Granny Smith's got a feelin' that this good weather ain't gonna last much longer. She's got an uncanny sense about such things. Mighty strange sometimes."

"Granny Smith's crazy," put in Applebloom, and Scootaloo giggled. "I love her dearly, but that don't make her any less crazy."

"Applebloom! You oughta know better than talkin' about your granny that way."

"Well it's true," Applebloom pouted. "If she's not, then what was that about last night? All that- mutterin' about weird weather and darkness and monsters and all. And drawin' all those pictures."

Twilight's ears twitched at the word 'darkness'.

"Granny Smith's instincts saved our harvest last year, and don't ya forget it, little sis." She tossed her mane, indicating that the matter was no longer up for discussion. Applebloom let out a "hmph". Twilight was on the verge of asking about Granny Smith but thought better of it.

Ponyville was soon left behind and the forest stood directly in their path, a foreboding wall of hunter-green foliage. "Ooh, forest-y," said Pinkie Pie. Twilight stopped to take a drink from her canteen. So it was that she noticed the clouds, which only in the last hour had obscured half the sky. Unfortunately that half included the mountain range now overshadowing the forest they trekked through. The air seemed still and deadened around them, as if their motions along the narrow trail was upsetting to the trees themselves.

The path grew steeper after an hour or two once they had climbed through the lower strata of the forest. As they reached the roots of the Unicorn Range, there was a marked change in the vegetation and terrain. The overhanging trees thinned out and soon the ponies could see the sky again- beautiful swirling gray clouds perforated by beams of yellow sunlight. Larger rocks and pebbles also appeared in the trail, making footing more difficult. "Y'all might want to pick up the pace," called Applejack at the front of the line. "We want ta get there before nightfall."

Twilight, in the rear, huffed and took another long drink. Water was not an issue because of the burbling stream only a few feet from the trail, which would eventually join the larger river to the south. She gulped down the canteen's contents and refilled it. "I'm out of shape," she said dejectedly. She hurried to rejoin the others.

She took her place behind a footsore Scootaloo. No doubt the filly was missing her scooter and its speed, which was useless on such rocky trails. Whether it was the increasingly unstable path or the general stillness of the forest around them, the group was an oddly silent bunch. Even Pinkie Pie was quiet, although she did let out excited gasps at every unique rock in the road, and 'funny-shaped' trees, and cloud formations. "That one looks like a cupcake!" said Pinkie. "An upside-down cupcake sitting on top of an alligator, maybe." She snorted and rolled on the ground laughing.

Twilight began to whistle to break the silence, but somehow the sounds died on the tip of her muzzle and were swallowed up by the gently whispering branches of the trees. She was soon out of breath to whistle, at any rate, due to the steep trail. Eddies of wind undulated around the rocks at her feet. I wonder why no birds are singing today? It's so quiet. And cold. Wait… cold? It was warm only an hour ago.

As if in answer to this thought, Scootaloo shivered and said, "It's chilly."

"We're not that far away, sugarcube," replied Applejack. "About another hour." The earth pony paused before continuing, "Y'all are right, it's gosh darn cold all of a sudden."

Dusk was on its way; the rays of light were being quickly obliterated by clouds and the air coming from farther up the mountain bit with cool teeth at their coats. They had also climbed a long way and from their position on the mountain face, they could see Ponyville and its suburbs spread out below them. Applejack's orchards were a patch of brown earth with tiny red dots.

Applejack said under her breath, "Big Mac told me it was only about eight miles. I hope it's soon because these fillies are shiverin' like a pig in a snowstorm. And this weather's gettin' worse."

The weather did indeed get worse the higher they climbed. With every foot of mountain the temperature steadily dropped and the wind rose in howling bursts. The trail took three abrupt switchbacks and to their left was a sheer drop of at least two hundred feet. Far above their heads a waterfall issued from a cleft in the rock and fell in thundering gallops to the rocks below, and would later branch into the stream Twilight had seen farther down the mountain face. Between the waterfall and the wind, Twilight could not even hear the sound of her heart pounding. She opened her mouth to call out to Applejack but felt sudden wetness on her lips.

As if somepony slashed the dark clouds above with an enormous knife, snowflakes began to fall thickly around them. "Ponyfeathers," cursed Applejack. "Let's get to shelter quick!" She would tell her brother about his bad advice, when she next saw him. Her priority was getting her little sister and the others to a sheltered place where they could set up camp and hunker down for the night. The wind blasted down from the mountain's crown and to Twilight it sounded like the roaring of a dragon. Applebloom, shivering and frightened, clung to her big sister with an iron grip.

At last Applejack found the place. Above a turn of the trail was a flat open area ringed by rocks and just beyond was a hollowed-out cave. Just the sight of it was enough to make her forget all anger at Big Macintosh; he had not misled her after all. "There!" Applejack bellowed. The storm screamed like a banshee and threw blinding flakes into her eyes. For a moment she could not even make headway against its strength. She walked three-legged, clutching her Stetson with one hoof. "I'll check if it's safe!"

She threw down her saddlebags and ran to the cave mouth. At once she saw that other ponies had once used this space for shelter; there was a blackened patch of rock that held the remains of a firepit and the cave itself was just large enough to squeeze a tent or two under its roof. Perfect.

"Everypony get in here, quick! This storm'll blow us all back to Ponyville!" The other four huddled inside the overhang, panting and trembling from the cold. Twilight, summoning her magic, dragged one of the boulders partially across the entrance and shut out the worst of the wind- but the storm could still touch them with tendrils of frigid air. It sounded like eerie moaning and sent horrible shivers down Twilight's back.

"Everypony all right?" said Applejack when she had recovered her breath. She did a quick head count and continued, "At least we're safe here until this blows over. Applebloom, can ya start on the tent?"

Pinkie Pie suddenly regained her voice. "Brrrrr! My mane turned white!" The snowflakes had clung to her frizzy mane and stiffened it with frost. She shook herself violently. "We should all get to bed before we turn into popsicles. Ooh, I love popsicles! Especially cherry ones because then you can dip them in chocolate and-"

"Pinkie," pleaded Applejack. "We're already cold enough without talkin' about popsicles. Y'all should help the fillies get these two tents set up and let's try an' stay warm tonight."

"But what about cherrychongas? Can I talk about those? Please? Please?" She bounced in place, forgetting all about the tent. Applejack face-hoofed.

Instead of a group of happy ponies sitting around a campfire and telling scary stories, there were four downcast ones (excepting Pinkie Pie, of course) that struggled with uncooperative tents and tried to avoid the vicious gusts filtering through the cave entrance. The fillies would have the smaller tent and the older ponies would have the larger one. Twilight unpacked her saddlebags and set the contents in ordered rows; her tent was not needed but she donned her coat and scarf and put her blankets in Applebloom and Scootaloo's tent. They would be needed tonight.

Applejack morosely kicked a rock. "Ah'm sorry, Twilight," she said at length. "This wasn't what Ah had in mind when I thought about a campin' trip."

Twilight used her magic to wrap a spare scarf around her friend's neck. "It's okay. Luckily for us, we're well prepared. It's only for one night." She offered her a half-smile.

"Thanks, Twi'. We should get ta bed soon though." She pulled several apples from her bag. "It's the best dinner we'll have unless y'all want to cook somethin'. Ah swear, Ah wish Ah knew what was up with this weather." Speaking to no one in particular she added, "Tarnation… it's more puzzlin' than Ah've ever seen before. Even Granny Smith knew somethin' was up but she's never seen things like this. It's almost like…" Applejack let the thought die.

"Like Discord has something to do with it," said Twilight, finishing the sentence for her and biting into one of the apples. "But it's impossible. There's no way he could be back."

A wailing gust of wind blasted into the cave. The fillies' tent vibrated like a drum being struck.

"Ah just don't know," Applejack mumbled.

"Come on. We should get inside and try and keep warm tonight. This might help." Twilight magicked the boulder closer to the entrance, leaving scarcely enough room for a filly to squeeze through.

Pinkie Pie, wrapped in two oversized pink sweaters and a neon green hat patterned with candy corn, volunteered to sleep with the two fillies to help keep them warm. "Nothing's going to get Pinkie down, not even Discord and Nightmare Moon and Queen Chrysalis all at once," Twilight remarked as Pinkie sprang into the small tent. "They'll be just fine tonight." She followed Applejack inside where the earth pony had already laid out two sleeping bags and blankets embroidered with red and green apples.

"Good night, Twi'," said Applejack. They tucked the blankets under their muzzles and tried to shrug off the chill air and flapping tent walls.

Rest was elusive for the lavender unicorn. Apart from a general mistrust of sleep after the recent nightmares she had suffered through, there were just too many conflicting thoughts in Twilight's mind that occupied her attention. She tossed and turned as the tent walls gently rustled. The swishing canvas made her shudder; it sounded too alike to the whispering trees of her nightmares.

She heard a soft sigh next to her. "Applejack, are you still awake too?"

"Yup." Several minutes passed before she continued, "Just thinkin'."

Twilight admitted, "I've done that a lot lately."

The Element of Honesty's face always gave away her feelings, and even in the dim light Twilight could see the worry there. "Ah just don't know what's been happenin' lately. It seems like things are changin' and Ah can't do nothing about it. Take this cold, for instance." She shivered. "It's like the weather doesn't know what to do. And Ah swear all of us are growin' farther apart each passing day. Like there's somethin' eatin' at us, taking all the happiness away."

"What do you mean? We're here, aren't we? In a freezing tent and hoping for morning, but we're here and our friendship is forever. Nothing's ever going to break that."

"Ah know, Twi', but- Ah can't put my finger on what's been troublin' me."

Twilight moved closer to her friend. "What's bothering you, Applejack? You can tell me. We're friends."

"Twilight… have ya ever had a secret that ya couldn't tell anypony, something that nopony would ever understand? Something that keeps ya from sleepin' at night because it feels like it'll burst out if ya don't tell it?"

A vision of Pinkie Pie emerging from a flowerpot, hissing "Forever…," popped up in her mind. Following that was an image of Princess Celestia. Princess, I hope you're safe and warm in Canterlot tonight, because I miss you. "Everypony has secrets, Applejack. I have more than some do."

"Ah… My tail swings the other way, if ya know what I mean, Twi'. And Ah feel like Ah'm the only one that I can trust about it. After that one sleepover at your house with Rarity, Ah started likin' her as more than a friend, but Ah never got the chance to tell her how Ah felt. And when Ah finally got the words out last week, Ah sounded like a lovesick filly trippin' over her hooves, and Rarity turned me down."

Applejack's raw honesty sometimes took Twilight aback, but it was a mark of the strength of their friendship that Twilight did not reveal Rarity's confessions on the subject. She put her hoof on Applejack's shoulder and let her continue. "And it seems like things have been goin' downhill from that day. First there's Rarity avoidin' me, and then Ah can't seem to find Fluttershy anywhere, and this freaky weather and Granny Smith. She's mutterin' about darkness and drawin' weird shapes on the walls and scarin' everypony, and Ah don't like goin' out after dark anymore." The words tumbled out of her. "Ya have to promise me, ya won't tell anypony about me. Ah'm not ready for anypony else to know just yet."

"Shouldn't you be free to love anypony you choose, though? Just because Rarity isn't the one for you doesn't mean there's not somepony else that will love you back." Twilight said these words automatically while another shudder racked her body. The words Ah don't like goin' out after dark anymore couldn't be a coincidence. Silent forests… slithering fog…

"Well that's the thing. Rarity is the one Ah choose… Ah've felt that way about her for so long and everytime Ah'm around her it gets worse. It makes me sick to know that Ah'll never be close to her, or hold her at night, or kiss her lips. And then there's Granny Smith and my brother pushin' me to settle down and find a stallion and continue the family, when Ah don't feel that way at all. I just can't take much more!" A tear leaked out of her wide green eyes.

"Maybe Rarity just needs some time. But if she's not willing to love you the same way, then there's no use in making yourself miserable over it." Twilight giggled. "And when did I ever become a corny expert on love?"

Applejack laughed through her tears. Twilight continued, "And you're not the only pony who prefers the company of other mares." She winked.

"Twi', do you mean- you're-"

"I think I've always been. Especially when I'd pass a big strong stallion in the street and feel nothing inside, even if he winked at me and tried to get me in a conversation. I didn't really realize it until recently."

"So do you have a special somepony?" Applejack asked, smiling once more. "There's gotta be somepony."

Try as she might, Twilight could not stop the flush of color on her cheeks. Her abdomen trembled as if someone had opened a cage of birds inside her. "There is somepony but- can you promise not to tell?"

Applejack nodded and sat up in bed like an excited foal, forgetting the cold, and creeping back under the covers a second later. "It's Princess Celestia," Twilight said lamely.

"The Princess?" Applejack gasped, mouth agape as if she had never heard anything of the kind. Twilight managed a nod. "Gosh! Ah guess your family's got a thing for fancy royal ponies. So that's why ya were in Canterlot?"

"Well- not exactly, but yeah." Suddenly Twilight started laughing and her giggles rang out in the stillness. She had no clue why it was so funny. Applejack soon joined in and the tent shook with peals of laughter. For a while the two ponies lay there watching their breath rise above them in evanescent swirls, listening to the howls of the tempest outside and imagining that it was only a spring rainstorm. "It'll be our little secret," whispered Twilight. "No matter what, we'll always keep it safe and we'll always be here for each other."

"Deal." An orange hoof smacked against a purple one.

"Should we try to get some sleep now?"

Applejack found that sleep came much easier with Twilight's comforting presence at her side and the warmth of their shared secret. Twilight, imagining how Canterlot's lights shone in the distance, only found her personal dreamland when she fantasized that Celestia held her safely in her hooves and kissed her goodnight.

In the other tent, Pinkie Pie cradled an exhausted Applebloom and snored gently. She had scarfed down a few 'emergency' cupcakes before blowing out the lantern and tucking blankets around the two fillies. It was remarkable, Scootaloo thought, how easily sleep arrived for the party pony. How can they just sleep through this? She trembled like a falling leaf, jerking upright at every tiny noise. In her overactive imagination, the shrieking wind gusts were the roaring of a rampaging behemoth that tossed aside tree trunks as if they were toothpicks and devoured nine ponies at a time. Its jaws dripped blood and fallen ponies dangled from its multitude of snaking limbs.

Scootaloo fell into a fitful sleep only by imagining that her hero Rainbow Dash was standing guard at the cave entrance, cockily defying all danger and unleashing a Sonic Rainboom in the face of thirty monsters to blast them all to oblivion.

---

Big Macintosh pulled a cartload of apples along Ponyville's main street. He chewed a sprig of wheat and nodded greetings to passerby, walking with a distinct spring in his step. A farm pony's work was never done, but today was a special day- the day that marked the end of apple season and the conclusion of two months of applebucking and setting aside crops for the oncoming winter. None too soon, for Big Mac mistrusted the incoming weather. It was pleasant enough in the sunlight, yet the shade was far too chilly to be comfortable, and the gray clouds above seemed here to stay.

Apple season, though, was far from over. The family's livelihood partly depended on the revenue from selling apples at their market stand, an activity usually done by his sister Applejack and sometimes by Applebloom when she was on yet another quest to find her cutie mark. So today he was filling in. Apple sales had been excellent today; the first cartload had sold out shortly before noon so he had brought a second one.

His sisters were still away on their camping trip to a place favored by his Pa and Ma back when he was a young colt. Before their untimely death in a carriage accident when he was eight years old, in early summer they would take him and baby Applejack to a special place in the Unicorn Range where, after spending the night in a snug mountainside cave, they would hike over the mountain pass and watch the sunrise shine through the rainbows of Cloudsdale in the distance. It was a stunning view. Any minute now, he reasoned, they should be heading for home.

"Fresh, juicy apples for sale!" Big Mac called to passerby. Not used to the attention, he murmured a shy "eeyup" or two when asked questions about the apples. Resignedly he settled down at the stall for the rest of the selling day- if it was up to him, he'd stay and do work around the farm while Applejack helped the customers. He wasn't much of a talker.

And then he saw them. Coming up the lane were five ponies, his sister in the lead, who looked as if they had been through five months of hell. He sized them up with a practiced eye: windswept manes, sore hooves, downcast faces. "Applejack! Are ya okay?"

"Thanks to that cave of yours, we're all right," replied Applejack. "But just barely. Ya need to take these fillies back to the farm and get 'em some blankets and hot soup. We almost got frozen to death up there."

"But- but sis, why don't ya take 'em and get some rest yourself? Ah'm fine here."

"Well all right, if you're sure… Twi', Pinkie, ya best be gettin' home. Ah'm mighty sorry our campin' trip turned out so horrible. We best do it earlier in the season next time."

"We made it through because of you, Applejack." Twilight hugged Applejack tightly, trying to put many unsaid and important things into the hug, and the earth pony blushed underneath her freckles.

Pinkie Pie bounded in circles around them like an excited dog, as if the stress and exhaustion of the previous twelve hours had no effect whatsoever. Her mane billowed in rhythm with her limitless sugar-fueled energy. "HUG TIME!" she screeched, and Twilight and Applejack were soon buried in pink fluffy mane.

Applejack led the fillies away. "Ah'll come by later, Twi'."

Which left a very hungry and very tired Twilight Sparkle to walk home on her own, Pinkie Pie no doubt on her way to tell Rainbow Dash all about the adventure. That is, if it could be called an adventure and not a day where everything went south. She wondered on the way home if camping should be renamed 'freezing'. Having been on camping trips with her friends twice in her life so far, neither of which had been very pleasant, she resolved that next year's outing would be to the beaches of Las Pegasus or, failing that, the gardens of Canterlot.

No one ever froze to death on beaches, right?

---

As the shadows began to lengthen, Twilight felt much more at ease when she arrived back home. Spike had already started a fire in the hearth and was hard at work removing books and dusting shelves. "Twilight!" he exclaimed when she plodded through the door. "How was the trip?"

"Where to begin," said Twilight wearily, shrugging out of her saddlebags. "You know, just any other day. Freezing cold, creepy wind, hiding in a cave all night." She waved her hooves to indicate the 'creepy' wind.

"I made some tea, and there's a fire going."

"Thanks, Spike." She ruffled the dragon's spines affectionately. "Now I should get busy on catching up. I'm way behind on my studies. Oh- and did the Princess send any messages while I was away?"

Spike shrugged. "Nope. Pretty sure I'd know if she did, 'cause you know, the whole burping fire thing and all."

In truth, her studies were right where they should be, but she was not in the most talkative mood. She curled up on the sofa, a volume of Pegasus history in her hooves, and tried without success to keep her mind on the book. Not having to focus energy on staying warm meant that her overactive thoughts could wander. They now wandered to her Princess and what could possibly delay her letter. Never had Celestia withheld or forgotten about sending a reply to Twilight's letters. Something vitally important must have interfered. Her uncertainties about Fluttershy also returned; was her friend just avoiding them or was something wrong?

CRASH. A heavy object slammed into her door one, two, three times. Twilight jumped right off the sofa in fright. She hurried to answer it and there in the doorway was a very disheveled Fluttershy. Her surprise that Fluttershy could strike her door with such force, although great, was overshadowed by the shock of her appearance. Twilight had never seen Fluttershy in such a state.

Her mane was a fright and flecked with dirt and leaves, and Twilight noticed a serious slash on her flank framed in dried blood. Shallow grazes covered her face that appeared as if she had lost a fight with several thorn bushes. What scared Twilight the most were her eyes; those cyan orbs that usually radiated love and happiness now only reflected fear. Pure, unadulterated fear.

"Fluttershy! Are you all right? What happened to you?"

The pale yellow pony took four steps through the doorway and onto Twilight's carpet before collapsing. She gasped out several words: "Twilight… I only just escaped… need to talk to you- alone… it's not safe…"

Spike, on a ladder to dust some high bookshelves, caught sight of Fluttershy and tumbled right off.

Twilight quickly took charge. "Spike! I need you to bring clean water and some towels. And get my special potion kit from upstairs." Spike hurried off and Twilight helped Fluttershy to a chair. When Spike returned, Twilight slowly brushed her friend's coat clean of the tree twigs and dirt. She then mixed up a simple relaxation potion from a few herbs and tipped it down Fluttershy's throat. Fluttershy's labored breathing soon quieted, and yet there was no change in her fearful expression.

"Spike, do you mind giving us a little privacy for a while? I'm sorry." The dragon was nonplussed but retreated to the upper floor of the library and Twilight magicked the door shut to be safe. "Now Fluttershy, you're safe now. Whatever is after you won't get you in here." She touched her hoof to Fluttershy's shoulder. "What exactly happened out there? I haven't heard from you in days! We were so worried about you!"

Fluttershy lowered her head and only after examining herself for injuries did she speak. Her voice was a quavering squeak. "I'm sorry, Twilight. I meant to make the camping trip today, but- my animals. They've been taking all my time and energy. They're all so fretful and scared and some of them are getting sick and I have no idea what's causing it."

"Fluttershy- how did this happen to you?"

"This morning I went outside and found a squirrel on my doormat. He was out of breath from- from running away from something, or that's what he told me. He was so scared that his little paws were shaking, and- and-" Fluttershy gasped for breath. "So I brought him inside and gave him some medicine, and all I could get him to tell me was that 'something killed his family.' Then he fell asleep and didn't wake up again…"

The frightened pony continued her story in a rush of harsh gulping and whispered words. "He wasn't the only one. Two of my thrushes are missing and the others won't tell me why, only that they're too scared to go in the forest anymore because of it. And- and- I went to Zecora's today to buy a few herbs, but- oh, Twilight-"

As Fluttershy tried to explain- with many fretful gasps and stammers-what happened to her in the Everfree Forest, Twilight Sparkle began to feel a very familiar chill running down her back. A chill that made her cast a powerful warding spell over her hastily locked doors and windows. She didn't feel much better afterward. None of what Fluttershy now described made sense, at least to Twilight's rational mind, but whatever it was that spooked the Pegasus, it was quite serious.

"I went on a walk to Zecora's," began Fluttershy.

Fluttershy hovered low over the dewy grasses, flying briskly. It was a shame, she thought, that the day was so gorgeous and she couldn't stop to smell the wild lilies and rhododendron that grew by the riverbank. Her errand was important, though, and there was no time to dawdle.

She had a comatose squirrel to tend. And the ingredients she needed for a healing remedy were depleted. She knew she had to fly to Zecora's hut in the Everfree Forest because the eccentric zebra was the only source of these herbs she knew. Yet- the forest. It took the shy pony two full hours to work up the courage to enter its borders. This made no sense when she thought about it, because much of her work with the local Ponyville animals and birds took her within range of the forest every day. Several beaver dams and birds' nests were deep enough in the woods that Ponyville was beyond sight or sound and the only thing for a mile around was dense greenery.

The forest was so named because the animals there, and even the weather above it, acted of its own accord. Pegasi and earth ponies had no control over any of it. It was a relic of much older times when untamed portions of Equestria were prey to rampaging monsters and fantastical creatures, many of which were now extinct and found only in history books, but some still stalked its paths to this day. That cockatrice came to mind.

This notion had always fascinated Fluttershy, who found it unbelievable that animals could exist freely and without the guiding hand of ponies. She only made forays into the forest to keep a watchful eye on some of the creature populations and offer help when necessary, such as when a nest fell from the canopy of branches where it belonged. But within the last month, a funny feeling crept over her whenever she was in or near its woody boundary. A feeling that made her constantly look over her shoulder in the off chance that something was there, and a feeling that led her to travel very cautiously in case she disturbed anything.

Lately this feeling had given way to unfounded dread. Fluttershy knew and respected the unnatural properties of this forest, but animals acting on their own had never caused hairs to raise on the back of her neck, as had happened when she had last visited the beavers' dam. Something sinister was afoot here. It had taken such a firm hold of her mind that just the glance of the woods from her bedroom window sent a shudder through her body.

Yet Fluttershy couldn't put her finger on what exactly was wrong. It was only tiny things that seemed to change, such as the songbirds which, for whatever reason, had ceased their ever-flowing song and vacated their nests near the forest's edge. Or the den of badgers that, on further inspection, housed several malevolent snakes instead and the badgers were nowhere to be found. Or, further still, the very air itself. There was an oppressive stillness to it that tended to suppress every playful impulse. Before, the woody air vibrated with the untamed life and free energy of a million forest creatures and plants.

And now it was as if all that life had ground to a halt. Birds no longer sang in the overhanging branches. The gentle falls of her hooves on the forest floor seemed to echo from tree trunk to tree trunk, like the trees themselves were hiding from an unseen threat and were sounding a warning to the others.

For this reason, Fluttershy avoided the ground and kept to the air as she sped toward Zecora's hut. The Pegasus would much rather walk but today she trusted her wings much more. They would make the journey much quicker. "Why does Zecora have to live so far away?" wondered Fluttershy as she flapped her weak wings furiously. Then, a few minutes later: "I wonder if she's noticed anything different."

At length Fluttershy reached the zebra's hollowed-out tree of a home. She alighted on the doormat and knocked. The loud reverberations made her wince. "Welcome to you, friend Pegasus. Come inside and share tea with us," said Zecora, opening the door (rather quickly, Fluttershy thought) and ushering her inside. Her cautious glance at her surroundings didn't escape Fluttershy's notice.

"Methinks you have come for an herb or two. Never fear, I will do my best to help you." Fluttershy handed Zecora her list and sat near the fireplace, sipping from the earthen mug she was given, while Zecora searched through her hut and muttered in a strange language.

The hut was cozy and smoky, shimmering with the fumes of whatever brew the zebra had been cooking in her cauldron. Fluttershy found herself relaxing in the familiar atmosphere. Or she was, until she caught Zecora's next cryptic rhyme.

"Ponies ought to take care in the woods. Things in the forest have not been good."

Fluttershy stiffened and asked Zecora what she meant, and received only more couplets that, in combination with the steam and the zebra's ominous tones, made her shiver. "Strange things have happened of late, I often fear for Ponyville's fate. The forest has become quite dangerous, its creatures fearful and timorous. If the trees remain as hostile as this, Zecora will move where there are less things amiss."

Fluttershy, despite the safety of Zecora's walls and the protective enchantments that no doubt surrounded them, wanted nothing more than to be within her own house. The cryptic words sent chills through her whole body. She paid Zecora for the wrapped package of herbs and thanked her, adding an extra few bits as a tip, and dropped it in her saddlebag. As she made for the door Zecora stopped her and said, "Take care in the woods, dear Fluttershy. If you came to harm I would surely cry."

"I'll try," stammered Fluttershy.

Zecora graciously but firmly shut the door behind her. All too soon, she found herself surrounded by silent forest.

Except…

Something had changed, and she could feel it.

The stillness was suffocating. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, noticing that the very air she pulled in seemed to resent the disturbance and cling stickily to her lungs. A twig snapped under her hoof and it sounded like the crack of a whip; she let out a shriek and took to the air. She instantly regretted the noise because there was a distinct rumbling sound, coming from every direction, that grew into a low angry drone felt through the sensitive muscles in her wings. Her cry of fear died on her lips.

"H- Hello?"

The sounds cut off abruptly, but at the same time Fluttershy felt like there was a hidden malice somewhere nearby. She hovered in midair six feet from Zecora's cottage, whipping her neck around in rapid arcs. At that moment she found her strength and put her wings to good use, rocketing away from the clearing and in the direction of home.

Tree branches lacerated her face. The speed of her flight sent dead leaves falling to the earth. In her haste she crashed right into a towering oak, her face meeting unyielding and very sharp bark. Leaves sprayed everywhere and she fell stunned to the forest floor.

Then she heard it again, louder this time: a deep droning roar, like there was a dragon trapped underground and struggling for freedom. She rose shakily and tested her wings for injury, wondering uselessly why it had suddenly grown so dark. It was near noon when she left Ponyville.

By then it was already too late because the noise was the darkness.

It rose in swirling tendrils around her, forming itself into large tentacles that writhed like snakes impaled on nails. Amidst this hideous mass was a pony's face- admittedly a blank and malicious one with raw and bleeding holes for eyes, but recognizable as a pony face nonetheless. Yet as Fluttershy watched, her fear rooting her to the spot and turning her muscles to water, she saw that it was not a single pony's face, but nine. Each one rose on a black stalk and fixed its gaze on the pony beneath it. Its boneless limbs of smoke curled and thrashed at the ground.

It roared. Nine grotesque mouths opened to reveal rows of bloody misshapen teeth, and a sound came out that Fluttershy prayed she would never hear again. It attacked her with horrid miserable screams, the screams of millions of dying creatures or ponies or whatever in Equestria could make such a sound.

Fluttershy closed her eyes, hoping for a swift end just to end the torment of those unearthly voices. In her mind she heard the voice of Rainbow Dash: "RUN!"

And she did. She bolted away, using her wings to fuel her hooves' speed, and just escaped the crushing tentacle that curved down to meet her. It raked across her flank. Fluttershy ran faster than she had ever run before, well past the point where her muscles screamed from anaerobic breakdown and her lungs seized up from the strain.

Twilight sat next to the shaking mare, mouth hanging open. She neglected to notice a purple dragon's face peering out of the doorway above her. Fluttershy was shaking so intensely that she could barely speak. "And then- then I ran. I wasn't sure if it was chasing me but I just ran as fast as I could, back here. My house didn't feel safe because it was so close to the forest." At this she burst into tears and Twilight could not get another word out of her.

Spike, who had only overheard the last of the conversation, stood motionless. He didn't know what to make of it all. Twilight pulled a blanket over Fluttershy and held her hoof in an effort to stop the tears. She was as clueless as Spike.

The Everfree Forest was a dangerous place. Everypony knew that, although never, in real life or in stories, had she heard such a story.

Twilight offered Fluttershy her bed, but Fluttershy tearfully refused her offer and slept curled up on the sofa. She caught a few hours of fitful sleep and throughout the night thrashed and uttered wordless cries. Twice Twilight had to pull the covers back over her friend after she kicked them free.

It's going to be a long night, thought Twilight as she lay in her wintry cold sheets. The magically conjured fire in her bedroom hearth provided plenty of heat but the chill creeping into her bones was not one that wood heat or all the blankets in the world could remedy.

Tonight, more than ever, she wished for her Princess's touch. The touch that made her feel safe and guarded her from harm. The branches of the trees outside her window looked like evil arms reaching for her. Each tiny noise in the night made her jump.

CHAPTER FOUR: ORIGIN

Western United States of America, Earth

January 17, 2012

Bryn Hansen awoke, as he always did, to a freezing room and the sounds of an argument.

He often fantasized about what it would be like to awake in a warm sunny bedroom, filled with the things he liked, and start the day with a hot meal and his parents' love. There would be no arguments, no temper tantrums or punched walls or thrown objects, just a family enjoying the pleasures of a shared breakfast and conversation. Then he would grab his skateboard and ride up the hill to school. Or- scratch that. The perfect life would not involve schooling of any kind. He would have a great job, a nice modest place of his own and enough money to never want for anything at all.

However, this was the life given him and he had to accept it. No use dreaming about what would likely never be. He had to make the best of what he had, even if it was not much at the moment.

The daily shouting matches between his mother and estranged father set his teeth on edge and in the end, the topic being forcefully discussed was always some irrelevant thing like neglected bills or schedules; the fights stayed in memory far longer than the subject of the argument. Bryn often received his mom's leftover ill will simply because he was a convenient target. Which was more important, the cable bill or the people you love? If I died tomorrow, thought Bryn morosely, my mom would probably dig my dead body up and yell at it some more.

Bryn stretched his slender, tightly muscled 5'9" frame and brushed sleep from his green eyes. The wind howled outside and rattled the windows of his unheated bedroom. From the burning sensation in his nose, it was in the neighborhood of forty degrees outside his warm blankets and on the edges of the windows was a lacy film of frost. At least he had blankets. He could hear his mother, on the phone in the kitchen, screaming at his father at the other end of the call.

"I'm being stupid? I'm being stupid!? I'll tell you what's stupid. Stupid is me, standing there at the fucking bank with ten people in line behind me, trying to explain that there's no way three of my checks could have bounced and having the truth shoved right in my face by the fucking bank teller. In front of all those people. And I'll tell you what-"

No doubt his dad was shouting as well. His mom's voice continued, "Oh yeah, like I'm supposed to believe that! Like the car just HAPPENED to break down right before child support is due. Like you just HAD to pay two speeding tickets last month. What about the fucking rent?"

Sleep was a lost cause now. He would be late for school if he slept in any longer, anyway.

Bryn slid from the bunk bed he shared with his six-year-old sister, Serena. He kept his movements to a minimum in case she was still asleep above him. She was indeed still asleep, a shapeless lump wrapped in a Winnie the Pooh quilt with curls of her chestnut red hair poking from beneath the covers. The yelling competitions never bothered her; the girl could sleep through an air raid siren.

Bryn envied her and for a moment, wished he could reverse time and join her in her young innocence. So much wrong with this world, with our lives, with everything, and she doesn't worry about any of it. Stay safe, little sister. Bryn gave her the gentlest of kisses on her downy cheek and tucked the sheets in where she had kicked them loose. She stirred, bringing herself out of a deep dream, and whispered, "Is it time for school?"

"Just for me, because certain lucky kindergarteners like you get the day off today." He gently tickled her through the covers. "See you this afternoon?"

"Love you," said Serena drowsily. She rolled over and was asleep in moments. Bryn then searched the bedroom for things to wear.

There were no set boundaries for each occupant of the bedroom, and junk amalgamated together on the shelves or dresser wherever there was enough space. Because Bryn was fifteen and Serena only six, the room gained a comical duality from their vastly different interests. On the dresser were a set of dusty athletic trophies from Bryn's junior high track team days. These had been pushed aside by a large stuffed giraffe and in front of it was a colorful collection of toy ponies, as if the giraffe was a general leading the plastic horses into battle. The purple beanbag in the center was the only other piece of furniture save the bed and dresser, and it supported a pile of mismatched ballet clothes and Bryn's socks. The walls held several of Serena's kindergarten fingerpaintings and watercolors and a Bob Marley poster which was far older than Bryn. It gives this place some style, he thought.

Bryn silently slipped into his sweatshirt and slung his backpack over one shoulder. His trusty skateboard was tucked under his arm. His attention to appearance consisted of a comb drawn quickly through his unruly black hair. And so he began his day, a day like hundreds of others, just an ordinary high school freshman trying to make it through to the end.

Yet Bryn was not an ordinary fifteen-year-old. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

All across his hometown of Eureka, his classmates were bundling themselves against the bitter January weather and either catching the school bus or getting rides from their parents. Monday mornings meant irritated teachers, homework deadlines and shitty breakfast food in the cafeteria. To them it was just another day with nothing to fear except the wrath of Mrs. Jordan, the hormonal and foul-tempered biology teacher.

For Bryn it was a matter of life and death.

He bypassed the living room where a fire crackled and his mom bawled curses into the phone receiver. It was better to ignore her when she was in these phases, so her anger would go to his overworked father and not him. He felt sympathy for the man, who lived a hundred miles away and worked long hours at a power plant to support the woman who had exiled him. Bryn took an apple from the kitchen to munch on during the commute but, as he found out when he opened the front door, the commute would take longer today. Two inches of snow had fallen during the night and his skateboard was now useless. "What else is new," he muttered.

The long and chilling walk past the dismal apartment complexes, the swimming pool and up the hill to his high school only allowed more time for his fears to percolate inside his mind. These fears were like imaginary friends, or persistent ghosts, in that they never completely left him. He could feel their footsteps behind him when he walked and see their shadows on the walls at night. Namely, they were two: the fear of losing his sister and the fear of others discovering his secret.

This is Bryn: a contradiction in personality and habits, a social hermit viewed as uptight and snobbish when in reality he is simply shy; a person thought cold-hearted but who possesses a heart far overpowering his head; and someone misunderstood and ostracized by his female peers because even if he knows how to love and care for someone else, he sees all girls as shallow and brainless lemmings. He carries love for only one girl, his sister Serena.

Anyone watching them could see they were close, as siblings often are. Bryn and Serena communicated at a level usually reserved for married couples of many years. When his mother was on nightshifts working as a security guard for the gold mine several miles outside of town, the responsibility for feeding and caring for Serena (and for a little while, diapers) fell on her older brother. Thus they grew up together, played together and knew each other like two sides of a coin. The only thing keeping Bryn from leaving the hellhole of his hometown and seeking his fortune elsewhere is the knowledge that no one would be there for her. She is the bright spot in his darkness.

And this is also Bryn: a young man who possesses a secret gift. Or, in his way of thinking, a curse. One that he wishes he was never born with.

---

He remembered the first time it happened. It was a vacation trip to a lake, in the golden years before the divorce. Bryn was eight years old and his mom, mostly happy in her marriage and without as many lines of stress and worry in her face that she carried now, was heavily pregnant with his unnamed baby sister. The sun shone down on a beach of golden sand. A summer breeze whispered through the pine trees around the lake, fluttering beach towels and umbrellas of those who welcomed the onset of summer. The lake itself looked almost fake, its deep picturesque cerulean color too vivid, as if it was plucked from the pages of a child's picture book. Sailboats with vibrant colors bobbed in the distance.

It was early June, and at that time the mountain lake had not fully shed its chill from earlier months of snowmelt. The upper layer of water was temperate but below five feet was paralyzing cold. Only the adventurous (or the scuba divers with insulated wetsuits) were seen swimming, although farther out on the water were jetskis and wakeboarders. Bryn made castles and dug holes in the damp fragrant sand while his dad, full of chesty bravado, jumped flailing into the water while his mom watched and laughed.

An eight-year-old boy will always want to imitate his father. Bryn was no different. Soon he tired of making sand shapes and wandered close to the lapping waves. His parents, ten feet away on the shore, warned him to stay close. Yet he longed for the adrenaline rush of swimming in the lake although he was, in truth, a weak swimmer.

So he waved to his mom and dad as the waves caressed his feet and he waded a few feet out to where his knees were submerged, then his thighs. No one saw it coming: a wave of abnormal size that slammed into the shore. His parents certainly didn't, as they shared an intimate kiss on the beach and their hands explored each other's bodies.

The wave itself was not the true danger. True, it hammered Bryn at waist height with enough force to knock him on his back, but he thought it was all good fun until the water receded and easily pulled his sixty pounds beneath the surface. Another wave followed the first and sucked him deeper. The worst thing was the disorientation of being weightless in the churning water and not knowing what direction to go; he kicked and thrashed to right himself.

The sandy bottom was at that point only three feet below him, close enough that he could stand with head and shoulders exposed in flat water. However, the sudden rapid currents gave him only seconds, not enough time for him to regain his balance and swim for shore. The waves screamed in his ears to match his own muffled screams; the ebb of the current pulled him yet farther, where the bottom suddenly dropped out of reach of his legs: ten, fifteen, twenty feet deep and further into murky blackness. Bryn had only received three swimming lessons so far. He didn't know any of the basic rules of open water swimming or, for that matter, how to swim at all. The lessons on floating seemed a lifetime ago.

In hindsight, all he had to do was relax, roll over, and swim for the shore that was much closer than it seemed. But he panicked. He imagined himself drowning helplessly, suffocated under crushing water with no one to save him. He reflexively gasped for breath and icy cold water seared his throat. At that moment, while his dad ran madly to the shore after noticing his absence, something remarkable happened.

Bryn tried to visualize his next action, which was to orient himself and move his arms toward the surface and oxygen. Instead, the panic overwhelmed all rational impulses. He strained for where he thought the shore would be. Instead of his arms obeying the command of his brain, there was a sudden disorienting flash of orange light, the uncanny sensation of his muscles turning to formless rubber, and beneath him was solid wet sand.

"BRYN!" He heard his dad's shout from a long distance away. His throat was sandpaper and his ears were stoppered by frigid water. Suddenly he felt a towel wrapped around his body and strong arms lifting him up. He violently coughed up the water in his lungs.

Sheer relief at being alive brought hot tears, but he blinked them back because it wasn't like a man to cry. He clutched to his father desperately. "Bryn! You're okay. Shhh, you're okay." Then his mom was there, with comforting touches and kisses, and everything was all right again.

Bryn avoided the water for the rest of that afternoon and stayed near his parents on the beach. His curiosity about what had exactly happened under the lake's surface came much later. His dad, who had seen the strange orange glow but dismissed it as a trick of the sunlight playing across the waves, was too overjoyed to see his son safe to notice that Bryn's appearance on the sand was quite sudden- or, more to the point, that he reappeared twenty feet down the beach from where he had went under.

---

And that, thought Bryn, was only the first time.

He could have dismissed that occasion as a miracle, if it had been the only time such a thing had happened to him. But it wasn't. Seven years later and I still can't really control it.

At twelve Bryn was given several Spider-Man comic books. Naturally, he read through them multiple times and built up the notion that this thing, whatever it was, was his very own superpower. Peter Parker had his spider abilities, his web-shooting and wall crawling, and Bryn could- well, teleport.

The word 'teleportation' carried with it ideas of mad scientists and technology that ordinary people could only dream of, things plucked from a growing comic book collection and the overactive imagination of a young boy. He fancied himself with a cape and secret identity, and a mission of defending the helpless, as Spider-Man did, with his powers. It was a talisman he could carry within his chest and use to boost his self-esteem when his life started to go south following the divorce.

Except teleportation was the wrong word. His experiments with it, done in secret in the sparse woods behind his house, were all failures. He found that it only manifested when he was under extreme duress, for example in danger of imminent drowning, and its results were varied. And unlike his idea of how teleportation was 'supposed' to work, it was not always instantaneous, as the lake incident had been; he had very little control over the end destination. Once, he visualized the base of a spruce tree and willed himself to it, but it felt as if he drifted formlessly through the air for several seconds only to land ten feet short.

One thing struck him during these experiments, though. His body, normally a solid thing, became almost like air. He found that he could pass his hand (or what he thought was his hand, because it too was not solid anymore) through his torso with no resistance. The only strange thing was the orange light that accompanied the transitions. It seemed to emanate from his very skin during a teleport, or a 'phase' as he called it, and during these phases he was invulnerable to any solid objects. Later he became adept at phasing directly through trees and boulders.

Bryn restricted the tests of his newfound power to the forest because he was continually afraid of the telltale glow revealing him to be something different, something other than human. He didn't want his parents finding out, much less his classmates. This thing, which fate (or genetics, radioactive spiders, or cosmic radiation) had bestowed on him, was a gift that he had to safeguard and use in the correct way.

As he grew older, he toyed with it less and less because life had slowly made him afraid of being different. I'm like Peter Parker, Bryn often told himself. We're both outcasts with secrets that we hide from others, for their own good. To protect them as well as us.

The year Bryn fully honed his powers, and the year he later abandoned them, was the year he started sixth grade.

---

Bryn's home life then, two years before the explosive divorce, was the polar opposite of his experiences in elementary school. He woke up each morning dreading to go to school and begged his mother to let him stay home. "Everyone has to go to school," she would tell him, bouncing baby Serena in her arms. "I went to school, and I'm still here. I survived, didn't I? It's the best time of your life because you don't have to pay car insurance and rent and deal with all the problems of being an adult."

He reluctantly stood in the driveway at 7:55 each morning to catch the school bus and on the trip, he would say a silent prayer that the day passed without incident. Wasn't school supposed to be fun? With the nice teachers and playgrounds and everything? Why is it so horrible?

And it was horrible. For Bryn, at least.

Bryn's hometown held about thirteen hundred people within the town limits proper. A town of this size or smaller has a certain dynamic, a clannish and exclusive atmosphere, and compounding this was its distance from any other settlements. The nearest town was seventy miles away. People born and raised there tended to stick together in a jam, and rightly so, because often your neighbor was the best source of help when something went wrong.

However, newcomers to Eureka who moved there for job prospects often found it unwelcoming at first. It was like one of those old gangster movies of the 1940's where a group of families had controlling interests in everything from entertainment to food, only in a much more nebulous way. You were nobody, in other words, until you had set roots down in the town and proved your value and trustworthiness. The opinion of 'locals' mattered more than yours did. Bryn's parents had only lived there for seven years.

The schools were no different. With a school-age population of perhaps 250, divided between the elementary and high school, average class sizes were 15 to 25 per grade. His sixth grade class held sixteen students. These small classes only exaggerated the fact that school-age kids form alliances and tightly regulated cliques, and someone like Bryn, a social loner, was left without any friends in the class. His fiercely independent personality often rubbed others the wrong way without him ever meaning to.

It wasn't like I went looking for trouble, remembered Bryn. When the bullies were claiming the swings or the merry-go-round just because they were bigger than other kids, for no reason other than brute dominance, I would hang around the edges of the playground where the grass was sparse. They never came over there. Besides, the teachers favored their pets and suck-ups who, often enough, were the bullies themselves. It was best to stay out of everyone's way. If you weren't one of them, you were an enemy.

It was a single day that changed all that, a Monday in late April. The day started out well enough. School bus, Power Rangers backpack, paper bag lunch, math class first thing in the morning. Then history and English and spelling. He sat alone at lunch to eat his bologna sandwich and afterward ran to the playground to enjoy the fifteen or so minutes before classes resumed.

The swings were free, Bryn noticed, so he hurried to claim one. He enjoyed the swingset most of all. Every child dreams of flying and the swings were the playground's best simulacrum of flight.

When he reached the apex of the swing's arc, during that split second of near-weightlessness before gravity's inevitable embrace, it also reminded him of the sensation of phasing. All the laws of physics and matter ceased to exist.

Bryn pistoned his legs to get momentum. Just then he heard a girl's shout from the vicinity of the slide directly opposite him. One shout among the clamor of children at play was nothing to worry about, but he saw that its source was a blonde third-grader who had been roughly shoved out of the line for the slide. The shover was a classmate he knew well and hated: David Stern. A dimwitted meathead if there ever was one. He was at the head of a clutch of fifth- and sixth-graders taking possession of the slide and denying entrance to any others.

Letting the swing wind down, he watched as the girl- I think her name is Katie- ran off crying to the nearest teacher. The playground was supposed to be patrolled by three teachers at all times. Today there was only one, the petite kindergarten teacher. Bryn couldn't hear Katie from his distance, but the teacher's advice must have been rubbish because she made no move to discipline the kids at the slide or, at the very least, comfort the crying girl. Katie, in snuffling tears, climbed halfway up the jungle gym and sulked.

Anger boiled hot in Bryn at this injustice. Weren't teachers supposed to uphold fair play? By then his swing had lost all momentum and he watched the slide uneasily. David and the others took turns sliding down in dramatic poses, driving other kids away by their noise and presence alone.

When another girl was shoved, hard enough to knock her into the gravel, Bryn had had enough. Months of anguish at the hands of these idiotic bullies came boiling to the surface- all the snide comments and being tripped in the hallway- and now it was happening to someone else, someone who might not have been able to defend themselves as well as he could. He felt those shoves and hurled insults as if they were all happening to him. Bryn leapt from the swing and walked resolutely over to the slide's ladder.

David Stern never saw it coming.

Bryn anchored his legs and bodyslammed David off the ladder. He made a satisfying thud as he landed and the air was driven out of him. "You little-" he shouted, and came up swinging. But Bryn was ready. He dodged David's lumbering swing which was aimed for his nose- the dirty cheating bastard- with a neat sidestep and countered with a blow to his blubbery stomach.

David was four inches taller than Bryn and had a weight advantage of over fifty pounds, but Bryn was much quicker. Things were not going David's way in the fight at all. "Mess with someone your own size," Bryn bellowed. He hit him again and again, driving him further from the slide with surgical punches. David might have come out of the fight with broken bones had Bryn not forgotten about the other kids behind him.

He aimed another punch at the bully's scowling face but it never connected because someone pinned his arm and another kicked at his ankles. David's friends had come to his assistance and in a matter of seconds Bryn was in a very grim situation. That freckle-faced punk, Jason, had his arms trapped behind him and thus he was an easy target for David's angry fists. David got two punches in, hefty thudding blows to Bryn's ribs and mouth, before Jason released him.

"Teach you to mess with me, you little weasel." He spat on Bryn's shirt.

And in the next three seconds a number of things happened very quickly. Jason locked his arms and pushed Bryn into the hard gravel; David hauled back his foot to aim a kick at Bryn's face; and Bryn- flinched.

He flinched (or more precisely, phased) away from the kick. If successful, that kick would have added several broken teeth to his growing collection of bruises. There was a soundless ripple of brilliant auburn light and Bryn was nowhere near David's foot or any of the attackers. He instantaneously reappeared five feet away, solid and whole and shaking with fury.

"Too scared to fight me one-on-one?" screamed Bryn, spitting blood from his mouth. "Have to get your pussy friends to back you up?" Only then did he realize what had just happened- that his uncontrollable ability had suddenly gained a measure of control. So I have to visualize exactly what I want to happen, at the speed that I want it to happen. Interesting.

But he had also used his ability in front of sixty witnesses, seven of whom were only feet away and witnessed it in all its unbelievable glory.

David Stern, lip bloodied and shirt torn, backed slowly away from Bryn. He had just witnessed something that defied all common sense. That wormy kid Bryn Hansen had almost beaten him senseless, for no reason at all, and just when he was going to teach him a lesson, Bryn vanished and reappeared somewhere else. It was like a magic trick.

Bryn felt his blood turn to water. The kids around him either ran for their lives or remained frozen in place, unable to comprehend any of it, and Bryn caught sight of David running to the teacher- no doubt to tattle him out like a coward. The implications of what he had just done began to sink in. Oh god… what did I just do? Everyone thinks I'm a freak now. That I'm unnatural and dangerous. They're probably going to expel me from school and do weird tests on me and probe me for my secret. I have to get out of here.

Complete silence reigned on the playground. Every kid had seen the fight and known that something extraordinary had happened; the classroom bell rang but no one heeded it. And as for Bryn, he remained rooted to the spot, legs shaking as if they would soon collapse.

The teacher walked resolutely toward him, flanked by David. At least I got some good hits on the fucker.

Then, when she called out his name, no doubt to discipline him and not that slimy kid dogging her heels, Bryn ran. He ran as if a legion of monsters were on his tail. He ignored her frantic shouts and whistle blasts. He ran across the playground, through the gate to the parking lot, and into the trees beyond the hill. He ran well past the limits of his muscles. His breath was deafening and his heart hammered like gunfire. Moments later, he fell to his knees and vomited painfully, but even that didn't slow him down. He wiped puke from his lips and bloody shirt as he ran. Not until he had put a full mile between himself and that abominable schoolyard did Bryn stop.

---

The Eureka school system kept meticulous paperwork on its students. If a girl caught a high fever and went home with her mother, there was a record of it somewhere in one of many file cabinets. Also noted were any 'infractions' as they liked to call them, instances when someone put a toe out of line. One day in the spring of 2012, a newly hired administrative assistant named Robin got the task of reorganizing the records of these crimes and punishments and discarding those older than six years. The file was organized by date and the latest incidents were filed first. Consequently, Robin found that a disturbing number of cases had one student at the bottom of them or tangled up in them somehow. That student was Bryn Hansen.

Intrigued, Robin pulled out several folders and examined their contents. Each one represented two months. Here was a record of a fight which left two teenagers in the hospital. And there: an account of a vandalized locker and destroyed belongings, with no culprit named but Bryn Hansen suspected. Interesting that such a small school has such troublemakers and unsolved mysteries, thought Robin.

Bryn was not a bad kid in the mold of delinquent losers destined for thirty years of dead-end jobs and brushes with law enforcement. Life simply dealt him a bad hand.

No memories from the days after that playground fight were any good. Ever since that fateful day his life had been a swift tailspin starting with the month-long suspension from school following the fight. If it had been up to him, he would have abandoned school and become a runaway, but his parents would have none of that. The suspension was, of course, in addition to the severe parental beating Bryn received for his behavior.

Bryn got the feeling that not even the elementary school principal knew what to make of the whole affair. The staff was dealing with him as they would any other dangerous and incorrigible student, and that was a thirty-day quarantine interspersed with harsh words detailing the consequences if he did not 'shape up'.

His suspension allowed ample time for his mind to wander and think about the circumstances that had landed him here. Often he wondered where his head had been. All he had to do was stay on the swingset, ignore the bullies, and mind his own business. No one was getting hurt, right? Except that Katie girl's emotions, perhaps. But he HAD to start that fight and end up blowing the secret he had worked so hard to safeguard.

Had he truly been fighting for the benefit of Katie or those like her, the victims of a few bad apples like David Stern, or only to satisfy his own misguided sense of justice and personal superiority? And what was the difference?

He avoided thinking about the years in between that incident and the present day. It was a time in his life that he wished he could erase.

The truth hit Bryn during the summer after sixth grade. He had emerged from suspension to find that most of his peers either shunned or openly antagonized him. It was more of the same, really: jeering comments, purposefully tripping him on the school bus or in the classroom aisles, even spitting in his lunch tray. The naked truth about bullying is that in order for it to stop, either the authority (in this case, the school administration) needs to put an end to it or the bully needs to reach an understanding with the bullied. Bryn soon learned that the teachers were in no hurry to enforce these rules, and when they did, he was treated as equally guilty.

What was a guy to do? Was it his fault that when his lunch tray was spit upon and knocked to the floor, he grabbed the tray and used it to knock the two offenders unconscious? Or that time his locker was smashed and the books inside vandalized. Not only did the principal blame Bryn for destroying his own belongings, he tried to make him pay the school back for the damage.

The school treated him as a budding criminal. His classmates feared him. But as Bryn walked the fine line between intermittent detention and expulsion, he realized that there was no other course. The only one that would stand up for him was himself. And if it meant going against how things were done around here, so be it. He would not submit to them. He had scars from fights and gave many more in turn; even as he became known for being violent and unstable, he grew more introverted and shy and avoided confrontations. Fighting was his one way of dealing with those who just had to fuck with him. Needless to say, he never used his powers again following the sixth grade fight. Ordinary punches (or in extreme cases, hard plastic lunch trays) worked just fine.

In his heart Bryn only wanted to be done with high school and go his own way. Only three more months and three years of this hell. Then I'm free.

---

Resolutely, Bryn walked up to the main doors of his high school. He was ready for whatever the day had to throw at him. Little did he know that the day had momentous events in store, and they would not simply be thrown at him but loaded into a gun and pointed squarely at his head.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE LAST DAY OF MY LIFE

January 17

Sometimes, you can predict how a day's going to unfold before it's actually happened.

It's a strange and unpredictable skill to have. The 'skill' you think you possess might be only common observations, such as how much sleep you had the night before, the presence or absence of caffeine, or how many minutes it took to start your car. Or it could go far beyond that and be based off a bunch of esoteric nonsense like ancient prophecies and the alignments of planets. There's no mistaking that gut feeling when you start your morning with such a premonition. You feel it in your very bones. When something is going to go right (or very, very wrong), you just know.

Whether your hunch is good or bad is irrelevant compared to the feeling itself. Then, when you look back at the day and your prediction was correct, you might wonder if you have any secret family history of divination or if the day itself was somehow meant to be the way it was, ordained this way by fate or some distant deity.

Bryn Hansen professed no religion. He hadn't thought about it much, but the concept of some random celestial bastard bringing everything into existence within a single week seemed a little far-fetched. So did the idea of said celestial bastard having influence over your every move.

But, if there is no deity or fate, then where do such things as premonitions come from? Are they like dreams, in which your brain merely tries to make sense of things recently in your life, or are they a warning from Higher Up about something sinister in your very near future?

"Hey, are you going to take your tray or what?"

The serving attendant glared and snapped her fingers. He blinked and realized he had just spaced out while in the line for breakfast. Eyes glazed over, staring into space, the whole nine yards. Real smooth, Bryn. He muttered "Sorry" and took the plastic tray of food held in front of him.

"Next!" she called. There were fifteen others in line behind him, each teenager yawning but eager for their morning meal of mediocrity. He swiped his meal card in the wall-mounted machine.

Bryn carried the tray to his favorite table in the corner of the lunch room, next to the school trophy case. The entire wall was a glass cabinet and held dozens of athletic trophies in hermetic grandeur. The seat he chose was opposite the trophy awarded for state basketball champions of 1973. Eureka High's team had never won since then, although they had made the playoffs several times, and with the current basketball coach- the school's computer technician, who knew computers but really couldn't tell one end of a basketball court from another- he didn't expect history to repeat itself.

No one usually sat at his table, save one or two chess club geeks during lunch period, but for breakfast it was always empty and Bryn preferred it this way. He liked eating meals without being bothered.

Most students at the high school ate breakfast at home and arrived later. However, the school also received grant money to provide needy students with healthy meals if they wanted them. This was a recent development brought about by the current principal at the request of parents such as Bryn's mother who worked night shifts or worked too early to feed and transport their kids to school. For the low and state subsidized price of 30 dollars per month, the school would give your child breakfast and lunch every school day, to the tune of less than a dollar per meal. The lunch-only plan ran $20. Meals were deducted from the student's ID card; woe and a $15 charge to the student who misplaced it.

In Bryn's case, he was certainly not starving, even if his normal breakfasts were nutritionally lacking. He thought it was simply better to eat in peace without navigating the minefield of his mom's morning temper. He even volunteered to pony up some of the cash. The half-hour of silence was worth it. It was ideal thinking time, or for catching up on late homework.

"And I've done too much thinking lately," he said to himself. His cheeks were still red with embarrassment over holding up the breakfast line. Seriously? Am I that far gone? He rubbed his temples with the heel of his hand. A small headache was brewing there, no doubt from everything tumbling through his mind this morning. For some reason he had been thinking about some pretty deep shit lately.

It started when he began his daily ride to school (well, in this case walk, because two inches of snow would cripple any skateboard), and started thinking about the not-so-secret secret powers that he possessed and how everything in his life revolved around keeping them concealed. And it's not like I can ask anyone about this, because who would believe me if I told them?

Last night he had been kept awake by nagging doubts. Roughly within the last year, he had gone from blindly accepting his unique gift to critiquing it and searching for any other individuals with similar abilities. The playing field was admittedly sparse. This got him started on the premonition stuff, because he was no stranger to the feeling. Sometimes he thought it was part of his abilities to be able to, so to speak, cast a mental fishing net into the future of the day and get a rough estimate. Unlike his phasing, this was uncontrollable. These gut feelings just happened at odd moments.

A sinister feeling is sometimes preferable to no feeling at all. And today he felt absolutely nothing. It was a terrifying blank slate, an event horizon, and anything could happen.

Bryn thought the school breakfast program was the only worthwhile thing Principal Davis had done for the place. The man only cared about the football and basketball teams and about padding his wallet, and to hell with academics. The Mercedes sedan parked outside was proof of that. But Bryn was thankful for small blessings, and had even told the principal so. He couldn't even find much fault with the food. At least when the regular cook was working. If not- well, on those days you were better off making your own breakfast. Your stomach would thank you later.

Today's menu was a breakfast burrito, yogurt, a banana, and apple juice. He dug his spoon into the pale white goo and swallowed. It was still resolutely gray and chilly outside; the concrete steps and patio beyond the window were blanketed in snow dotted with students' footprints. It wasn't the most cheerful of days, and the clouds above matched Bryn's mood well, but he had hope for this Monday. It was the first Monday since the holidays. Unlike some schools that allowed three months for the summer break and two weeks for the winter one, Eureka High School gave its students fifty days, more or less, for each.

More to the point, it was the Monday that marked the beginning of the second half of freshman year. This horrible semester's going to be over soon, he thought. He bit off another chunk from his burrito.

Students began to trickle in as he finished his meal. It was common practice to hang around the lunchroom or the foyer before classes, as there wasn't really anywhere else to sit other than the hallways or the snow-covered benches outside. When 8:40 rolled around and the warning bell rang, most of the tables would be occupied with kids socializing or snacking in the last free minutes before class. When the lunchroom was fully alive with chatter, he deposited his tray by the kitchen and went to collect his supplies for the first class of the day, which was algebra.

His locker in the freshman hallway had seen better days. Its door was bent from thirty years of students' kicks and scuffs, and the bottom edge stuck out an inch so that it rattled loudly when opened and shut. This was not Bryn's fault and had been in this state when he rented it. There was also a large dent at eye level which was the result of a human head hitting it at high velocity- this one was in fact Bryn's fault- and demonstrated the dangers of trying to sneak up behind him and shove him while his back was turned. A simple dodge, quick headlock and the bully's head met the locker with a satisfying crash. Bryn pulled it open and took his calculator, math binder and pencil. Most would hang their backpacks up and leave it there until classes finished for the day, but not Bryn. He had a habit of keeping it close at all times, born from days in elementary school when bullies might try to swipe his pencils or other supplies. Old habits die hard, he thought dully.

He shouldered his backpack and headed for math class. Math and science classes met in three modular buildings set out behind the school while the original classrooms were being remodeled. This meant a quick but chilly walk down the west hall and around the industrial arts classroom to the exit, then up the hill. When the bell rang, Bryn was already in his seat near the back of the room.

How I've missed this place. I just can't get enough of cramped desks and angry teachers and low-grade insulation that barely keeps your joints from freezing solid.

"Good morning!" called Mrs. Bell, the math teacher, once everyone had settled into their seats. The chatter died down. "Did everyone have a great holiday break? I know I did. I'll have to hit the gym for a month to work off all the Christmas calories."

There was a murmur of assent. Those in the back broke into loud banter again, while the girls in the front rows tried to look studious and attentive. Their confused faces gave them away. No doubt the two months of tanning beds, TV and gossip exacted a heavy toll.

"I'm well aware of the fact that it's cold in here, maintenance is supposed to be bringing over an extra space heater but until then, we'll do the best we can. Now, who can tell me where we left off in our textbooks? A bonus point to whoever can solve… this equation." She wrote a math problem on the board. "No one? This should be easy for anyone who actually read through and remembered chapter seven, covering radicals and radical expressions."

Bryn scribbled some calculations and arrived at the answer. He remained silent as was his habit, however. He would never make a sound in class unless participation grades depended on it.

"It looks like we might need a quick review of fractions and radicals before we continue on, because some of you might get lost if you don't have a clear grasp of this stuff. Let's start with the basic radical laws…"

He slowly filled a notebook page with ordered notes, even as his mind was elsewhere. It was a skill he had mastered early in his schooling. His hands could write and his face could look towards the blackboard, but his eyes would be anywhere besides forward. Part of it was being mindful to his surroundings and sometimes the answer to a difficult problem was in plain sight on another student's paper. Bryn was not a cheater; he always made every effort to do his own work and succeed under his own power, yet he was not above using his sharp eyes to get himself out of a jam, such as a teacher calling him out unexpectedly. He hated being put in the spotlight.

"Now once we have this expression written out into its constituent parts, we see if there is anything in the denominator that can be cancelled," continued Mrs. Bell. He wrote down the problem and heard a soft thud on his desk. Someone nearby had flicked a note to him while his head was lowered.

Passing notes in class was, naturally, frowned upon. He kept his movements relaxed and slowly unfolded the paper. It bore a crisp feminine script that he didn't recognize.

Hey… I'm not trying to be weird or anything but I noticed you sitting alone at breakfast. I'm pretty new here and I haven't made any friends yet. The kids here seem really judgmental and so far they've ignored me. Maybe we could be friends? If you want.

Bryn kept his gaze focused while his eyes darted snakelike from classmate to classmate. He finally decided on a girl sitting behind him to the right, a girl that must have transferred in just before the break- or at least, one that he had failed to notice in classes before. She gave him the tiniest of smiles and returned to her work. It was hard to look back at her without being obvious. He managed to see straight brown shoulder-length hair and a cheerful face with prominent dimples. Her sapphire eyes, wide and innocent, were shrouded behind gently curved bangs that fell past her eyebrows, but what caught Bryn's eye the most was how she sat in her seat.

There was no phony posturing or sucking up to the teacher. She just was there, quiet and attentive, head shyly lowered over her work. It was as if she was trying to be invisible in plain sight. Admittedly he was taken aback, both by the honest sincerity of the note and by this mysterious girl he guessed was its author. Everything about her was intriguing.

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Bryn had a bad track record with girls and had never dated or even kissed one, although not from a lack of trying; any girl that gave him a second glance was usually shallow and only after his appearance or looking for a change of pace after dating several football jocks. In addition, he tended to choke up from nervousness when talking to a girl because he was never sure what to say. Small talk defeated him. He found it easier to avoid girls altogether.

And now that one was mildly interested in being his friend, he was at a complete loss.

He wrote underneath her lettering:

My name's Bryn. I'm not much of a talker or a socializer but if you want to, we can sit together at lunch. I know how this place is and sometimes it's better off being alone. What class do you have next?

Mrs. Bell droned on about exponents and factoring. When her back was turned, Bryn flicked the paper to the girl's desk with a quick wrist. Only then did he think, What if it wasn't her? What if I sent that note to the wrong girl? He calmed his breathing and reminded himself that today was the first time he had seen this enigmatic brunette. He glanced back and to his relief, she was writing on the note and- smiling!

The paper, now folded into a triangle, landed on his desk again.

I'm Caitlin Thomas.

I'd like that… finally I'll have someone to talk to that isn't calling me fat. And I have band, then science, and English.

Bryn chanced another glance at Caitlin. That's such a pretty name, he thought, and to his surprise her grin was warm and genuine. He wrote a final response and despite everything he couldn't stop the smile and the flush of color creeping into his cheeks.

---

The morning seemed to take days. Whether it was his unwillingness to get back into the swing of a class schedule or his anticipation of meeting Caitlin at lunch, the minutes dragged. He put in a substandard performance for band class, for which he played trumpet. Most of the instruments owned by the school were decades old and needed repairs; Bryn's trumpet had issues and would play several notes off-pitch. Even though Caitlin sat in the row in front of him, cradling a dented French horn, the honking and screeching of wind instruments played by unskilled teens made conversation impossible. History and English were worse than band because there was no temperamental instrument to distract his wandering mind.

At long last, the lunch bell rang. Bryn practically skipped out of English and the reading questions due Wednesday were already stuffed into the farthest reaches of his brain.

For the first time in a long time, Bryn Hansen didn't know what to do.

It's only a girl, one that probably wants homework help or a shoulder to cry on. So why are you acting like you're walking into a knife fight? As he headed for the lunchroom and took his place in the line, he began to wonder if he would rather have the knife fight instead. At least it would be straightforward.

He patted and tugged at his clothes. They just didn't seem to fit right on his body. And his hair- well, there was nothing he could do about that. It had a secondary brain that acted independently of his own, and as he absently brushed the mess out of his eyes, it fell back into place two seconds later.

Fuck it. Caitlin won't really care about how my hair looks, will she? Either she's sincere or someone put her up to it in order to make a laughingstock of me. Or maybe she'll chicken out. I don't care either way. Bryn took his lunch tray- pepperoni pizza, green beans, roll and pudding- to his table. He sat down and began eating, eyes lowered, and he hadn't even made it through the first pizza slice when someone said, "You're right where you said you'd be."

And there she was, standing across the table from him.

"Yeah," replied Bryn. "Where I always sit, I guess. Do you want to sit down?"

"Thanks." Caitlin surprised him by sitting, not opposite him, but on the seat to his right. It added unexpected intimacy to the encounter and Bryn was a bit unnerved. She was close enough that he could catch a whiff of her strawberry-scented shampoo.

"So Caitlin," Bryn began, liking the way her name sounded on his tongue. "You're new here?" He honestly couldn't think of what else to say.

"My family moved here two months ago. My dad used to work in Las Vegas, and then he lost his job and my mom found a job at the bank downtown. It's a little tight right now though, 'cause my dad can't seem to find anything. And I hate this school so much."

"Damn economy, right?" When he noticed that his joking tone and curse fell flat, he backtracked. "I know what you mean. It's hard for my mom and dad too."

Caitlin nodded and chewed her pizza thoughtfully. She seemed to be sizing him up, watching how he acted, and he knew this first impression was vital.

Should I talk about the weather now, or that dumb essay in Mrs. Todd's English class? On the rare occasions that he used words, he was not one to talk circles around a subject and fill the air with frivolous noise. He got straight to the point. At the same time, he didn't want Caitlin to think he was snubbing her or being arrogant. He put to her the question that had badgered him all through the morning, as kindly as he knew how.

"I wanted to ask, why'd you send me that note in class today? I've never talked to you before this minute. I mean, I appreciate it and I'm kinda honored you'd want to be my friend. You're the first one that's ever asked."

"You'll probably think I'm a creep if I tell you the whole story," said Caitlin, smiling at him. "Sure you want to hear this one?"

"Hey, it can't be any worse than listening to Bell go on and on about fractions. Then you take this denominator…" He imitated her monotonous vacuum-cleaner voice and Caitlin laughed. She had a peculiar way of laughing. It was shrill and escalated in pitch, finishing with a loud squeak.

At that moment, something deep inside Bryn's chest, something long forged and then drowned in a vat of liquid nitrogen, began to thaw. It was her laugh that caused it. Such a simple thing to do, but to him, Caitlin's laugh was beautiful music. He realized how long it had been since there was anything in his life worthy of laughter. With a throwaway line that was the furthest thing from funny, he had made her laugh and suddenly he was thinking of other ways to amuse her.

"Well… it's silly really. Have you ever just seen someone and felt like you've seen them before or known them from a different point in your life? You don't know them from the next guy, you've never heard them talk or seem them smile, but they catch your eye." She paused to dig into the pudding. "You probably don't remember. Right before the break, there was that day where it was sunny enough to melt most of the snow?"

"I remember," said Bryn. "The day when the school bus slid out of the parking lot because of all the black ice. That was your first day, right? I saw you putting your books into the locker four spaces down from mine. Blue tank-top, pink backpack."

Caitlin was stymied for a moment by Bryn's uncanny memory. "How- how did you remember that much? Were you stalking me?" She chuckled. "Not sure if I want to be friends with a stalker."

"No, nothing like that," he answered and found himself laughing along with her. "Just- just little things I notice. I'm like that, I pay really close attention to things and people around me because it can mean life and death sometimes. If you act like you're not paying attention but your eyes are, you'd be surprised at what you can pick up. Things that people try to hide or don't know they're doing."

Bryn realized then that he had talked more in the last ten minutes, in terms of total words spoken, than he had in the past two weeks. It felt completely natural to sit next to this girl and enjoy a meal with her. Caitlin's conversation, meanwhile, was a rushing river in comparison to Bryn's small stream. "That's, like, such a coincidence though. Do you want to know the first time I saw you?"

"Sure."

"It was on that same day, at lunch period, and all the tables were filled up. You know when you're in the middle of your first day at a new school and you're not sure where to sit or where the cool crowds are or if anyone actually wants you to sit with them? Like that. So I sit on the bench next to the trophy case, I didn't know where else to sit, and I noticed someone sitting outside in the courtyard."

Bryn remembered well. He had a good idea where this anecdote was heading, and he let her continue.

"So this guy's just sitting out there on the steps, no coat and it's probably 30 degrees outside, eating lunch all by himself. I only remembered it later that day when I saw you in geography class. Even in class or all the rest of that day, you didn't say anything, and-"

"-And I caught your attention." Bryn finished for her. "Honestly, it's the first time I've talked to anyone in a while. I sit out there for lunch a lot. The conversation is a little sparse, and the cold sucks, but no one bothers me. It's better that way." Her smile began to fall and he hastily added, "I didn't mean you, Caitlin, just- just some other people here. Bullies. Guys that want to make my life hell."

"Oh." The awkward lapse was forgiven. "But does this school just seem really weird to you?" Caitlin wondered. "Like, ever since I've been here, it's like I'm being judged and excluded for everything I do. And you can't sit at the closer lunch tables without being one of the special people. It's not like I've gone out of my way to irritate people or anything. It just feels like no one here likes me or wants me around."

"Not everyone here is a creepy pod-person zombie cult member. Just most of them." To his surprise, she was smiling at him. Those wide blue eyes almost seemed too big for her face when seen up close.

"You know, you seem like a pretty cool guy."

"Well… thanks, I guess. It's an honor to be your very first friend." The two shook hands formally and Caitlin asked, "So where are you from? Hopefully you haven't been stuck here for all your life."

"What, you'd hate me if I was?" he said. "But nothing to worry about, I'm from Sacramento. In California. We moved here when I was five because at the time, my mom's brother was working near here and supposedly there were lots of jobs. I hated it since the moment I saw it and even more when I started school here. If it wasn't for me being only fifteen, and for my little sister, I would have left long ago."

Caitlin caught onto the change in his tone when the school and leaving town were mentioned. His voice dropped and his fingers clenched around his spoon as if it were someone's neck. She didn't want to sound like she was prying into his business but she had to ask, "Has it been really bad, or…?"

"It's complicated. I've just- I've just had lots of trouble fitting in here. I'm not the most normal of people and some stuff's happened in the past, like fights, and sometimes it's tough to make myself go to school each day."

"Well now, hopefully it'll get better. Us weird outcasts need to stick together because the weirdness is where it's at. You're not living life unless you're weird, right?" Bryn laughed along with her while his mind was on her smile and not her words. Those dimples. And that laugh… I don't know what I did to make her interested in being my friend, but I don't want to lose this.

They finished their meals and stacked the trays on the return table. Caitlin thought it would be nice to take a walk outside before the afternoon classes started up again, so they left the lunchroom and walked past the north computer lab to where the outer doors were. On that side of the school was the overflow parking and the staging area for visiting sports buses or other administrative dignitaries. It was in the shadow of the gymnasium and the industrial arts building, and therefore in perpetual gloom cast by the brick buildings. The snow mounds of the previous month still clung to the earth and were dark brown from snowplows shunting dirty snow over them. It was a popular hangout for the kids who secretly smoked cigarettes or chewed tobacco, despite the regulations.

The school was fairly lax about off-campus rules during breaks as long as students didn't stray too far. No teachers patrolled its borders with guard dogs, at any rate. Besides those up to no good, such as the kids smoking or lighting illicit firecrackers in the ditch below the old agricultural sheds, a few like Bryn would walk around the football field or up the hill behind the parking lot where the old cemetery lay. The hill gave him a commanding view of the town; indeed, it was the very spot from which the fire department shot fireworks at Fourth of July. There was no time for long walks today though, and it was too cold for loitering.

The pair of newly minted friends walked briskly around the added-on classrooms and the teachers' parking lot, talking and enjoying the air. "So what kinds of music do you like, Bryn?" asked Caitlin. She kept her hands in the pockets of her parka and her breath billowed out in little puffs of steam.

"You know," he countered, "again you're going to think I'm weird. I've never really listened to any music except that lame country station."

"Seriously?"

"Just never had the time, I suppose, or the money to buy a bunch of albums or one of those new iPods. I saved up birthday money and bought my longboard with it instead 'cause I figured it would be more useful than music."

Caitlin gasped. "Hello… illegal downloading! Who actually buys music these days when it's all on the Internet for free? There's so much sick stuff I have to show you."

"No computer," said Bryn casually. They sat down on the ice-cold concrete guardrail separating the parking lot from the sheds; Caitlin shivered. "Well, I guess that's not true, my mom has an old one but she never lets me or my sister use it. She went through this do-it-yourself phase where she was working from home and selling cosmetics online. The business never went anywhere, and instead she wasted all her time surfing Myspace. I use the computers here, anyway."

"I see I'm gonna have to burn you some CDs. You know, to make you about 20 percent cooler."

He bowed to her, waving his hands in a flourish and imitating a British accent. "The effort is valiant and appreciated, madam. If only I had the proper equipment to experience this auditory euphoria you speak of." Her ethics of downloading bootlegged music didn't agree with him, being nothing more than a high-tech version of robbing a music store, but it wasn't important if he had nothing with which to play the music.

Caitlin produced a small silver music player from her inner pocket and offered an earbud to him. He listened carefully; the 'music' was a mess of screamed words and electronic distortion, with guitars in the background set to a thudding beat.

"So someone put a cat in a blender along with a bunch of scrap metal and called it music?" he exclaimed. "That's what this sounds like."

"It's called dubstep, you hipster. It's awesome, just give it some time to sink in," said his friend between giggles. His confused face was too much for her and she bust out laughing, leaning against his shoulder to support herself. "You're like a dinosaur or something. You need an awesomeness education."

Bryn had no inkling of what a hipster was and would have vehemently denied it if he had, being the exact antithesis, but he grinned through the lighthearted teasing and allowed her to re-insert the headphone into his ear. She played several more tunes for him. His mind was not on the discordant song but on Caitlin who, due to the cold and her short headphone cord, was now pressed up against him. Another song of droning synthesizers played and green eyes met soft ice-blue ones.

Just then, the class bell rang. "Guess we should get back," Caitlin said. "I'm freezing."

"You think Jordan will actually heat the classroom this time?" Bryn wondered aloud. "She might secretly be an alien because a normal human would freeze to death in a room that cold." His fingers ached, but his chest preserved the warmth of their shared moment. Caitlin took his arm for footing on the icy asphalt.

"And that's why she's so mean, because she secretly wants to kill all of us. Probe us with tentacles and brainwash us with biology lectures."

---

They went through the west doors to their lockers. The next class was biology, the one Bryn always dreaded because of its temperamental and bitchy teacher. Maybe Mrs. Jordan had a bad marriage, or medical depression, but that woman could win the lottery and still wear the same scowl. Her premature wrinkles combined with the frown made her look like an angry bulldog.

When Bryn reached the science room, she was already in position at her desk and frowning as fiercely as ever. "Good afternoon class! Take your seats quickly, no talking and no dawdling. Mr. Goode, that better not be cigarette smoke that I smell." She wrinkled her nose, making the resemblance to an old jowly hound even more distinct.

"Just change your tampon already," muttered Caitlin. Bryn snorted with laughter, earning him one of Mrs. Jordan's patented glares.

They found seats at the rear corner of the room next to one another; they could converse in whispers and avoid having to pass notes. While old and probably half senile, the biology teacher had the eyes of a falcon when it came to 'insubordination'. Insubordination meant whatever she wanted it to mean, whether it be passing notes or looking too cheerful in class. She probably just liked the sound of the word. As Bryn watched her gesture at the blackboard and talk in that horrible wheezing voice, he felt as if there was a bubble of happiness inside his chest. It was filling him up so much that he feared he would burst in two. It was making him smile and laugh and say unexpected things. And its source was Caitlin.

He looked his biology teacher in the eye and actually listened to what she was saying. Because of that euphoric sensation, he was able to pay attention in a class he had never once actively attended; somehow he felt that it would impress his female friend if he were to become a more diligent and successful student. I guess it can't hurt, really, he thought. All this time I've been missing out on how- well, magical- it feels to have a friend. Why didn't I realize this sooner? He looked over at Caitlin, red-faced and shaking with suppressed giggles at Mrs. Jordan's voice. "I just can't help it," she breathed. Her eyes watered. "She sounds like my grandma, only more drunk!"

In hindsight, Bryn should have realized that a day so perfect had to have an equal reaction. Something to balance out the equation. Something that would puncture that bubble and bring an end to this dream. Something to tip the scales of his blank premonition.

He never imagined that it would come so fast, though.

It started so simply.

"In front of you are pictures taken from a microscope, showing the four stages of cellular reproduction," said Mrs. Jordan dryly. "Now, working in groups of three because we only have a limited number of slides for you to work with, our assignment for today is to order them in the correct sequence of-"

BANG.

Somewhere in the distance, but frighteningly close, was a cracking explosion. It sounded like a far louder and deeper iteration of the firecrackers set off in the ditch. To Bryn's ears, though, it was chillingly like a gunshot. He had heard gunfire before.

The entire classroom fell silent. Mrs. Jordan had only time to turn her head in the direction of the noise, which sounded like it was coming from the lunchroom or outside in the courtyard, before its hefty bass roar was heard again in a rapid sequence. And it was much louder this time. BANG. BANG BANG BANG BANG-

Bryn's reflexes and animal survival instincts kicked in long before his rational mind caught up. "That's a gun!" he yelled. "Everyone get to the exits!"

The classroom erupted in pandemonium so quickly that Bryn couldn't make sense of his own thoughts. Was this really happening? A school shooting, by the sounds of it, in this tiny and peaceful town? Girls screamed around him; desks were upended and papers flew as students raced for the door. "DON'T PANIC!" croaked Mrs. Jordan in a voice that sounded like a rusted pipe organ. "GET UNDER THE DESKS OR IN THE CLOSET!"

By then, several had made it out of the door and presumably to the safety of the parking lot outside. That familiar feeling of weakness crept into his muscles, pinioning him to the floor on which he stood even as his thoughts yelled as loudly as the approaching gunshots. It was happening again. He was in yet another clusterfuck of a situation where to act meant death and not to act also meant death. Should he try to stop the shooter (or shooters)? It only sounded like one gun. What if he was hit? Could he still control his powers, for that matter? The sounds stopped but resumed seconds later, and from such close range that it froze his blood to the core. Each resounding bang was deafening. The shooter had to be close. He couldn't bear to imagine what dreadful things were going on beyond the door, and the students and teachers who were unprotected and, in all likelihood, dying with each successive blast. Was the gunman shooting up each classroom in turn? Or merely on a vendetta against someone and eliminating all who got in the way?

"Bryn, I'm scared!" Caitlin cried. "What do we do? Oh god…"

Caitlin's voice brought him to his senses.

"The closet!" shouted Bryn. "It's our only chance! We can't make the exit in time!" Caitlin stumbled across the room to the supply closet, tripping on an overturned desk and falling flat on her face. Bryn leapt over a desk with his backpack in hand and moved with startling speed to her side.

They climbed in the tiny space, which was barely big enough for two people. Bryn's forehead touched the cold metal door. Caitlin shut it, leaving a crack for air, and Bryn noticed that they, along with Mrs. Jordan, were the only ones remaining in the room. The rest had fled through the far door. One panicked student had creatively picked up a desk, bashed out a window, and jumped through the jagged hole it created.

Please God… don't let the shooter come in here. Please.

Scattered gunfire echoed in the distance. Through the crack, Bryn saw a sight that took his breath away. Mrs. Jordan had not followed the freshmen to the door. She stood in the shadow of the doorway, a slender wooden baseball bat clenched in her aged fingers. He somehow knew that she would not hesitate to use it (where did the bat even come from?) and, if her temper was any indication, could do some serious damage. Bryn shifted his body in front of his friend's; if he went down today, he went down defending Caitlin with his life.

Caitlin sobbed and clung to him. She alternated between gasping for breath and uttering terrified squeaks. For a minute or two there was complete silence, split by a piercing scream. Then the scream was cut short by another gunshot.

"Oh god… Oh god…" she whimpered. "This isn't happening."

"Shhh, we have to be quiet in here. Maybe he won't come down this far. But we can't make a single sound." He barely breathed the last words.

"I don't want to die," cried Caitlin.

Bryn whispered into her ear, "You're not going to die. Not if I can do anything about it."

One gunshot, then another, and with each one his friend jumped in fear. Is it just me or are they getting closer? A sudden idea came to him. While he held Caitlin and whispered encouraging words, he screwed up his strength and tried to phase not only himself but Caitlin as well. Never had he tried it on another person, for obvious reasons. There's a first time for everything. "Hold on to me," he said. "This might feel a little bit weird." And it was to Caitlin's credit that she stood stock-still as his orange light danced around the interior of the closet and began to spread over her skin.

It was the first time in three years that Bryn had used his powers, although he fervently wished that he had practiced more, because today he just didn't have it in him.

His body was now completely phased and Caitlin's arms touched the air where his chest used to be. At first it seemed to be working, but her body was still resolutely solid and her skin was acting as a barrier to his phase. No matter how hard he pushed, his light only illuminated her like a torch and rebounded. He willed his hand to become solid again and only succeeded in phasing the rest of his body back.

"What's going on?" pleaded Caitlin through teary eyes, her hands finding his chest again. "Where's all this weird light coming from?"

"Long story," said Bryn. He tried not to chuckle. After all, this thing that he could do was bizarre. Seven years and he was no closer to understanding it. "I'll tell you about it later, when we're safe. If this works we'll both get out of this alive."

He tried again. This time, he transformed first and slipped his hand just past where he thought Caitlin's arm would be. He expected his fingers to bounce off her shoulder, yet the results were breathtaking: he felt her flesh heat up and admit his light underneath its surface.

She gasped. And in that moment, as he tried to project the phase across Caitlin's body, he felt her. He felt the softness of her skin and her heartbeat and her breaths. He felt the way she stared fearfully at him, in the dark of that cramped closet, and he even felt the scent of her hair. It was far more than a touch could ever give.

Then explosions split the air like thunder. The shooter was right outside. A number of things happened very fast: six shots issued from only feet away, Mrs. Jordan groaned in pain and crumpled to the ground, and Caitlin screamed. Then the attacker fired again, this time at the closet door, and his bullet tore through thin wood panels to find the only thing in its path which was the head of a fifteen-year-old girl.

The glow winked out of existence and the girl crumpled and fell, face-first on the cold linoleum, like a puppet suddenly cut from its strings.

"CAITLIN!"

Bryn's anguished cry ripped out of his lungs. He didn't care that the shooter heard him and ran towards the noise, or that Mrs. Jordan now lay in a spreading pool of blood with six bullets embedded in her torso.

Deep down he knew that it was not his fault, but he blamed himself for his lack of skill and inability to finish the phase. I could feel it! It left my hand and touched her! If I had only had another minute to phase her, she would still be alive! I don't deserve to use this power if I can't control it when I need it!

His mind tortured him with if-onlys. Caitlin's blue eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling and a single tear trailed across her perfect cheek, the cheek that would never smile again.

"NOOOOOOO!"

At that moment the gunman crashed back through the doorway, drawn to the shout. He was unprepared for what he saw, for it was something eerie and insane that had no place in the world of reality. A girl lay dead from his gun and a boy kneeled at her side. The boy- burned. There was no other word for it.

He couldn't tell where the coruscating bursts of light ended and the flesh began. The room pulsed and rippled with its intense glow, as if a solar firestorm was being generated by mere skin. Yet it hardly mattered. That was all he noticed before he raised the gun and emptied its clip into this strange vision in front of him.

Bryn stood as the bullets whizzed harmlessly through his chest. If anything, the blinding flashes of light coming from every inch of his body only intensified. He fed his powers with the unendurable pain of losing Caitlin. Mere bullets could never stop him. They couldn't even harm him in a normal phase. Somehow, his unbridled rage was giving strength to the orange-red light streaming from his body and it was actually burning small scorch marks into the floor. Never had he been able to influence, let alone burn, physical objects with his abilities before.

With an animal roar of rage, he phased directly into the path of the gunman. The intense heat of Bryn's anger scalded his flesh. The killer dropped the gun in order to protect his face, but he was completely outmatched by what came next.

A white-hot fist collided with his skull. The gun clattered to the ground and discharged. In the blink of an eye, Bryn teleported across the room; although he couldn't pick up solid objects while he was in a phased state, the fear he had caused by unleashing such power gave him more than enough time to grasp the fallen baseball bat, lunge over to the terrified killer and bludgeon him in the head. It was over in seconds and was as if some creature of rage possessed him- his arms were swinging and his lungs were screaming but his mind was on his fallen friend- and he now stared down at a bloodied corpse, a baseball bat in his hand that dripped with the same blood.

I killed him.

I did this.

Yet all the killing in the world won't bring her back.

Anger fought revulsion… sorrow fought duty… and for a minute Bryn couldn't even move his legs. The bat fell to the floor. Is this how it feels when everything's taken away from you? In a single day everything's gone to hell… curse whatever goddamn demon gave me these powers because they're beyond useless. I couldn't save her. But maybe I can save someone else by ending this.

Taking down one of them would be for nothing if there were others loose in the school with handguns, hunting down his fellow students like rabbits. Bryn knew what he had to do.

He found that it was as easy as walking across the room, phasing into a more bullet-resistant state, and leaving the classroom behind.

Caitlin's dead… the only friend I've ever had save for my sister… for a moment his mind wandered to the lifeless brunette in the biology room. And in that single moment of grief, he let his guard down and with it his concentration. The light emanating from him fizzled out.

It was also that easy to die. Because not even a second after he entered the hallway, a trio of gun blasts roared at close range and his body exploded.

CHAPTER SIX: TERMINAL

Somewhere Else…

Being dead is not the worst part of dying, contrary to what most people believe. The worst part is the pain or non-pain of whatever unites you with death, be it blade or bullet or flame or crushing water, and the inescapable crushing fear of being powerless to save your own life and knowing that it is over. We live our lives afraid of this moment. We teach our children to handle knives and guns carefully, to stay away from precipitous cliffs or churning water or unstable ground, because we never want to face this inexorable truth of our own mortality. Behind all of our personal phobias lurks this grand one from which all the rest draw their power. It isn't heights that acrophobics fear but the result of falling from them. We fear the poisonous fangs of a spider for their death-dealing potential.

What comes after dying is actually the easy part.

The actual point of death, when your soul or consciousness or whatever you wish to call it passes on to another plane of existence, is easier than falling asleep for an afternoon nap. That pain is soon negated by the non-pain of being dead.

Bryn had never given much thought to death. At fifteen, can anyone honestly say that they've considered death at all, beyond attending funerals or listening to the doom-laden lyrics of heavy metal music? A teen's brain is hardwired for life, sweet life, for its joyrides and backyard parties and doomed loves and awkward first times and broken hearts. There are too many eye-opening wondrous experiences in life to waste time drawing pictures of razorblades and nooses and thinking up bizarre ways to die.

He would definitely put meeting Caitlin Thomas in the category of 'wondrous experiences'. If only he had been able to spend more time with her. If only we hadn't both died, bleeding out on a cold slab of linoleum, not even able to hold hands as we expired. We won't even be buried together.

Bryn thought about this for a while. Why would we be buried together, if we barely knew each other? We could have known each other better. I wanted to know her better, to tell her stories about myself and watch those beautiful eyes light up. Maybe I could have been the friend she always wanted and eventually earn her heart's love as well. He recreated her face in his memory, each curve and dimple true to life, and in this vision her mouth curved into a gentle smile. But such a silent image was all he could bring back; it took an enormous amount of willpower to keep her there and soon the face drifted away on currents of formless smoke. Indeed, it was very hard for him to think of anything preceding his final moments.

Sometime later, he realized something. He was still thinking.

In death, you are conscious of nothing. Your body becomes fodder for the grave's worms in the airless gloom of a coffin or is turned to cinders in a cremator, but is ultimately just a shell for that part of yourself that vacated it. It isn't you anymore. That special something that death's landlord evicted from your flesh is no longer a part of the living world.

If so, why was he still able to think about the aftermath of being dead?

Time felt liquid and amorphous, as did the foggy nothingness around him. He tried to say "This sucks," because it certainly did suck if there was nothing else to do for eternity other than yearn for what could have been. He no longer owned a mouth, or a head, or arms. He was a part of the void now.

The inky blackness began to brighten and resolve as if someone had violently injected food coloring into a swirling glass of water. What was at first smoke was now solidifying into ordered lines- solid beams and sweeping arched ceilings- until all was obscured by hazy bluish shapes. It looked like, of all the outlandish things in the world he could imagine, an airport terminal. Or what an airport terminal might look like if there were no planes, no commuters, no bustling traffic, and no solid surfaces at all. Its 'floor' was opaque blue and the walls were of a much lighter shade. The floor felt like cloud made solid, nebulous and unsteady. The resemblance to an airport was only in the vaulted ceilings and the rows of low benches. They seemed to invite a weary traveler to sit down and await the next flight.

So he did. The seat was as warm and comforting as a familiar armchair. I could get used to this, if this is what the afterlife's like. I wonder where all the people are though. For an airport, this one's gotta be the most deserted of all abandoned derelict airports.

And then he heard the voice, as loudly and clearly as if his entire body was made of ears.

"WELCOME HOME, HERO."

He leapt to his feet, raising his 'arms' in self-defense but forgetting that he had no body at all. Twenty feet away and gaining ground on him was the only thing in sight that wasn't blue. It was blinding white and casting rays of multicolored light in every direction, as if someone was shining a gigantic spotlight through an even larger prism. He couldn't look away from it if he tried. The ultraviolet pulses burned his vision.

"Where am I?" he gasped, not knowing if he was really speaking or not. "What is this place? Am I dead?"

The light crept closer to him and its voice vibrated the columns of smoke. "This place is nowhere. It is merely a transition between worlds. You have died, Bryn Hansen, but your tale is not over yet."

"There has to be some mistake-" he began, only to be interrupted.

"I am the Progenitor. There are no mistakes possible."

He thought there was a bit of indignation in the voice. It could have been male or female, or a combination of both, or neither one.

It continued in that same strident sexless tone. "Bryn Hansen, you have been chosen for this task because your heart is pure and your abilities may be the last hope of an entire world."

Now he could see it clearly. It was still a being of pure light, but in the form of a massive unicorn that stood nine feet tall with a wingspan larger than a helicopter's blades. Its gaze pierced him and laid his thoughts and feelings bare- all his love for his sister, every fear for her safekeeping and for the safekeeping of his abilities, as well as his grief for Caitlin. They were no longer his to protect. Bryn fell to his knees and felt its muzzle touch his forehead. When it spoke again, its voice was much softer.

"Go now, hero… remain pure of heart and trust in friendship. It is your only hope. A storm is brewing in that world, a storm of darkness and terror and grasping death. If Equestria falls, you and everything will fall with it."

Equestria? What the hell is Equestria? Bryn forced himself to look up. His eyes met the shimmering majesty of the unicorn and all the words on his tongue broke into fragments. "But- can't you bring me back? My own world- my sister-"

"There is no going back, young one. Such things can only happen once. You were meant for greater things, Bryn Hansen. Your abilities are unique and more powerful than you know, and can turn the tide of darkness. Do not let your fire go out."

In mid-sentence, the presence before him exploded into white fire and he found himself sinking through the floor. Its words came from an extreme distance and where there had been hazy blue smoke, light began to trickle in. The fog was blowing away quickly. Somewhere in the distance came its final word. "FRIENDSHIP!"

I get killed, plucked into some weird in-between world with a talking horse made out of light, and all it can say is 'friendship' and 'Equestria'? Is the entire universe on drugs?

He had exceeded his weirdness quotient for one day. Indeed, he had exceeded his quotient for everything. Life, death, love, anger. He only wanted to find a safe place to rest and process all the events of the past several hours.

However, rest would have to wait. The smoke blew away in thick tufts. Revealed beyond it was a fuzzy scene that sharpened like a pair of binoculars slowly being brought into focus. Any remaining light from the extragalactic unicorn was long gone. Then, all at once, there came a sound like a thunderclap and he felt solid ground beneath his body. Real, unyielding, mossy, thick earth that trickled the smell of humus and decaying grass into his nostrils.

I'm alive again.

---

October 9, 1402

Equestria

Bryn inhaled the sweet smell of existence. At the same time, he rose on unsteady legs and patted his chest to make sure it was real. It was his own body, all right. I'm wearing what I died in. His treasured sweatshirt was marred by three bullet holes and stained by his own blood. It had long since dried and hardened into the fabric, and parted stickily from his chest. But his body was whole and undamaged, the gunshot wounds healed, and so was his mind. He could remember everything.

Only then did Bryn raise his head to look around. He wished he hadn't. Was it too much to ask for that unicorn to drop me somewhere near civilization?

He stood at the center of a five-foot sphere of burned and blackened grasses, smoking feebly from the energy of his arrival. Beyond this circle was a grassy knoll of clover and cornflowers and rhododendrons. The terrain was as serene as a watercolor painting of paradise. A small brook bisected the hill he stood upon, babbling just past his feet, and lining the banks of the creek were hundreds of small blue flowers that he did not recognize.

With relief, he fell to his knees beside the brook and washed his face and hands. The water was as cool and crisp as any alpine spring back on Earth. Bryn scooped up sand and scrubbed the dried blood from his fingers before taking a long drink, and as he took heavy gulps of the creek's water, the spiraled puffy clouds drifted overhead. I could swear this was Earth. Interesting weather around here, though. The day felt trapped between summer and fall, or late fall and winter; the mid-afternoon sun hung heavily in the east, yet the breeze tugged at his clothes and buried its chilled teeth into any exposed skin. The shade underneath the clouds was eerily cold. Bryn shrugged out of his upper clothes and rinsed the bloody garments in the creek, and while his clothes dried on the sunny riverbank, he went exploring.

The low, rolling hills stretched away from the creek for about eighty yards in each direction. He hiked to the top of the tallest knoll to get his bearings, and soon noticed that his clearing stood amidst a circular embrace of trees. They were tall trees, too: ones that resembled Earth-standard trees like oak and yew and chestnut. It was like an island in the open ocean. Beyond the grass lay only unbroken woodlands, and the longer he looked at them, the more they seemed to sway and heave like an actual sea. It made him a bit dizzy.

Back in Eureka, what passed for 'forests' were scattered stands of juniper trees with sage, weeds and thin grass filling in the gaps. This was foliage such as he had never seen before. The trees were like silent soldiers, packed so densely together that sunlight could not penetrate the treetops.

A sudden chill crawled up his spine. He was, of course, dressed in his pants and skateboard shoes and nothing else, but the wind on his bare chest was not the source of the ominous feeling in his stomach. Bryn looked down at the dividing line between the grass and the forest which was remarkably straight, as if a giant had trimmed the borders of the clearing with a gigantic razor, and shivered.

The sunlight danced across the meadow and met the tree line. And beyond-

-was just blackness. As if there was an invisible wall to keep the light out of the forest. The silent trees stood amidst the gloom, watching, waiting.

Silence. How come it's so quiet here? Between the wind and the brook's melodic splashing, he had at first not noticed the general stillness of the meadow. Now he heard it. This place, which should have been filled with buzzing insects and birdsong and the millions of other nature sounds, was as quiet as a midnight cemetery.

Bryn repressed another shudder. Whatever happens, I don't want to get caught here or in that forest at night. I don't like the feel of this place.

In the far distance, past the sea of undulating trees to the north, was another open valley with a hazy snowcapped mountain range beyond. It was difficult to see from his distance, but it looked like there was a town nestled amidst the trees and a large river. It was two or three hours' walk at the very least. A town meant safety and information and a place to plan out his next move. "I need to get there," he told himself, "before dark." So he collected his half-dried clothing on the riverbank and pulled it on. His shirt was hopelessly bloodstained but it no longer clung stiff and sticky against his skin, and the hoodie was undamaged save for the bullet holes.

North was easy to find. Besides using the sun for navigation, he could use the creek, which drained downhill to join the larger tributaries within the forest. He stooped for a final drink of water.

And he instantly jumped back in sudden alarm. For it had seemed like a slender black tentacle was snaking through the water to meet his hand as it dipped below the creek's surface. Bryn blinked and the image was gone. The brook was just a brook, splashing and sparkling. Fuck this place… it's messing with my head. Just a trick of the light and these weird clouds. Yet he quickly took a drink and hurried on his way. He couldn't shake the sensation of something watching him. The wind whispered in the branches.

Don't look back, Bryn. Stick to the creek and keep moving. He walked forward and the trees loomed up to meet him. They bent over the stream like groping arms, their knuckled hands razor-sharp. One moment he was under warm sunlight and in the next, he was in a dark wood of wrath, in a yawning mouth of brambles and murmuring leaves and unseen eyes. The eyes resented his presence.

---

Two years ago…

A pair of giggling thirteen-year-old girls clung to each other in the tender way only reserved for sisters or the very closest of friends. They held hands for emotional support and shared warmth. Five feet away, a boy of the same age aimed a video recorder at the pair and began a pompous introduction.

"Here in the Year of our Lord two thousand and ten, in the witness of God and all other attendant spirits, stand Ashlie Butler and Erica Shaw. My name is Aaron Shaw, merely a humble reporter of these events, and standing- well, somewhere over there, is another witness, Bryn Hansen. We record this in the interest of future generations who will see what has taken place on this fateful night as a lesson and valuable reminder for such individuals for whom fear has no meaning." He pointed the camera at his face as the two girls giggled in the background, and ended with a snide "So don't try this at home."

"You're so stupid, Aaron!" shrieked Erica. "If there are any ghosts in this place, they heard you."

"Ghosts don't come out until three in the morning. Everyone knows that. It's the magic witching hour or something. Trust me, I saw it in a movie once."

"Oh my god it's cold," Ashlie interjected. "If we freeze to death out here before we see anything, it's your fault. You just had to pick the freaking coldest night and you rushed me out the door so I couldn't get my jacket."

Aaron shifted the camera back onto the girls. "You're missing the point. I found this super creepy old book in the library that talked about the history of the school, and it said that on January 26th, 1925, a girl was killed outside the old high school by her ex. It snowed two feet that night and her body was found in the bushes two days later, the blood frozen on her face from where she was beaten to death with a club. This cemetery is exactly three hundred feet away from the spot where she was murdered."

"Seriously, Aaron, where do you find this stuff?" his sister exclaimed. "You listen to every dumb story that the freshmen say to scare the junior high kids." Ashlie hugged close to her, shivering. Erica continued in an undertone, "And why invite Bryn? He's- well- kinda weird. No one in the class trusts him."

"I invited him because we needed a camera for this and he borrowed his dad's."

Suddenly, Bryn was there at the girl's side. "And maybe because my parents are fighting again and I couldn't stand to be in the house. Ever think of that?" Erica had enough sense to look abashed. He ran a hand through his windswept hair. "And besides, it sounded like fun."

Erica, predictably, missed the sarcasm.

Ashlie's phone and the light on the camera were the only light sources at hand, yet with the full moon hanging ominously overhead, they were unnecessary. It provided plenty of light for an illicit night of ghost hunting. Or, in Bryn's case, wishing he were elsewhere. Erica and Ashlie… two more reasons for me to hate this place.

Although the vapid teens set his teeth on edge, the majority of his anger went to his feuding parents and to the town in which he lived. He wondered if it was something specific to small towns that produced such a ridiculous fascination with ghost stories and forgotten lore. Was it a side-effect of this old mining town itself, with its 150-year-old buildings and the air of mystery that always accompanied history? Even the high school and the elementary school were old. The funny thing about a brick building that has stood for eighty years is that one cannot help imagining those who walked its halls before. Each creak of the floors might be an echo of someone's footsteps from fifty years ago. Now combine those creaky floors with a terrified seventh-grader and a cold windy evening, and there lies a ready-made ghost story. The stories become even more deliciously spooky with a graveyard and several murders and a kidnapping thrown into the mix. Now that I think about it, why does such a small town have so many cemeteries?

Bryn had heard it all before. This story was stereotypical schmaltz: the girl slain behind the school was angry at her long-dead killer and even after eighty-five years, her ghost stalked the cemetery and certain parts of the school grounds with a bloody knife in hand. And only on certain nights would she appear. For example, the anniversary of the killing, which happened to be January 26th.

True, he had agreed to be a part of the ghost-hunting ensemble, even though he would much prefer to be safe in his bed on a night like this. He couldn't stand his parents' yelling anymore. It erupted in a firestorm of curses and thrown objects, with himself and his poor sister caught in the middle. I wish they'd just divorce and get it all over with. But where would that leave me and Serena? He had no close friends at school yet. Aaron was only an acquaintance, and his sister's clique shunned him. He could see it in Ashlie's stares.

He pulled his coat tighter and let out a string of grating oaths at the wind and at his parents and at Ashlie and at his life in general. The urge to phase was strong. I don't feel cold when I'm in a phase. I don't feel anything at all, and right now I wouldn't mind.

But unleashing orange light in front of the girls was off-limits, so he shivered and swore. Aaron blathered on and on into the microphone and the two females laughed. "There's no ghost here," said Bryn to himself. "Just the ones they imagine, because this idiot wants them to. The only thing to be afraid of is freezing to death. No doubt he's just trying to get Ashlie to like him."

Just then, Ashlie interrupted. "It's almost three. If we don't see anything in the next five minutes, can we please go back? I can't feel my fingers!"

"A minute until three!" yelled Aaron. He huddled with the others, while Bryn hugged himself and walked amidst faded wooden gravestones with forgotten names. If he hadn't been such a practiced cynic, the atmosphere might have unsettled him as well. The wind hissed through the cemetery. The pine trees murmured and creaked. An ancient iron gate, long loosened by rust and wind and the tree roots around it, swung on its hinges with mournful squeaks.

And then, somewhere deep in the brush and tangled junipers, a shrill howl split the air. Ashlie and Erica screamed in unison. The wind blasted; the loose gate crashed against its frame with a frightening clang. Without waiting to see if the 'ghost' had a bloody knife, the girls ran screaming down the hill toward the school, Aaron not far behind.

Only Bryn remained in place long enough to see a lone coyote slink out from behind a tree and let out another howl. It was soft brown and thin from winter. Probably hunting at night, he thought. The coyote caught sight of Bryn, sniffed the air and loped out of sight behind the headstones farther up the hill. He watched it go as the wind screeched and snow began to fall. We're both misunderstood and feared by everyone. I have more in common with this coyote than I do with those girls. We're the true ghosts here.

---

It was to this memory that Bryn now reached, even though it felt like two lifetimes ago and someone else had lived it. I wonder if any of them were hurt in the shooting. Erica and Ashlie and Aaron. Did they get out in time?

He brought back the feeling he had experienced while standing alone in that cemetery. While his other companions bolted at the slightest noise, he held his ground and later teased them for being afraid of a squeaky iron hinge. There was a rational explanation for everything. Real things could be seen and heard and felt, and if not, then it was not real and that was the end of it. This was his philosophy- a philosophy which, an hour or so ago, had been turned upon its head. If magic unicorns could suck his dead body through time and space and then reanimate it, what was truly real anymore?

These noises can't be explained away with a coyote and a rusty gate. This forest isn't natural and it's scaring the hell out of me.

Sticking to his plan, Bryn had entered the forest and clung to the riverbank as much as the terrain allowed. The shallows were alternately rocky and muddy and soon his pants were coated in heavy fragrant mud. The stream curved slightly to the northwest, through a particularly vicious patch of vines and brambles. With every step, an uneasy feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

For one thing, this was no ordinary forest, or the kind of forest that Bryn had seen before. He only knew the scattered pines and junipers of his hometown, which were only forests in the loosest sense of the word, and had seen the California coastal forests as a child. Those were forests. Trees over one hundred feet tall, with trunks larger in diameter than the average car and gorgeous branches that caught part of the sunlight as it fell to the forest floor. These woodlands were nothing like that. They were a dark, angry labyrinth of crooked roots and low-hanging limbs, and no light reached the depths. Each root was a hidden trap to catch his feet and each muddy bog was a snare to flounder in.

And it was silent. No birds graced the treetops with their song. No insects hummed in his ears. No squirrels or tree frogs or deer. The stream itself seemed to stagnate and cower in its banks, and its water was a black reflection of the black branches above. The air was stale and heavy.

A chill crept up his spine. That old familiar feeling…

The slithering cold sensation went all the way down to his toes and once again, it felt like someone (or something) was watching him. His footsteps on the stones sounded like drumbeats. He whipped around, searching for the unseen eyes, and caught a flash of black slinking behind a boulder. "Come out!" he called, but his voice died in the still air, as if he had shouted into a funnel.

There are moments when silence itself becomes a sound; you can feel it crushing down on your eardrums like lead weights and crawling deep into your skull. You create useless noises just to deaden its roar, but it returns in force. In the midst of that unnatural place, he bent beneath its power. The branches murmured.

Something flashed between the tree trunks to his left, as silent as a puff of breath, and he only made out a dark shape wreathed in shadow. It moved faster than lightning and winked out of existence as soon as he trained his gaze toward it. Like a switch being thrown, the noise of the wind and the creek faded and blended into a sort of blank buzzing. It was the sound of a broken speaker or a badly tuned radio. It came from every direction and from the very ground upon which he stood, and built into a heavy drone.

Then it stopped. From somewhere nearby came a horrid cold malevolent stare. Bryn heard the crunching and slithering of something heavy moving along the forest floor behind him, and in an instant he was in motion.

"You're not eating me," he panted. He didn't want to look back. Not when it was making such sounds, like a giant trash compactor digesting six trees at once. When he wasn't concentrating on keeping his feet on firm ground, he chanced a backward glance or two, but only caught glimpses of black tentacles.

Up ahead was a ray of sunshine that had wriggled through the overhead canopy. Bryn focused his attention on it- and phased. Like riding a bike. Soon he stretched out and covered a dozen yards with each leap, flitting among the branches and phasing back to normal when the terrain became unsteady. The effort soon exhausted him. Thorns lashed at his face and arms, and all the while, it followed close behind, biding its time for the fatal blow when he lost his footing.

I can't fall now.

---

On his last legs, Bryn staggered out of the forest to an even stranger sight: the most quaint, multicolored, picturesque town one could ever imagine. Each narrow street was of well-worn cobblestone, clean and brightly lit by streetlamps looking like some long-lost relic of history. These contained actual candles behind their square glass panes and not the cold harsh fluorescent bulbs of his world. Everywhere he looked he saw dancing candle flames and white fences.

And the buildings… had he somehow traveled through a portal into a world made of Christmas gingerbread and spun sugar? The sharply gabled roofs, the vivid cotton candy colors of the siding and window dressings, and the wooden doors suggested to Bryn that these were farmhouses or country cottages. If he had not been starving and winded and bleeding from several lacerations on his arms and legs, he might have wondered why these houses appeared straight out of a girl's fairytale. He might have marveled at the sloped roofs which, although sturdy and well made, were built of straw. Or he might have wandered down one of the spotless streets and noticed the plethora of heart-based designs on the buildings. They were everywhere: on the weathervanes, stenciled into the doors, painted on the windowsills. Love obviously mattered to whoever lived here.

Either that, or this was the finest example of early Valentine's Day decorating in all of recorded human history.

Bryn suddenly realized he was quite exposed to wandering eyes. He was at the edge of the forest, some distance away from the houses and the twinkle of the lamps, but his white bloodstained shirt stood out in the gloom. He moved behind an oak tree; there was no one in sight around any of the nearby buildings and although dusk was getting stale, he expected at least someone to be around a town of this size.

To his left, not thirty yards distant, was a unique house. Perhaps it was a circus tent, because it looked nothing like the yellow gabled structures around it. It was round and two stories, with baby blue walls, and its windows were inviting ovals. This could have described any plain circus tent, but not this one. Never had he seen a tent with slender violet pillars or decorations carved in the shape of horses. A red pennant at its apex fluttered in the gentle breeze.

His stomach growled. "I wonder if anyone here can help me," he said to himself. "There has to be someone." Since the circus-tent house was softly illuminated, he decided to start there. That was his plan, in any case, but he knew better than some that plans can change with no warning. And change they did.

As he got closer, he could see that the tent had a backyard of sorts. A low hedge ran around its south side and a clothesline was strung between a wooden pole and the back door so that whoever lived there could hang clothes to dry without leaving the porch.

Visions of safety, a warm hearth, and a hot meal danced before his eyes. All he had to do was knock on the door and explain his predicament. The whole 'getting shot and being transported through space and time by a psychedelic unicorn god' thing could wait until he knew more about this place, wherever it was.

And then he saw it.

Out of the back door walked- a horse. This was unlike any horse Bryn had ever seen, and growing up in a town in close proximity to ranches meant that he had seen plenty of horses.

His mouth fell open as this horse, which sported a short white horn on its head, levitated a basket of laundry through the door. As if this spectacle was not unbelievable enough, a scintillating blue glow enveloped the basket and each article of clothing began to float from the basket and hang itself on the line! It was like watching a master illusionist at work. Then he noticed the source of the blue glow: none other than the unicorn's horn. It issued dainty sparks which propelled the clothes to their places on the line. When each garment had been perfectly arranged and pinned, the creature set the basket down and walked to the end of the hedge.

Bryn stood frozen there, halfway between his oak tree and the house, abruptly unsure what to do. He didn't want to startle it. Dropping to all fours and ducking behind a nearby shrub, he took a closer look.

The unicorn, or whatever the hell it was, remained near the hedge and stared at the rapidly fading sunset. It must be a girl unicorn, Bryn thought. What else would have hair like that? And what the hell kind of place is this where unicorns live in circus houses and have curled purple hair? Purple. Hair. And large eyelashes. He couldn't see much of her face, due to the hedge and the angle, but her body language suggested grace and refinement. Her hair was done up in elaborate curls, as was her tail, and she even bore light eye makeup around a pair of blue eyes that looked too large, too blue to be real. No normal horse had eyes like that. No normal horse wore mascara or had fluttering girlish eyelashes. Her coat, now that she was out from under the eaves of the house, shimmered in the moonlight and was pure milky white. Without realizing it, he had slunk from behind his bush in order to examine her more closely.

Perhaps the light was stronger than Bryn thought, for at that moment the horned horse turned her head and spied him crouching in plain sight. She let out a piercing scream, like some film noir heroine at the mercy of a killer, and the echoes bounced off nearby walls to create an inharmonious wall of noise. "Help me!"

In what goddamned messed up world can horses talk? Wherever this place is, I think being dead was a better deal.

Doors slammed and windows opened and the street quickly filled with startled horses. "What's going on?" said one, obviously male and russet-colored with a wild brown mane. "I heard a scream!"

"There's a horrid ugly monster in my backyard!" screeched the white unicorn.

"Wait! I wasn't attacking you! I'm just looking for someplace to stay tonight, I have money and I'll pay!" he shouted desperately. "I didn't mean to scare you!" His voice was lost amidst the clattering of hooves on the cobblestones and the shouts of the rapidly growing crowd. "What in the name of Celestia is that thing?" a horse cried. "Somepony help her!"

By now, the purple-maned white unicorn had fainted. She crashed dramatically to the ground, hooves splayed out and mane covering her eyes.

Bryn was presented with so much outlandishness at once that he did the only sane thing, which was to run like hell. And run he did. What energy left in his aching muscles that the nightmare in the forest hadn't robbed was used to bolt back toward the trees. The tree line was only forty feet away! I can make it. Before he reached the safety of the woods, a rainbow-colored streak rocketed down from the sky to land on all fours in front of him, cutting off his exit.

"HEY! Where do you think you're going? And what in the name of Celestia are you?!"

He had reached his limit with forests and talking horses. "Get out of the way," he gasped hoarsely, "and I won't hurt you."

"Trying to creep up on Rarity, at night? Trying to hurt one of my friends?" shouted the newly arrived horse. This one was cyan-colored and female, with a wild windswept mane reflecting all the colors of the rainbow, and her magenta eyes were narrowed in anger. She lacked a horn but instead owned a pair of richly feathered wings. "You're coming with me. The Mayor can decide what to do with you."

Bryn doubted if he had the strength to phase again, and even if he could, he thought it a bad idea to display his powers in front of these weird horses. I guess they would be ponies, he thought as he stared down the one in front of him. They're much smaller than the farm horses I've seen before. This one stood about fifty-five inches tall at the ears. Her multicolored hair was level with his ribcage and, taking her wings out of the equation, she didn't appear to pose much of a physical challenge. He had fought much larger (and uglier) opponents before.

So when this arrogant pony made a gesture with her wing for him to turn around and follow her toward town, Bryn stood his ground. "You're not taking me anywhere, freak."

Then her wings rippled and with astonishing speed she leaped forward. Bryn received the very solid and muscled weight of the pony in his gut, and doubled over with her atop him. She roughly pinioned his arms to the ground with her hooves. Whatever they feed these horses here, they're pure muscle, or at least this one is. "What part of come with me did you not understand?" Casually, she flicked her mane out of her eyes, and gave him a cocky fighter's stare.

Bryn had faced bullies before. The ones he absolutely loathed were the bullies with roguish charisma, the assholes that sucked up to the teachers and made being an asshole look attractive. In this pony's amethyst eyes he saw only that same brashness of David Stern, who would trip him in the hallways and then glance, grinning, to his peers for approval. Never mind that she was probably sticking up for her friend Miss White Unicorn, as any friend would do, but at the moment he was beyond caring and out of time. He hadn't taken a bullet and been teleported into this nightmarish place just to be hog-tied and taunted by another bully. Caitlin didn't die for this.

"Go to hell," he growled, and smashed his forehead into hers.

It was like head-butting a concrete wall. He saw stars and the pony redoubled her grip, not stunned whatsoever. Desperate, he twisted sideways in order to clear his legs. The change of direction took her by surprise; she expected the predictable punch but instead he brought his knees up and kicked with all his might at her soft underbelly. The pony was quite equal to this. She took to the air with that same eye-popping speed, dodging his strike with ease, and instead of attacking straight on, she did a barrel roll and swung back to aim at Bryn's rear.

I wonder where the rainbow streak comes from, he wondered. Probably fairy dust flying out of her ass.

Just as he speculated how this blue horse could fly with such obvious skill, her piledriver back legs came towards him at terminal velocity. All he could do was bring his arm up to defend his head. Her flying kick felt like the impact of a two-ton truck. He aimed a punch at her sneering face but she rolled right, escaping to the sky once more.

"This is bad," he muttered. She had an advantage of both range and speed and without his special abilities, Bryn was fearing defeat. He played one last card. He faked a dodge to the right and she fell right into it. At the last moment, he leaped left and wrapped his arms around her midsection as she sped by. With Bryn's added 160 pounds and frantic punches, he managed to bring her down to earth. The only difference was that Bryn fell heavily, out of wind and energy, while the pony was fresh and angry and landed on all four hooves like a cat. Now it was her turn to aim another kick which connected to Bryn's sternum and sent him sprawling.

Under such circumstances Bryn thought it was prudent to break his code and phase the hell out of there. "Now let's try this again," yelled the horse. "You're coming with-"

A bullet of golden light flew into the forest. "-me…?" Rainbow Dash, not even slightly winded from the brawl with that hideous thing, found herself talking to thin air.

---

Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, and a crowd of assorted bystanders soon gathered around the scene. If Rarity's screams hadn't alerted nearby ponies to something amiss, the quick but furious battle certainly did, and Rainbow Dash hovered at the spot where Bryn had vanished looking slightly pleased with herself. Twilight, forgetting for the moment that she was very near the edge of the forest that figured prominently in her nightmares, was all business despite the dressing gown around her shoulders and messy mane.

"I heard the screams, Rarity, is everything okay?"

"It- it- it was horrible," stammered Rarity. "Here I was, hanging the last of my laundry, and then this uncouth beast was watching me." She shuddered.

"Rainbow Dash, did you see what it was?"

"Saw it?" declared Rainbow. "I brought that thing down to size! It was a piece of cake. Except, ya know, the part where it escaped into the forest. Sorry about that."

Twilight huffed, a puff of smoke angrily escaping her muzzle. "But did you see what it was? Something comes into Ponyville and terrorizes Rarity, and it gets away without anypony actually getting a good look at it?"

"I know exactly what it looks like, Twilight! It wasn't a pony, and it stood on two legs instead of four, and its skin was all scaly. There was blood all over it and if I ever get my hooves on that parasprite again, he'll be sorry."

As Twilight shook her head in rapt disbelief, Pinkie Pie trotted up to the lane and passed Carousel Boutique. "Twilight! Twilight!" called Pinkie. "Did you hear? Some weirdo weirdy-pants was in town somewhere near here! Cheerilee told me that Rarity screamed and then I decided to come and see!" She sprang in circles around Twilight. "Is it still here? Where is it? Where is it?"

"PINKIE!" bellowed Twilight. "Would everypony please just calm down! Now Rainbow Dash, what exactly happened?" Pinkie continued bouncing.

"I told you, Twilight, this weird-looking scaly thing on two legs was stalking Rarity!"

And, predictably, Pinkie Pie jumped into the conversation. "Scaly? That's silly, Dashie! Since when do dragons come to town and spy on ponies? Wouldn't a dragon be really big and scaly, and walk on all four legs? Maybe it was an alligator-"

"It wasn't a dragon or an alligator, Pinkie," exclaimed Rainbow Dash. "It had really pale skin and no hair. Well- there was hair on its head, but-"

A light grey Pegasus mare with bubbles for a cutie mark swooped down to land next to Pinkie Pie. She ignored Pinkie's hyperactive monologue altogether, addressing Twilight instead. "I was flying home and I heard shouting," said the mare. "I don't like loud noises." Her eyes were endearingly out of focus.

Twilight took a deep measured breath and, as Princess Cadance had taught her, exhaled with a sweeping motion of her hoof. She then proceeded to cram said hoof into Pinkie's mouth, abruptly silencing her story about alligator spies disguised as dragons. "Everypony, there's nothing to see here. Whatever was here is gone and if it comes back we'll be ready. Rainbow, do you think you could stay with Rarity tonight just in case?"

Rainbow Dash flew to Rarity's side. "Sure thing, Twilight. Nothing's getting past me."

"And Derpy, you should probably head home to your daughter. Everything's all right." The wall-eyed Pegasus flew off in lazy circles, muttering, "I just don't know…" The crowd of ponies soon dispersed. Twilight and her three friends were alone.

At this point, Rarity spoke up. "Twilight, do you think that- thing- was just scared? Rainbow Dash said it was covered in blood. What if it was hurt and just looking for help?"

"Then it might be back, and we'll worry about that if it happens."

The trees swayed ominously. With each gust of wind, chills trailed up Twilight's legs and withers. "Rarity… don't worry. Rainbow's here and we should probably get inside soon." What she really meant to say was I don't want to be out here after dark, but she would rather fail one of Celestia's tests than stand at the borders of the forest at night and explain her peculiar fear of forests. In those whispering branches she saw only dank creeping things that would slither over her coat and trap her in crushing darkness.

With a violent shiver, she bid Rarity goodnight and made for her library with all speed. Rarity and Rainbow Dash headed for the Boutique's back door while Pinkie bounced along the path to town, singing "Giggle at the Ghosty" in a loud voice.

"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Rainbow Dash once the pair were inside Rarity's kitchen. The Pegasus closed and locked the windows.

"Yes, darling," said Rarity, but her heart was not in it. In truth, she was thinking about the two-legged being. She could still see his blood-stained clothing and fearful stare, and imagined him somewhere in a dark forest clearing, hungry and lonely and freezing.

In the same way that Rainbow Dash represented loyalty in a living breathing pony form, Rarity represented generosity. It ran deeper than a simple set of personal beliefs; essentially, Rarity was generosity. Her Element and her very nature compelled her to show charity to both friends and strangers. Without knowing a single thing about the human who had been killed and whisked through time and space to Equestria, she soon found herself worrying about him and perhaps even considering seeking him out in the morning to apologize. True, she had screamed, but only from justified shock at his appearance. Perhaps he just wanted a friend, she thought. Oh, Rarity, why did you have to scream and make such a scene?

"Did you see his skin?" Rainbow continued. "It was all weird and hairless and slimy looking."

"Please, Rainbow Dash, I'd rather not talk about it… it's been a trying day. First the spa is closed until further notice because Lotus Blossom went to visit her cousin in Manehatten and apparently hasn't been seen since. Her sister is frantic. And then Sweetie Belle's ridiculous antics- laundry room full of tree sap, feathers and glitter everywhere- ugh…" The unicorn gestured for her friend to follow her upstairs. "I need a vacation. Or a vacation from this vacation."

"Okay, not talking about it. But did you see how I kicked him and he fell on his face?"

"Rainbow Dash-"

The wild-maned pony was already rolling on the carpet with laughter. She's as bad as Sweetie Belle, thought Rarity dully. "So ya have anything to eat before I hit the hay? I need to refresh my physique, after all. These muscles don't take care of themselves."

"Oh- right. I forgot all about the legendary appetites of Pegasi." She waved a hoof at the kitchen. "There's plenty of oats and clover, even a few eggs from this morning, whatever you want is yours, and the spare bedroom too." Rarity hesitated. "And Rainbow, sorry I've been so short with everypony lately. Thank you for being here to protect me."

"Just doing my job," declared Rainbow Dash proudly. She flexed her four-foot wingspan. Rarity climbed the stairs to her bedroom, intending to end her day before it deteriorated any further.

She crossed to her bathroom and started a steaming hot shower. This was her safe place and sanctuary from a world far bigger and more terrifying than one unicorn could handle. Many of her best design inspirations were not born at her workbench or her sewing machine, but from long showers with plenty of essential oils and body washes.

The tension of the day was quickly washed down the drain, and yet even after several minutes of standing there with the water dripping from her mane and plastering her delicate fur against her body, she was still uneasy and began talking to herself as soon as she had climbed from the tub. "Now take deep breaths, Rarity. Remember: poise and passion." Her vanity dresser was a neatly arranged mess of brushes, curlers and the dizzying array of makeup supplies needed to make herself look like a million bits. After all, much like her generosity, her fabulosity was also a part of her. She toweled her mane dry and left it hanging in a lavender-scented curtain over her shoulders; its maintenance could wait until the morning.

Rarity's bed was soft and inviting. "Ughhhh…" she sighed as she sank into the silk sheets. "Why did I make such a scene? All I remember was that he said he didn't want to hurt me, and then I fainted and Rainbow attacked him…" She tossed and turned and muttered to herself in the dark. "Tomorrow, as Celestia is my witness, I will find him and offer him friendship."

CHAPTER SEVEN: NIGHT COURT

October 9

The Princess of the Night flexed her powerful wings. The muscles ached from being locked against her sides for so long, and her flanks tingled numbly. Celestia was not lying when she said this infernal throne was uncomfortable, she thought. What was her nickname for the Throne of Canterlot? The golden torture.

It was magnificent, to be sure, due to its size and metallic paneling and glittering bejeweled filigree: a suitable seat for the ruler of Equestria. The velvet carpeting draped from the steps was the same shade as her midnight-blue mane. At each sunset, a squad of servants rolled up the bright red carpeting of the day and replaced it with one more suited to the proceedings of the evening. Matching tapestries hung between the stained glass windows of the throne room and her own waning moon shone through every detailed panel to her right, casting shadowed lines and mosaics across the room that was, at the moment, filled with ponies. At her side was the commander of her Night Guard, an earth pony named Darkmane who stood as tall as herself and nearly twice as wide; at forty years old he had the stamina of a pony half his age and was all hulking muscle, encased in jet-black plate armor that seemed to drink the torches' light. His cool gray eyes swept the throne room. Any threats to the Princess would be pulverized under his colossal hooves.

She brought a silver-shod hoof to her forehead where a dull ache was simmering. Never in another thousand years would she admit it to her sister, but her Night Court duties were the one thing about her position as co-ruler of Equestria that she hated. With a longing glance at the moon and stars dancing in the outside sky, she wished she could forget her responsibility of dealing with the day's remaining judicial business and take flight among her stars.

Celestia was always the social princess, the one most loved by her citizens, even before my exile. Even with the crushing mantle of the sun and the public face of our nation on her shoulders, she still takes time to listen to ponies' stories and daily troubles and dreams. It is what she was born to do. The shining white Princess of the Day was born to be the leader, and the reclusive, misunderstood, feared Princess of the Night was born to be a tyrant. I bore love for my subjects, in my own way, and yet ponies still fear my night as they did then. Only cowardly and craven things that use my darkness to harm others are to be feared, and not the creator of the darkness… when will these brainless mules ever realize this?

Princess Luna drew in a deep breath and exhaled. For a moment, her thoughts took her to a darker frame of mind that was only noticeable as a downward crease on her forehead.

It was a Princess's duty to love her subjects and seek their approval, and to treat every pony with love and justice. But a thousand years is a long time. Deep within the secret chambers of her heart was a resentment of the ponies before her, because in their eyes she saw those who had originally shunned her beautiful night so many untold centuries ago. Has it really been that long? Have I spent those many years alone on the moon only to have to suffer through the petty squabbles of everyday ponies not worth my sister's time?

She shifted awkwardly on the throne with a sigh. It would be a long night, she realized, judging by the number of ponies filling the floor space. In principle, the Night Court of Canterlot heard small to medium cases or those that Celestia's schedule could not fit. High-profile trials might require both royal sisters' presence- such as the case several months ago involving a rogue griffon assassin and a traitor in Celestia's own personal guard- but normally Celestia's duties kept her constantly traveling and interacting with Canterlot elite and foreign dignitaries. This put Luna on the throne during Celestia's resting hours, cleaning up the legal equivalent of spilled milk.

Celestia portrayed it as a good thing. "You have been gone a long time, sister. Taking up the duties of the Night Court and fairly judging citizens' quarrels will show Equestria that you are present and responsive to their concerns. It is a stepping stone to earning their respect and, in due time, their love."

When dark thoughts brewed in Luna's mind, she reminded herself of these words, yet on some occasions they rang hollow. Despite her efforts to become as equally loved and venerated as her older sister, Celestia had a thousand-year head start. After everything she has done, she has the gall to take the moral high ground. And she is not the one with a sore flank from this ridiculous throne. She made up her mind to fashion a cushion for it.

The bailiff, an aged gray unicorn with a pair of scales as his cutie mark, called across the courtroom, "Cherry Ann Jubilee, step forward."

The scarlet-maned earth pony took her place at the bottom of the steps, five feet from Luna's throne, and the bailiff began to read her statements. "Cherry Jubilee, you have brought an accusation before us tonight for her Royal Majesty, Princess Luna, to hear. Would you be so kind as to repeat your charge?"

"Begging your pardon, yer Majesty, ma'am. Ah don't want ta take up much o' yer time," she began, in a strong Dodge Junction accent. Luna's eagle-eyed gaze caught the telltale signs of crying on the pony's face- puffy eyelids, strained and bloodshot eyes. "Ta be honest, Ah don't know where ta start."

"It is quite all right, subject," answered Luna. Make them love you, she reminded herself. She kept her tone gentle and resisted the ingrained urge to unleash her Royal Canterlot Voice. "Please continue."

"So last week- well hay, this was about two weeks back. My family comes from Dodge Junction and as ya probably know, it's not the most civilized o' places. We get a lot o' drifters, migrant workers from Appleloosa an' even Manehatten sometimes. We've seen more than a couple o' griffons too. Ah run a boardin' house an' cherry farm, and two weeks ago, we had an'- an' incident. So ta understand where Ah'm comin' from here, my family owns three cherry orchards, ya see. The south field's full to burstin' these last few days, an'-"

The bailiff interrupted her in his gravelly monotone voice. "You're getting off topic, citizen. Kindly keep your statements to the issue at hand."

Red-faced and stifling a sob, she continued: "Two days ago, my son an' one o' my workers were in the south field, pickin' cherries after sundown, see. An' they found one o' our cows that had wandered into the field. It was- it was- killed. Its head was thrown clear out o' the field and the rest o' it was hung from one o' the cherry trees, an' missin' its pelt too."

The Night Court convened once every week and lasted the entire night or until the cases on its schedule were heard and finalized. There was no strict format for these hearings, because as Celestia pointed out, the Princesses ruled through love. Any pony- from a Canterlot royal to a starving filly on the streets of Manehatten- had the right to an audience with the Princesses and the assurance of justice. Celestia's reign would have failed in its first century if her system did not work.

Tonight, Luna had presided over a case between drunken Canterlot citizens and the owner of a nightclub, which had been trashed by their brawling. She ordered the offending ponies to pay back the owner for the damage, including over two thousand bits' worth of smashed DJ equipment; aside from general ill will, the DJ in question, Vinyl Scratch, was satisfied. The two unicorns and an earth pony involved in the scuffle were less than satisfied. Alcohol only causes misconduct and ruin, she thought, and I will never understand my sister's proclivities for the stuff. Luna had settled back on her throne, expecting to hear several more hours of complaints against liquored-up unicorns and the like, and her mind had wandered off. That is, until this Dodge Junction mare climbed atop the platform and, with many asides, unfolded a deeply unsettling story. The Princess's attention was now solely fixed on her.

"The Pie family's been runnin' that place for seven generations, and we've never lost an animal to unnatural causes. Timberwolves, sure, 'n no shortage o' buffalo herds migrating from Appleloosa n' the lands south o'there, but they've always been civil." She sniffed. "An' last night, most o' the workers were a little unsettled. Three o' them wanted on the first train outta town. It's been a lot colder lately, with gusts of wind that nearly blew six o' my peach trees down too, 'n Ah wanted the harvest in right quick before those cherries plumb froze on the trees. But… but… when the sun went down…"

From somewhere deep inside herself, a chill rose in the Princess.

"When the sun went down, Ah called everypony back to the ranch house. Ah had five ponies out in the fields beside my son, an' by then it was rainin' pretty hard. Cold rain, too. As like to drench the happiness right out o' your chest. Then my son came runnin' out of the trees screamin' something about tentacles after him. He'd never looked that scared a day in 'is life before. Ah know I've taken up too much of your time, Your Majesty, but… Ah don't know what else ta do. Nopony's feelin' like goin' outside after dark and several ponies stayin' at the inn have been complainin' about dreadful nightmares. If ya could find it in your heart ta send some extra guards or an investigation our way, Dodge Junction'd appreciate it somethin' mighty."

Luna mulled over theories as the red-maned mare spoke. A loose Hydra, in the middle of the desert? Timberwolves could not skin and hang a cow from a tree. If not an animal, then it has to be a mentally unstable pony. No outlaw griffon, or band of such griffons, would leave a kill uneaten. It was the reference to tentacles that made her uneasy.

She stared, not unkindly, down at Cherry Pie. The mare sniffled and trembled. "Citizen, I do not command the Royal Guard of Canterlot, yet I am not without my own resources. Ten of my elite Night Guard will be dispatched to Dodge Junction with the orders to guard the town. They are trained fighters from all three races, deadly in hoof-to-hoof combat and fighting magic. Instruct your townspeople to give them food and shelter. If they do not catch the culprit, I will personally see to it. You have my promise."

Cherry Pie glanced up at Darkmane's towering form, then to the Princess again, and she forgot her tears. "Your Majesty, Ah- Ah- Ah don't know what ta say! Ah-" she stammered. The pony tried, without success, to coherently thank Luna, but the alicorn held out her hoof for order.

"It is no trouble, citizen." The tongue-tied mare stepped away from the throne and the Princess felt her lips curl up in a smile. Perhaps Celestia was right. All they want is a Princess that cares for their well-being, and I will do my best to give that to them. The bailiff's staff cracked against the floor. "Next case!"

Three Pegasi from Cloudsdale's weather team approached the throne, followed by a single pink Pegasus with an unfamiliar sigil on her vest. "Rainbowshine, April Showers, and Blueberry Cloud, step forward. In this document, you have accused the weather department of the sovereign city of Vanhoover, represented on this night by Stardancer, of gross and dangerous mishandling of thunderheads which on the eve of Friday last, caused considerable damage to Cloudsdale's Cirrus District. Her Royal Majesty will now hear your statements."

Pegasi are always too brash for their own good, mused Luna. This one is no different. Rainbowshine burst straight into her story, her fuchsia locks bouncing and accusing eyes trained on Stardancer. The other two Pegasi nodded or stamped their hooves when emphasis was needed. "For the last month, our weather teams have been worked to death with this unnatural shift in the jetstream pattern. Normally the stream bends around Canterlot Peak and then southwest, but within the last month it's- shifted. It's now trained on Cloudsdale and the Unicorn Range, and we don't have the ponypower to keep the clouds on track when they keep blowing away."

"For the last time, Rainbowshine, it isn't Vanhoover's fault!"

"Who else could it be?" April Showers shot back. "There's no other weather management departments that far north, except for Manehatten's teams, and they handle a completely different weather system. Where else would these storms be coming from?"

Stardancer's ears flattened. "After the scheduled September rainfall, our squads were worked to their limit. Not to mention that our captain took sick leave and he is the only one with the experience to handle the thunderheads. We've barely enough ponies to keep the scheduled cloud rotations on schedule. We're already ten inches short on rainfall-"

"Then why are unauthorized thunderheads suddenly appearing out of nowhere in Cloudsdale? Explain that."

"I told you that we're not responsible!" said Stardancer hotly. Her ears were now pinned flat and she pounded the carpet with her forehooves. "We don't know why the stream changed direction. Maybe it has something to do with whatever's going on up North? We've had scouts reporting strange lights and weather beyond the Crystal Mountains. But it's none of our business when we have our own territory to handle."

"Then explain that to the filly that got electrocuted by one of your storm clouds!" put in Blueberry, much louder than necessary.

"Order!" bellowed Luna, as the red-faced Vanhoover pony snorted and spread her wings to launch an attack on the nearest Pegasus. "No fighting will be tolerated or my guard will escort you out. Now: without pointing hooves at each other, did any pony of you actually notice which direction the clouds followed?"

Rainbowshine cleared her throat bashfully. "I was on thunderhead patrol two nights ago when it happened. Our leader had us flying at high altitude to clear up some excess rainfall. Come to think of it, I don't remember a storm scheduled for that day either. Then Blueberry called out the position of that cloud. Nopony saw where it came from, but by then it was too late. The wind was blowing in all directions, rain in our faces and half of our team couldn't hold position. The lightning got too close to the north part of the city and- and it caught that apartment complex. It took all of our team and half of the reserves to wrestle it clear of the city, because one that big is dangerous to move. The fire was spreading… once the second strike hit the hospital, we could hear the screams."

"If the cloud cannot be traced to the Vanhoover office, you have no right to accuse them of this wrongdoing," said Luna.

"But Princess," the mare continued. "Somepony had to let that thunderhead loose. If it blew in and around from the south, then it was either from the Everfree Forest or somepony in the Ponyville office has their head up their flank. It doesn't make any sense."

Blueberry interrupted her. "Wouldn't that make it Rainbow Dash's problem? She's head of the weather ponies in Ponyville. But Ponyville never lets that kind of bad management happen. Remember, she was the one that made that latest water transfer. A textbook maneuver if you ask me."

"If you wish to accuse Rainbow Dash, and by extension the Ponyville weather station, we may summon her to the Court at her earliest convenience. Until then, without more concrete evidence, the claim against Vanhoover is without merit. I am deeply sorry for Cloudsdale's loss and reparations will be made, but I am afraid this matter is concluded for the time being."

"I'm not sure who to accuse," sulked Rainbowshine. "All I know is that a filly died, several ponies are hurt, and it isn't our fault."

The bailiff's staff began to descend when April Showers added, almost in an undertone, "Maybe it was from the Everfree Forest. I don't like the clouds over that place anymore. It's like they're angry at ponies that get too close."

---

Canterlot, much like the other larger Equestrian cities, was a place that only truly came alive at night. The Palace District's lights shone eternally and it was under the unceasing watch of the Royal Guard; its gleaming towers and streets were what most visitors to the city wanted to see. The Princesses' abode was nevertheless only one small segment of a vibrant and growing metropolis.

A vertical city perched on a magically reinforced cliff face will only have room for so much outward expansion. In the first centuries of Celestia's reign, when the initial walled city reached its economic and population limit, the physical and spiritual center of Equestria began to expand in the only direction open to it, which was into the mountain's superstructure. The true architectural genius of the city was not its visible edifice but the invisible maze of concentric regions hollowed into the peak's interior. Lower Canterlot contained ten levels, each one slightly wider than the one atop it, and each supported with massive columns hewn from the crystalline bones of the mountain. The Celestial Gates separated the two halves of the city and beyond the gates was a circular shaft which dropped over one thousand feet to the lowest level. Vertical access was by wingpower, for ponies so endowed, and via clanking metal lifts for the rest.

Here was the unseen beating heart of the city and one that never truly slept. A place that rivaled the beaches of Los Pegasus for its effervescent nightlife. A twenty four-seven hub of light and life and music. Never had a gigantic cave known such brilliance, and as a structural marvel it had no equal- not even the Great Eyrie of the griffon lands.

Without the Princesses and the Royal Guard's presence, Lower Canterlot (or the Undercity to more prejudiced ponies) may well have become a cesspool of vagrants and darkness and corruption. But such a city was Canterlot that crime and poverty were nearly unheard of. The lower levels benefited from frequent patrols and a surplus of housing for less fortunate ponies, as well as job opportunities; nevertheless, it was in these darker reaches where a culture of nightclubs and gaming and intoxication had taken hold, and a ready source of court cases when drunken ponies became too rowdy.

Outside the Palace, the streets were filled as Canterlot's nightlife began; street vendors held newspapers out to passing ponies, emblazoned with the headline CLOUDSDALE TRAGEDY, and a throng of upper crust and worker ponies alike pushed through the Celestial Gates in search of an experience only the lower levels could offer.

The case against Vanhoover's weather team was the last on Princess Luna's docket. She sat restlessly through the concluding procedures and as the ponies filtered out of the throne room, she instructed the bailiff to prepare a summons to one Rainbow Dash of Ponyville, with orders to report to the courtroom post-haste.

In calamity's wake, we always find somepony else to blame and do not deal with the problem ourselves.

Luna unfurled her wings and took a running leap from the outside patio. Eight hours on that throne had made her ache for the feeling of wind beneath her feathers and starlight in her mane. As her night waned and her resting hours approached, she was in the habit of taking short flights among Canterlot's spires and sometimes into the depths of the Undercity itself.

Tonight, however, called for a longer journey. She pummeled the air with her powerful wings. An exceptional Pegasus such as Rainbow Dash might have had an edge in speed, but could never match an alicorn for endurance and sheer power. Luna's wings could carry her to the edge of the Crystal Mountains and all the way south to Horseshoe Bay without any fatigue. My sister can keep her teleportation spells. This is the true way to travel, with a cool breeze in my mane and the land thousands of feet below my hooves. She blasted upward until the clouds were dark patches far below her and Canterlot's lights were mere dots on the mountainside.

She closed her eyes and let the wind carry her where it would. Perhaps her mind was on the Everfree Forest, as it had been mentioned in two cases of the Night Court, because when she opened them again she had lost a slight bit of altitude and now hovered above the Unicorn Range. Ponyville was a patchwork quilt of fields and twinkling lights; the surrounding Everfree Forest was a roiling, hidden sea of trees and dark clouds. An open flame wreathed in darkness. It seemed to Luna that the black embrace of the thunderheads was slowly creeping in on the valley, crushing the remaining light in its grasp and fighting the approach of dawn.

At her great height, she could feel the curvature of the world and the rarified air. Her stars felt close enough to touch. A fine film of frost clung to her mane and the tips of her flight feathers. Her shudder came not from the temperatures- as Princess of the Night, she felt no cold- but from the sight of the forest. Can it be a coincidence? Last week I saw unfamiliar shadows among the trees when I flew over Ponyville, and now I hear of tentacles and rogue thunderheads that may trace back to this place. Perhaps my sister knows more.

Dawn was close. Luna hovered for a few more minutes before descending toward Canterlot at the limits of subsonic flight, landing on a certain marble balcony where the ruler of all Equestria silently stood. It was their custom to meet atop Celestia's tower before the mantle of the heavens changed hooves. Since they now ruled together- if only in spirit, thought Luna- they shared concerns and advice during these private meetings.

The elder alicorn was meditating, eyes closed with the effort of summoning the magic needed to raise the sun. Her horn and milk-white coat shimmered with golden power.

"Good morning, Sister."

Celestia turned to face her. "You have blessed us with another beautiful night, dearest. How went the Night Court?"

"Trying. Have you heard of the events in Cloudsdale? And Dodge Junction, south of the forest, is haunted by tentacles and strange occurrences."

"Truly?"

"The Pegasi are restless; they believe the storm came from Ponyville or- elsewhere. A rogue thunderhead."

Now Celestia paused her magic to look into Luna's eyes. It was a mark of their shared connection as sisters that their gaze could communicate just as well as a sentence, if not more so. She guessed that the smaller alicorn avoided speaking the name of the forest that, since Twilight Sparkle's visit, had also lurked at the borders of her mind. Celestia touched her gilded hoof to her sister's silver-shod one. "Morning comes soon, dear sister, but we have a little time to ourselves. Tell me what is troubling you."

"You know my fears, Sister. You were at my side when the darkness took me. Please do not ask me to speak of them again."

"Twelve hundred years ago, we defeated that mysterious monster with the Elements of Harmony, even though our castle and hundreds of alicorns were lost. Two months later we turned them on its master, Discord himself. Your fears of the darkness are unfounded."

"I do not fear the darkness!" said Luna angrily, lapsing into her royal tone. "I fear what turned me to darkness! In case you have forgotten, we no longer wield the Elements and our fate rests in the hooves of mere mortal ponies!"

Perhaps it was the stress of the Court, or her long-held thoughts about the rule of Equestria coming to light, or Celestia's patronizing tone: whatever the cause, Luna suddenly found herself shouting at her sister. She does not understand how it felt to be lost in such malice. To be bound to hatred and gloom with no escape. I saw it in that Dodge Junction pony's eyes. She was afraid of what she does not know, and she is safer not knowing.

She regretted raising her voice, though. A shouting match between the Princesses, using their Royal Canterlot Voices, would be heard through the entire city.

The damage was already done. For the first time Celestia sounded upset and to Luna, oddly possessive. "This matter is not up for debate. You well know that we are not worthy to hold the Elements. They belong in the hooves of ordinary ponies whose love and friendship keeps them from becoming instruments of war, as we tried to do. We shall watch over the Everfree Forest closely, and if your fears are true, Twilight Sparkle and her friends will take action. We will be there to support and guide them. Have you no faith in the ponies who freed you from Nightmare Moon, who defeated Discord and stopped Queen Chrysalis as well?"

"It is not a matter of faith. Twilight showed me great kindness; her abilities rival a unicorn thrice her age, yet she is still a child and cannot possibly understand the true magic of the Elements. You and I are now nothing but bureaucrats and figureheads. We sit on thrones and sort through paperwork while the Element bearers fight our battles. Would you have her take our place on the throne?"

"Enough. Twilight's integrity is not in question and it is precisely her innocence that is her greatest strength. We will discuss this matter later when our minds are clear."

Luna noticed the nearly invisible blush on her sister's cheeks.

Magic surged through the Princess of the Day's horn and blasted skyward. Seething at this abrupt dismissal, Luna turned away and spread her wings to fly back to her own tower. "What happens if Twilight Sparkle and her friends fail?"

My sister cares for Twilight very much, thought Luna as she took to the skies. Perhaps too much.

CHAPTER EIGHT: OF FRIENDS AND ENEMIES p1

October 10

The common barnyard rooster has one job. Well, technically two: to impregnate hens, and to announce dawn's arrival. He performs his job well and often. An urban myth holds that such a bird only crows in the morning. This is false, because he lets loose his strident crow at daybreak and at subsequent five-minute intervals until he goes to sleep at night. The tones of a rooster are extraordinarily similar to a screaming human and no less dreadful to the ears, particularly if they are heard from point-blank range and from a very deep sleep.

It was such a sound that pulled Bryn from his dreams, dreams of shifting vines and slithering tentacles and horse-headed serpents. Dreams that, in the light of day, were silly. Nevertheless, he was drenched in sweat and his heartbeat thundered against his eardrums like the footsteps of an advancing army.

A nightmare has the curious effect of blurring the reality between sleeping and waking. There is a five- or ten-second period in which the night's terrors are superimposed onto your waking awareness and, in that short moment, your fears are made solid. They exist just long enough to turn your bedroom's shadows into monsters and then, like smoke, they disappear. The only difference between a dream and a nightmare is, therefore, the fear. Fear is why we remember one horrible dream over fifty enjoyable ones. Fear is why we would rather not sleep alone, because without the comforting reality of another person at your side, the torture of these moments belongs wholly to you.

In the fifteen seconds after his eyes opened, Bryn was alone in his private horror. The shed in which he lay was not a sanctuary but a cold dank bog, where unmentionable things crept over his skin and touched him- so gently- with antennae. Each one was like the brush of a feather or a raindrop. Each ice-cold raindrop met his bare chest with the tiniest puff of smoke.

Then, as the feather-soft touches steadily became more painful, came the fangs. When he screamed in agony from a million bleeding wounds and begged for it to stop… the tentacles appeared. They held no mercy. Flames licked at the ground, turning the trees to ash but leaving the boneless limbs untouched. And the thing that they belonged to? Its hulking black shape towered above him, whispering in an alien tongue to just give up… give in…

Its multitude of hideous eyes burned into his skull.

"NOOOOO!" he roared, and woke up.

The monster's awful bone-chilling shriek was only the crow of a rooster. Or, he thought as his heart raced and clammy sweat dripped from his brow, there was no rooster and it was me screaming.

A ray of light streamed through a chink in the thatched roof and into his eyes. Now this, this single luminous beam, was real. It was real and warming and wholesome and this simple assurance was enough for him to know that he was, indeed, awake and safe beneath the solid wooden rafters. Bit by bit, he relegated the nightmare to its proper place.

With consciousness came remembrance; he took deep breaths and recalled the previous night. Ribs bruised from the fight, clothing torn and bloodied, and stomach cramping up with hunger- not to mention his violent shivers- he had fled to the forest and huddled beside the stream only long enough to wash his face and soothe his thirst. By then it was pitch-black under the canopy of trees and simply finding solid footing was a difficult task. Following the fading twinkle of the town's streetlamps, Bryn emerged from the trees long after the crowd of ponies had dispersed. A half-moon hung heavily over silent cobblestone streets. No angry equines were present.

"There has to be a barn or a shed somewhere that I can hide in, for the night," he muttered to himself. "No one will notice me." As it turned out, not far from the creek was a low, dilapidated shack fenced on two sides by shrubbery. The hedges terminated at either side and this natural fence used the shed's south wall as part of the border. Quietly as a cat, he sprang over the hedge and lifted the simple wooden latch on its door. It was exactly what he thought it was: a storage shed, with shelves on one wall and a large pile of hay in the corner. Stacked against the far wall were hefty sacks of what he assumed were oats. Makes sense. Horses eat oats, and some talking horse no doubt owns this place.

Such was his adrenaline- and hunger-fueled fog that he completely overlooked his location. He had stayed close to the stream and came out exactly at the same spot as he had before, but he neglected to notice the familiar hedge and the violet circus tent beyond. Perhaps it was the misty darkness of the night; the moon cast little light on the town and the lamps were darkened. Regardless, Bryn had unwittingly chosen the outbuilding belonging to the white unicorn that lived in said violet circus tent. Its owner was tossing and turning in her silken sheets at that very moment, bothered by nightmares very much like Bryn's.

The hut seemed safe enough, and the hay was warm and supportive. No place is truly safe around here if there are things like that loose in the forests. What was that thing last night, anyway? And what was that dream about?

The rooster crowed again at earsplitting volume. Thinking he was under attack by another enraged pony or worse, he awoke and rocketed to his feet, forgetting the fact that the shed was built for the stature of a miniature horse and not a human. He nearly reached his full height when his head hit the rafters.

The beam above was solid well-seasoned pine, wood that had seen many winters yet was very much structurally sound; when his head collided painfully with it, it made a spectacular crashing sound and dislodged a choking mixture of dust, cobwebs, wood splinters, and wisps of hay into his face.

"FUCK!"

Between his shout and the ringing crash of the rafter, he had made far more noise than was sensible. "You're going for incognito, you idiot," he growled. He rose with many mumbled oaths, pulling a sliver of wood from his forehead, and found himself face to face with another unicorn whose head, shoulders and forehooves poked through the doorway. Her mouth (for it was undoubtedly another female, because it possessed the same alabaster coat as the other pony and its mane was a pastel-colored mess of curls) opened in a soundless gasp.

Two seconds later, she screamed. Bryn closed the distance with one leap and covered her muzzle with his hand.

"Shhhh!" he hissed. "I'm not trying to hurt you! Please don't scream!"

The pony squeaked and spluttered, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, and he realized that she was much smaller than the others he had seen. It was like holding a hound of very compact build. She was no harder to restrain than- than my sister when we used to play together, he realized with a pang of sadness. They're about the same size. Her white hooves dug into the straw for several seconds until she understood that Bryn was not harming her in any way.

"What are you? What are you doing in my sister's shed?" she asked, in a shrill voice.

She sounds like she's ten years old. And what do I tell her that makes sense or doesn't scare her further? If she screams again, she'll bring company and I'll have to fight my way out of it.

He was, quite literally, walking on eggshells. Subtlety wasn't Bryn's style. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I'm lost and hungry and needed a place to sleep for the night." The response was the last thing he expected.

"Well yeah, but- what are you? You don't look anything like a pony."

"I'm a human."

As if he was a schoolmaster and she an inquisitive student, the young pony's eyes widened and her ears pricked straight up. She seemed to forget all about the mysterious stranger holding her. "What's a human? Is it some kind of snake? You're obviously not a pony and you don't have hooves or fur, so you have to be a snake."

"A human is- well- someone from Earth," he finished lamely. "And I'm not a snake, I'm a mammal like you. Just with no hooves."

Never mind that she probably doesn't know what a mammal is, he thought. He was right. "Is a mammal a kind of camel? Because you don't look like a camel either." Her emerald eyes glanced up and down his body, as wide as saucers, and as if the morning could not possibly get any weirder, she beamed up at him. "A human," she repeated, liking the sound of the word. "I'm a pony and my name's Sweetie Belle. What's yours?"

Bryn couldn't remember releasing her, or sitting down on the floor so that he was eye level with this mysterious creature. "My name is Bryn. Bryn Hansen." He recalled his manners and held out his hand, intending to shake hers, and gasped when she extended her foreleg and placed it in his palm. Her coat was soft and warm to the touch but he could feel the strong strap-like muscles beneath.

I'm shaking hands with a horse. Saying it in his mind did not make the concept any less strange. What was weirder: that a human and a pony were shaking hands (hooves?) for possibly the first time in history, or that a pony in a completely different world than his own would even know what a handshake was? He was impressed by the hidden power of her legs; even the children of this world were strong, and the adults, as demonstrated last night, were deadly combatants. Only surprise had allowed him to overpower this pony. A filly… That's the right name for a baby horse, I think. And the grown ones would be mares.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Sweetie Belle."

He was rewarded by a wide smile. "This is so exciting! I've never met a human before!" she exclaimed.

"Do you mean there are no humans at all here?"

"This is Ponyville. In Equestria. I don't think it has humans, but I've never been outside Equestria before."

Ponyville? Equestria? Is this entire world full of talking horses? He swallowed his misgivings. Here was the only pony that had received him cordially and he didn't want to antagonize her with too many questions. She continued, "You look really weird. I think you're pretty cool though and I can't wait to introduce you to Scootaloo and Apple Bloom!" Her face lit up at this prospect and a tiny white spark erupted from her horn.

"I don't know about that," murmured Bryn. "Believe it or not, I was only hiding here until the morning. The town tried to run me off last night and-"

"I bet if you talk to my sister Rarity, she'll straighten that out. No one messes with my big sister. Everypony loves her and besides, she has an Element of Harmony!"

A thought suddenly came to him. "Is Rarity a unicorn too? A white unicorn with purple hair?"

"Yeah! How'd you know? Did you meet her already?"

"Ummm… well, not really. Last night, when I came out of the forest, she- screamed. One of her friends tried to capture me and we got in a fight."

"Oh." Her smile fell by several degrees. "Well maybe they were just scared. I guess I was too. If we explain, maybe they won't be scared anymore." With childish enthusiasm, she leapt to her hooves and wrapped a slender foreleg around his arm, then began to pull with surprising force. "Come on! My sister's probably up by now. She asked me to feed Opal and water the garden. Ughhh… I hate watering."

"Sweetie Belle-"

Sweetie Belle would have none of it. "I can't wait for her to meet you!" So Bryn was led out of the shed, to the door of the circus tent.

Outside the shed was the sort of bone-chilling morning that all the warm clothes in the world are no defense against. The sun barely peeked over the eastern horizon and the bones of the earth exhaled a thin fog that clung low against the ground, swirling around his legs as he crossed the garden. Interestingly, it appeared to be winter in this world as well as his own, or at least close to it. He took a deep breath and, although his lungs recoiled from the frigid air, there was a clean and vibrant freshness to it that Earth air just didn't seem to have.

He was suddenly conscious of his appearance. Due to his torn and muddy clothes, a growing lump on his forehead along with the dozens of other bruises, pieces of hay lodged in his hair, and the T-shirt ruined by bloodstained holes, he was a horrific sight. "I bet she's in the kitchen," said Sweetie.

Would a horse's kitchen contain a tidy manger of hay? Watering trough and bucket filled with oats or corn? Imagine his surprise when he found himself in something not out of place in an upscale modern American house. Rarity's kitchen was a masterpiece of gleaming and compact efficiency. The stone countertops were at the perfect height for a pony (or an extremely short human), decorated with a range of appliances familiar to Bryn. He noticed the standard toaster, mixer, and what looked like a juicer, yet oddly enough, there appeared to be no electrical power anywhere. A steaming stack of toast already sat on the counter, where he assumed Sweetie Belle had left it, and it was the work of someone new to the experience of toast-making in the morning. Half of the pieces were burnt beyond all hope.

"Rarity!" called Sweetie Belle. "I watered the garden like you asked me to and look what I found in the shed!"

Before he could blink, the violet-maned unicorn he had seen last night in the garden appeared at the top of the stairwell.

"Sweetie Belle, what have I told you about trying to make breakfast- Oh!" For she caught sight of Bryn and gasped shrilly. Her sleepy face showed genuine shock tempered by recognition; no doubt she had not expected to see him again so soon. Certainly not in her spotlessly clean kitchen. Rarity erupted in a series of gasps and exclamations and whimpers, directed at his ragged and dirty appearance and the fact that her younger sister had, once again, did a poor job of cooking.

"And I made breakfast too!" Sweetie Belle held up the pitiful stack of toast and an accompanying glass of gray sludge.

Rarity made her way down the stairs, looking very much like a pony who needed about five more hours of sleep before facing her day. Her mane was a frizzy mess about her shoulders. She stopped in front of her younger sister and eyed the glass with weary disdain. "You burned the juice again?"

"Umm… well it's not my fault that I can't work the juicer right! It might have slightly caught on fire. Just a little bit."

With a haughty shrug she replied, "I'll just have to start over." She went to several cupboards and peered inside. Acting as if Bryn was not even there, Rarity powered up her horn and began to levitate various ingredients from the shelves. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Pancakes!" exclaimed the filly. "Bryn can have some too!"

At the mention of the name, Rarity jumped and suddenly noticed that he was still standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"I found him in our shed," Sweetie Belle continued, "and he said that he was just tired and hungry and needed a place to stay. He didn't hurt me. He's a human and he's lost. Can he stay with us? Please? Please?"

Bryn thought it best to interrupt. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I don't know how I got here or why, but I didn't mean to scare anyone. I tried to explain to your friend- the blue one."

"You mean anypony. One should always use proper grammar." Caught between fatigue and annoyance and shock, Rarity could only gasp and groan. "And Rainbow Dash is headstrong; you can't blame her for attacking you. What exactly are you? Why do you look so- so horrid? You'll get my entire kitchen dirty!"

"Oh, and I forgot to tell you sis," put in Sweetie Belle. "Rainbow Dash left early this morning. Said there was an emergency at the weather station. Something about thunder." She nodded as if proud of her ability to recall and deliver this information.

When girls are upset, the only thing to do is apologize like crazy. Bryn began, "I know I look horrible right now, and I'm sorry. I only stayed in your shed because there was nowhere else to go. If you want, I'll leave, but would it be too much to ask for something quick to eat?"

Something strange was happening to Rarity at this moment. Here was the strangest individual she had ever seen, and a little terrifying to look at. There was a sense of hidden strength and determination about him. Standing at his side was her nine-year-old filly sister who, despite his outlandish appearance, seemed to trust him completely. Was Rainbow Dash just being overly hostile? Could he be telling the truth? Could this mysterious thing be what he says he is? She had a soft spot in her heart for helpless and broken things. After all, that soft spot was why Opal called Carousel Boutique home. If Rarity couldn't refuse a home to a poor homeless cat, she could hardly refuse Bryn.

As Bryn pleaded for mercy and a meal, Rarity's sapphire eyes met Bryn's deep green ones and she found honesty and desperation there. Well… I guess it can't hurt to give him some food. I did promise to offer him friendship. If Sweetie Belle trusts him, then I suppose I can be generous and give him a chance.

However, Rarity being Rarity, her first impulse was definitely not to feed the hungry human in her kitchen.

"How on earth did you become so- so dirty? The first thing you need is a bath and clean clothes, and not these horrid old things. Hay in one's mane! The worst possible thing!" Bryn was again hoof-dragged up the stairs and into a room stuffily furnished with wooden furniture and way too many flower arrangements. A four-poster bed, hung with white curtains, was in one corner.

"My spare bedroom," said Rarity matter-of-factly. "There's a tub behind that curtain. You must let me take those hideous clothes and get you something more fashionable. I'll set some things for you on the bed and you can come down to breakfast when you're done."

She left him standing open-mouthed in the center of the room. Not for the first time that day, he wondered if this was secretly a world record-setting acid trip that he had somehow stumbled into.

Maybe if he pinched his arm hard enough, he would wake up. Worth a try.

Several pinches failed to do the trick and left him with sore forearms, and resignedly he slipped out of his clothes. He stacked them in a pile beside the bathtub. "I'm on drugs," he told himself. "I'm on the worst drugs possible." The past two days, from meeting Caitlin to everything leading up to this exact moment, had felt like a terrible art house movie with someone else playing the starring role of Bryn Hansen. "Man Dies and is Reawakened in a world of Ponies" would be the working title.

Nothing felt right to him anymore. Standing there, in Rarity's frilly spare room, he took a deep breath and told himself the same thing that he had in that abandoned clearing. I'm still alive. No matter what, he had his life and his health and, most importantly, his powers. Everything else was trivial. Luck had given him an ally, in the form of a curious young unicorn, and if his luck held, things might not be as grim as they looked. His violet-haired host seemed friendly enough. And there was something about her that tugged at his memory; she reminded him of someone he had once known. He just couldn't put his finger on it yet.

Rarity's bathtub was simple and functional, done in porcelain and gleaming brass plumbing, and her touch was seen in the small details. She (or perhaps the pony who installed the tub) had mounted a golden seashell-shaped soap dish below the faucet and it held three bath soaps in perfect diamond shapes. Bryn stepped into the shower, closing the curtain that was patterned with gemstones and wildflowers, and let out a groan when he discovered that the soap and shampoo released, respectively, very girly scents of strawberry and lavender.

Not only do I have to eat breakfast with talking horses, I have to smell like a girl too.

"When in Equestria…" Sometime while he was washing the grime of the past two days down the drain, Rarity had slipped into the room and laid a white silken cape on the table. It was more hospital gown than fitted bathrobe, but it did the job, and was remarkably soft. The gown was, in fact, the first time Bryn had even touched silk.

He came down the stairs to find the two ponies putting the finishing touches on a pancake breakfast. "I try to cook breakfast, and it's never good enough for you!" Sweetie Belle complained.

Rarity pulled her into a tight embrace. "Keep trying and one day you won't burn everything to a crisp. I love you, little sister, even if you're the most terrible cook in all of Equestria. I love you so much." She nuzzled Sweetie's mane and any hard feelings were soon washed away in giggles and embarrassed blushing.

Just then, Bryn appeared in the kitchen and Rarity gave a ladylike gasp of surprise. "Oh- so you found the gown. I do hope it fit all right; I didn't have anything in your size so I had to improvise. Hmm…"

The robe, in fact, left more uncovered than he liked. Rarity's eyes lingered on his bare arms and where the robe fell deep enough to expose the contour of his chest. With a slight stammer she continued, "If- if- if you let me measure you, I can make you a proper ensemble. Much better than those ugly old things."

"Well- that's really nice of you, but you don't have to."

"Nonsense, darling. One's clothes should always reflect their inner selves and, of course, be fashionable as well."

"Even if you're not wearing any?" said Bryn baldly.

Sweetie Belle, to her credit, choked back laughter as Rarity's bone-white cheeks began to redden. "What I meant was, it would be my pleasure to give you a makeover and a meal in exchange for explaining who you are and how you came to be in my shed."

The heap of syrup-drenched pancakes was casting out an inviting aroma. He agreed, and soon one human and two ponies were wolfing down on a delicious breakfast. At least he and Sweetie Belle were; the filly held a fork and knife in her hooves and knocked back cake after cake, while Rarity used her magic to precisely cut and transfer each piece into her mouth. Bryn stopped munching long enough to watch the elder unicorn's magic at work. Much like Rarity herself, there was something teasingly familiar about the azure aura around her horn. It rippled like an asphalt road under scorching August heat. The effect was relaxing and entrancing.

She sipped at a glass of non-burned orange juice. "I don't mean to sound inquisitive, but how exactly did- well, someone like you- get to be in Equestria?"

As he opened his mouth to answer, everything came rushing back to him in a flood of emotion. I'm not sure I can talk about Caitlin yet. He swallowed and began, "I guess the easiest way to say it would be… I died. Instead of being dead, something brought me back to life and dumped me in the forest south of town. In your world." He remained silent about the forest itself. This cheerful kitchen was no place to talk of monsters and shadows.

He may as well have been discussing nuclear fusion for all the sense it made; Rarity, nonplussed, cleared her throat. "So you're from another world?"

"I know it sounds strange."

A pancake, controlled by her magic, missed her muzzle and hung stickily from her cheek instead. To cover her embarrassment she said, with perhaps too much pride, "You're remarkably well spoken for an alien creature."

Bryn declined to mention the events of the high school or, for that matter, the fact that he was or ever had been a high schooler. There was no need to give away too much information. "I've been to school," he stated, "and believe me, I'd much rather be back in my own world, but I seem to be stuck here for the moment."

"Maybe when I die, I'll wake up in your world!" piped up Sweetie Belle, her speech thick from a mouthful of pancakes.

"You wouldn't like it there. In my world, horses do work for humans. They live on farms and wear collars and we ride them in rodeos." He gave the filly the tiniest of winks.

Rarity's subsequent gasp was the worst he had yet heard. "How beastly! A self-respecting pony would never stoop to such barbarism!"

Sweetie Belle giggled.

He sensed that it was time for the hard sell. With a bellyful of hot breakfast and that ridiculous robe wrapped around his shoulders, he said, "It was really nice of you to invite me in and give me something to eat. After last night I didn't expect anything like this. This is amazing."

"One must always be generous to guests," answered Rarity sagely. "Hospitality and friendship have been virtues of ponykind from the founding of Equestria until today. It would be unthinkable to turn away those in need, because you never know when you will be the one in need of a helping hoof." Just as he hoped, she had taken his bait.

"Would it be way too much to ask if- if I could stay here, just for a little while, until I figure out what to do and where to go in this world? I promise I wouldn't be a burden. I could do whatever you wanted me to do, to make up for it."

Like clockwork, Sweetie Belle exclaimed, "I told you he wanted to stay! Can he stay with us? Please? Please?" She pasted the most ridiculous puppy-dog expression onto her face and Rarity was defenseless against it.

"I've been looking for somepony to help with the maintenance of the house and the garden, and since a certain pony is no help at all" – she glanced at Sweetie Belle- "maybe you could work for me in exchange for food and a place to stay. You could even have the spare bedroom because it's never been lived in."

"YAY!" Sweetie Belle jumped in circles around the table. As the filly bounded and whooped, Rarity's eyes again found Bryn's. There were the beginnings of a smile on her muzzle but within those cerulean eyes was much more: gratitude and curiosity and compassion all tied up in a bow and given to him. Somehow the terror of the day before and the night was floating away, replaced by a sense of happy possibilities, and the kindness that Rarity had shown him so far was like an oasis amidst parching desert sands. Human and unicorn gazed at each other and watched a grin slowly grow on each other's faces.

---

"You absolutely must meet my best friends," said Rarity some time later. "I'm sure they would love to meet Equestria's first human."

The pair stood in Rarity's kitchen and tidied up the last of breakfast, Bryn washing and rinsing each dish while Rarity dried them and levitated them into the cupboard with her magic. Sweetie Belle had already raced off to what she referred to as a 'top-secret meeting' with her friends Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. "Ten bits she comes back covered in tree sap again," Rarity remarked. "And still having no cutie mark."

"Cutie mark?" wondered Bryn.

"A cutie mark is… is simply a representation of the thing a pony is meant to do with his or her life. It's what makes you special and unique. You noticed mine, darling, didn't you?" She did a graceful spin for him and he could indeed see the three cyan gemstones, like a photorealistic tattoo on her flank.

Rarity's lithe motions attracted his attention more than the diamonds did, though, and he missed the first part of her sentence. "…and you earn your cutie mark when you figure out what you're put in this world to do. For me, it was fashion design and dressmaking. Who knows, maybe humans can earn one too."

The word was still unfamiliar in her throat. She pronounced it yoo-man.

"There's so much different about this world," he replied. "Talking ponies, for one. I'm still getting used to it. It feels like the weirdest dream I've ever had."

She beamed at him. "Really, dear, if you think one talking pony is a strange thing, just wait until you meet Pinkie Pie."

"I hope your friends don't all act like that one pony did last night. Trust me; I never wanted to fight her, I just didn't get a chance to explain myself. Story of my life… people fighting me because I did something or didn't do something or because I look or act different. I'm tired of it."

"My father is a hoofball coach in lower Manehatten and he taught me how to defend myself in a ladylike way." She rose on her hind legs, now standing as tall as Bryn, and her forehooves became a whirling dance of punches almost too fast to see. "A lady never stoops to brawling unless her life is on the line, however. Ugh! I can't abidefights. So- uncouth."

Bryn laughed. "I wouldn't want to fight you then. You'd win, no contest."

The unicorn gave him an appraising glance. She appeared to be on the verge of saying something but instead perked up her ears and shrieked, "I nearly forgot! Today is the perfect day to meet my friends because we're having a lunch date at Sugarcube Corner. They'll all be very pleased to meet you!"

"I can't meet them in this robe… do you have my old clothes that I can change into?"

"Oh heavens no, dear. You can't be seen in those hideous bloodstained rags! You need a makeover and I am happy to provide one."

Before he could utter one word, Rarity ushered him out of the kitchen and into what appeared to be her workroom. Controlled chaos was the thought that came to mind. Every inch of floor space not occupied by pony mannequins or furniture was covered in a mess of fabric rolls and sketches and half-completed designs. At the center of the room, perched on a wooden figurine, was an outrageously flamboyant white dress done in lace and icy gemstones.

"That one is for the anniversary party of one of Canterlot's foremost personalities, Fancy Pants. It's a surprise for his wife." She crossed to a nearby table and brushed aside spools of thread, ignoring Bryn's dumbfounded expression, and spread out a blank sheet of paper. "So what do you want your new outfit to look like, darling?"

"Ummm…" He looked hopelessly at the dress. "You won't put jewels on it, right?"

Rarity laughed musically and said, "It can become whatever you want it to be. For you, I see something simple and black, perhaps dark brown, with green accents to match your eyes. Something lightweight and snug-fitting with drape in the rear, perhaps a sort of cape or jacket as well." She quickly sketched a prototype. "Only a rough concept, of course. I feel like this part needs more color."

Slowly, with a little input from Bryn, a fully colored and detailed drawing materialized onto the page.

And it looked good. At least it wasn't a glittery dress.

The drawing was of a gray cotton tunic with long, tight sleeves and a flowing back. To him, it looked like the back of a trenchcoat had been somehow grafted onto a military uniform. The differences between the two were small but noticeable; to start with, its lines were far more fluid than a soldier's fatigues and Rarity had penciled small sections of dark green into its lining and trim. "Difficult color, green… with your eyes, though, you should wear it very well," she declared. "And now to take your measurements. Hold still, if you would?"

Her magic pulled a tape measure from the desk and, like a hovering snake, it coiled around and around his body. Rarity muttered and wrote down numbers on a clipboard. "Interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"Hmm… I suppose humans are, proportionally, similar to ponies. Four legs, except for the longer torso, of course. This should be a cinch to make. Be a dear and take this out back to the trash? I'll get started on this right away. Ooh, it will be absolutely divine when it's done!"

She floated a bulging garbage can to him; he carried the stale-smelling thing to the metal drum next to the back door. When he returned to Rarity's inspiration room, his jaw nearly hit the floor at what he saw.

The fashionista was at the center of a tiny galaxy made up of spools of thread, fabric pieces, scissors, and heated irons. When she needed a particular item or assembly, it would float from 'orbit' around her head onto the table, then take its place among the detritus when she was done. Rarity was here and there and everywhere. She kept up a stream of whispered dialogue while controlling two needles and a pair of scissors- not to mention holding up no less than fifty items with her magic! It was a marvel of multitasking, a one-pony assembly line. To call it an assembly line, however, would be an insult to the artistry of it all. This was an enclave and within was a master at work. Bryn stood dumbfounded, garbage can hanging at his side, as his new outfit materialized before his eyes.

"All done!" exclaimed Rarity, after a solid hour of stitching and stretching and ironing. "If I do say so myself, it turned out wonderfully. Care to try it on?"

CHAPTER NINE: OF FRIENDS AND ENEMIES p2

October 10

Rarity and Bryn left the Boutique shortly afterward. It was actually an hour later, when Rarity had tried on six different dresses and found the proper hat among her dozens and dozens of hats, that she announced herself ready. She wore a slinky cyan dress with white feathers and a wide-brimmed floppy hat perched jauntily atop her curls. "Lovely," she finally exclaimed. "Not too formal or casual, just right. And you do look dashing if I say so myself."

"Then why is everyone staring at me?" said Bryn. Staring was perhaps too weak of a word; not only were ponies staring at him as the pair strolled down one of Ponyville's main thoroughfares, they were gasping and pointing hooves and, in some cases, diving behind nearby barrels, hay bales or other convenient objects. A yellow pony let out a shriek and herded her two fillies into their house.

"Nopony has ever seen a human before," Rarity said. "Let alone such a fabulously dressed one. You have to expect some… confusion."

He tugged at the chestpiece of his new tunic. It fit as well as a familiar pair of jeans, although quite snug across his torso and legs, and made him stand a little straighter than he was accustomed to. The sleeves were also tight but not enough to restrict his arms. Its foremost feature, though, was the rippling cape fastened at his waist. When standing still, it fell around his legs like a trenchcoat; in motion it became a weightless black mantle behind him, and the whole ensemble brought to mind an assassin's cloak done in muted camouflage colors.

All she had to do was make this thing blue and red and I'd look like some reject Power Ranger.

"That green really does bring out your eyes."

His eyes stung from the bright light; his cheeks and hair were slightly sore from Rarity's heavy-handed 'makeover'. After finishing his outfit she had said, "You want to make a good impression on my friends, don't you? Let's make you absolutely stunning." Thus followed fifteen minutes of vigorous combing and scrubbing until his skin was raw and his hair at least looked presentable. She then offered a hoof and led him out into the sunshine.

Ponyville's town square was bustling and as human and pony ambled into its midst, exclamations of shock and even outright hostility caught Bryn's ears. "By Celestia, what is that thing with Rarity?" one gasped. Foals cried and cowered behind their parents' forehooves.

"Pay them no mind," Rarity soothed. "See? Sugarcube Corner, where my friend Pinkie Pie works. I can't wait for you to meet her!"

A small part of Rarity was afraid that her friends would react as many Ponyville citizens were doing, especially in the case of Rainbow Dash. The reader will remember that she fainted before the conflict of Pegasus and human and thus had no inkling, besides Rainbow Dash's boasts, of what had happened. Her flying friend was known for attacking first and talking second.

Bryn, on the other hand, wondered vaguely why the building in front of him looked like it had been drenched in pink and white cake frosting.

"Let's go in. I bet they're waiting for us." She led Bryn quickly through the door, hoping the stream of whispered comments would stop. It didn't.

Four of her best friends were at their usual table in the back of the Cakes' bakery. It was bustling with the lunchtime traffic, including a booth full of rowdy ponies still dusty from a morning's work in the fields. Ponyville was a town of honest working ponies and the crowd reflected this; Sugarcube Corner was a place for amazingly delicious meals regardless of one's lot in life. Pinkie Pie was working and in typical Pinkie fashion, bubbly and effervescent and completely overdosed on sugar.

"Ah'm telling ya, it ain't natural," Applejack was saying. She turned her Stetson nervously in her hooves. "Our family's never lost a crop o' apples this early before. At this rate we won't have nearly enough for cannin', let alone cider."

"Not again," Rainbow Dash sighed. "You never have enough cider."

"According to my research, this winter is supposed to be mild, not severe," answered Twilight. "I found it-"

"-in a book," Rainbow finished.

Twilight frowned at her. "It's awfully strange, whatever the reason. Rainbow Dash, have you heard anything at the weather station lately?"

"Nothing except some trouble with thunderheads last night, but Thunderlane's team handled it. They're pushed back over the Everfree Forest and the gorge. Nothing to panic about."

"I would have panicked," said Fluttershy timidly.

"That's your answer to everything!"

Fluttershy flinched and shrank back in her chair.

Pinkie Pie was in exceptionally high spirits today. Most of it was due to the Cakes' introduction of a new variety of cupcake, called the Chocolate Raspberry Eruption. The 'eruption' referred to Pinkie's contribution to the dessert, which was secretly disguised in its creamy chocolate icing, and when eaten would produce a small bubbly blast of frosting in an unsuspecting pony's mouth. They were quite the hit in Sugarcube Corner as mare and stallion alike experienced miniature nuclear frosting detonations. Ponies leaving the shop were seen splattered with frothy chocolate and yet were buying the cupcakes in droves to take home.

A pile of them sat in the center of the Mane Six's table and only Rainbow Dash and Twilight had tried the deceptive desserts. Applejack bit into one, wiping gobs of icing from her muzzle, and said, "Not ta mention all these strange folk comin' through Ponyville lately."

"Strange folk?" wondered Twilight. "I haven't seen anypony new around here." This was, in fact, true. Since Fluttershy had arrived on her doorstep three nights ago, Twilight had indeed been kept indoors by her duties to her friend and to the library; between the two, she had no spare time at all. Today was the first day that Fluttershy had seen daylight and only at Twilight's urging.

"Well then you haven't taken a stroll lately. Just last night Big Mac an' Ah were workin' the east field when this wagon rolls by on the main road. Mind ya, we see lots o' travelers but this one was Appleloosan by the looks of it. Out of repair an' overloaded. Them poor oxen could barely budge the thing, an' even with two ponies pushin' from the rear." She took a hesitant bite from her cupcake, afraid it would expel more goo into her eyes. "The look on their faces, Twi'… Ah don't wanna see that look again. Like they were runnin' away from something and they'd die before givin' up. Like they were all hollow inside."

"Relatives of yours?" said Twilight uneasily.

"Ah ain't never seen 'em before, honest. Still, it unsettled me a little."

"Then you need… ANOTHER CUPCAKE!" Pinkie shrieked. She had bounced over to the table so quickly that she appeared to teleport. "They're sooo good. Which I should know, because I'm the one who made them, but still! Try one! I made this batch extra chocolaty for my bestest friends."

Pinkie's eyes were bulging out from the effects of so much sugar. Applejack inched away before saying, "Ah think Ah'm good, sugarcube."

"Okay! Well let me know if you want another because there's another batch in the oven and I put even more special frosting on them!"

Applejack face-hoofed.

The talk vacillated between the weather, which somehow never ceased to amaze, and plans for this year's Running of the Leaves celebration which was fast arriving in two weeks. A book lay open on the table in front of Twilight, who rolled her eyes at Pinkie, and Rainbow went on and on about how she would finally beat Applejack in this year's race. Yet Applejack's attention was not on her Pegasus rival but on the other Pegasus at the table. Fluttershy had been completely quiet save for a few whispered greetings and in the shop's bright lights, she also caught the painfully obvious scars on her friend's face as well as horrible bags under her eyes. Someone- an animal or perhaps Fluttershy herself- had tried inexpertly to cover them with makeup.

"You're quieter than a worm eatin' zap apples," Applejack said. "Are ya all right, Fluttershy? Ah haven't seen ya around lately."

Her answering "yes" was quieter still. She glanced at Twilight as she said it and Rainbow Dash caught the guilty look on her face.

"I came around your house yesterday and you weren't there… is everything all right? You look awful."

"Rainbow!" said Twilight. She put a hoof around the trembling yellow pony. "She was only asking because she cares about you, Fluttershy. Even if she's asking too aggressively."

Fluttershy tried to reply and could only produce a hoarse rasp. She had dreaded being in public today but could never let her friends down, even if her own life depended on it, and had followed Twilight with the hope that somehow her absences and barely healed scars would be overlooked. And now her friends' attention was focused solely on her. Their eyes were six glaring spotlights. She looked around at their concerned faces and found that the words just would not come.

"I… was…" Sweat poured down her forehead. How would she begin to explain about her nightmare in the forest? Or where she had been for the last three days, darting furtively home to care for her animals and spending nights at Twilight's library where only the comfort of her unicorn friend allowed her to catch a few hours of restless sleep? The fatigue and fear showed on her face. Fluttershy found herself caught between wishing to disappear from Ponyville and craving the love and security of her friends, and inch by inch she shrank down into her chair.

Nothing could stop her nightmares. Forgoing sleep seemed a better solution than facing them.

Twilight's hoof found hers; she said, "It's okay, Fluttershy. Just tell them what you told me last night."

Only one thing saved Fluttershy from a sticky situation. "Celestia's beard! What is that thing?" shouted a pony from across the room. Rarity and Bryn had come to Sugarcube Corner.

Rarity passed through the door looking every inch a princess. Her head was held high and her form-fitting dress showed off her perfect figure, turning the heads of every single stallion in the place. Those not watching Rarity's flanks soon noticed the lean, darkly handsome human walking beside her. It was hard not to notice him, after all. He was taller than any pony and utterly alien to pony eyes.

Fluttershy jumped and uttered a small shriek, but her predicament was quickly forgotten as Twilight Sparkle looked toward the disturbance and caught sight of Bryn. Her muzzle opened in a soundless O. Applejack stood up and exclaimed, "What in tarnation?!" She produced a coil of rope from behind the chair. In her hooves it was as good a weapon as any blade.

Rainbow Dash was the first to act. "YOU!" She jumped from her chair and landed in front of him, too fast for Applejack to grab her tail and restrain her. "Did I not make myself clear enough when I told you to leave, freak?"

"AAAHHHHHH! A MONSTER!" Pinkie screeched. She dove behind the counter and brought a whole tray of cupcakes onto the floor in her haste. Volatile chocolate frosting mingled together in a slow explosion, spraying everywhere and hitting the walls in thick gobs.

"You're not welcome here," growled Rainbow. "Leave before somepony gets hurt and by somepony, I mean you."

Twilight and Applejack stood shoulder-to-shoulder wearing identical shocked expressions; Fluttershy simply crouched underneath the table. Upon seeing Bryn, the unicorn had prepared an immobilizing spell but the scarlet energy died on the tip of her horn when she saw Rarity at his side. They had walked into Sugarcube Corner like old friends. What in the name of the Elements is going on? she wondered. Applejack's rope fell from her hooves when Rarity said, as calmly as if she was stopping a stranger for the time, "I'd like you all to meet Bryn Hansen. Bryn, this is Applejack, Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash."

She indicated each pony with a sweep of her hoof. Rainbow Dash's name had barely left her lips when her winged friend growled and pounced on Bryn with a gigantic crash.

"RAINBOW DASH!" yelled Rarity, to no avail. Human and pony smashed right through the glass display of Sugarcube Corner and demolished an entire rack of Pinkie's newly made cupcakes as well as nearby donuts, eclairs, and cream puffs.

A more hilariously horrible scene could not have been imagined. More than a dozen ponies ran head over heels from the bakery, some covered in debris and confectioners' sugar, while inside three friends watched Rainbow Dash and Bryn slug it out in the midst of a chocolate nuclear reactor. Frosting and furniture and broken glass and sawdust mingled in a deadly bubbling concoction upon the floor. Bryn spat out a mouthful of the sugary stuff- where is all this fucking frosting coming from? -only to receive Rainbow's left hoof in his face. The Pegasus was all snarls and quick attacks but couldn't take flight due to her feathers being glued together with chocolate glaze. There was, however, nothing wrong with her hooves.

"I don't want to fight you!" Bryn bellowed, dodging her strikes by mere centimeters.

"I wouldn't want to fight me either," was Rainbow Dash's sarcastic remark, and a vicious kick found his groin. It hurt so badly that he almost retched on the spot; he went flying into the rear wall and saw stars. Pure fighting instinct took over. Knowing that the finishing move was only seconds away, he shook off the disorientation and grabbed up the remnants of a broken chair. All he had to do was time it perfectly and-

WHAM. The chair, flung with all of his might like a shotput, caught his opponent squarely in the face and its legs would have impaled one of Rainbow's eyeballs if not for her remarkable reflexes. She grunted in pain and rose to her hooves, angrily brushing crushed cupcakes from her eyes, and in that moment Rarity acted.

"Stop!" A bolt of unicorn magic hurled Rainbow to the floor and pinned her there. "You're both my friends and I order you to stop fighting right now!" A moment later she said, "Ugh! Chocolate stains on my brand new dress! Do you know what happens when chocolate gets into goose feathers? Do you?"

Applejack's muzzle had yet to close. "Twi, Ah think Ah'm daydreamin' the worst gosh-darn daydream ever."

The sound of Pinkie Pie's mop was loud in the silent shop. Six ponies and one human stood in the chaos, staring at one another in outright shock from what had just happened, and nopony was in a hurry to break the awkward moment. The dumbfounded pink pony had sobbed for an entire minute at the devastation, but eventually produced some cleaning supplies and dabbed at the mess.

Without realizing it, Bryn started chuckling, and when Applejack said, "Just what in the hay are ya laughing about?" he answered, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. Er- hoof. The wrong hoof."

"You speak our language," said Twilight. It was the first she had spoken since seeing Equestria's very first human.

"I speak English. Not sure what language you're talking about."

Twilight moved toward him, examining him for the first time like one might examine a specimen under a microscope. "You clearly speak the common language of Equestrian, which would mean that you come from this world or at least have a passable knowledge of it. So therefore, since you aren't a pony or a mule or a zebra, you are not scientifically possible." She poked different parts of him with her forehooves. "This isn't scientifically possible!"

"Ah think what she means is… what are ya?" put in Applejack. "Some kinda messed-up hairless mule?"

"He's a human and he's my friend." Rarity stood at his side, doing her best to look regal despite being stained with chocolate foam. "Anypony who tries to hurt him will have to deal with me first. Yes, you, Rainbow Dash."

Much like Sweetie Belle, Twilight was more curious than frightened, and soon began to pepper him with questions. "But what exactly is a human? Why is Rarity defending you? How did you get here?" She walked in a circle around him and admitted, "I'm quite flabbergasted at the moment."

"Ah'll join ya in your flabbergastation."

"Applejack, that isn't even a word!" complained Rarity. "And Bryn, darling, just look at your brand new coat, all dirty from chocolate… I'll clean it for you when we get home."

"Uhhh… why are you callin' that thing 'darling'?" Applejack asked.

"Because he's only a lost and lonely human that somehow ended up in Equestria, and he needed a friend. He wasn't trying to hurt me last night. He was just scared. Weren't you?" Rarity smiled at him and winked.

An angry and chocolate-covered Rainbow Dash regarded the human with loathing. "Then why was he slinking around at night outside of your place last night, Rarity? For all you know, he's a changeling that shifted into that shape."

The mention of shifting made Bryn slightly uneasy, and he recalled last night when he had been forced to phase away from Rainbow Dash to escape. Just how much does she suspect? He quickly changed the subject. "I'm not a- changeling, whatever that is. I'm human and I'm not sure how I got into your world, but I don't want to hurt anyone. Rarity offered me a place to stay and I'll help out however I can."

"Ya offered it- Ah mean him- a place ta stay?" exploded Applejack, pointing a hoof at Bryn. "Are ya sure it's safe?"

"I would stake my life on it," said Rarity.

Bryn looked around at the faces of the ponies around him. Applejack looked uneasy, Twilight amazed, Rainbow Dash infuriated, and Fluttershy- or, to be exact, the two yellow pony ears poking up from behind the table that were the only visible parts of Fluttershy- too shy and terrified to do anything but tremble. Pinkie Pie mopped up chocolate while occasionally gasping at the human standing in the wreckage of her shop.

"Well then! This is… certainly a pickle." Applejack kicked at the floor. "So Twi', what do we do now?"

"Introduce ourselves, of course. My name is Twilight Sparkle and I guess I can be the first to formally welcome you to Equestria." She smiled and shook his hand.

"Thanks…?" said Bryn.

"Ah'm Applejack." The farmer pony held out her hoof to him, the hoof that wasn't clutching the coil of rope. "If Rarity trusts ya, Ah'm willing ta give ya the benefit o' the doubt, but just keep in mind that if ya lay a hurtful hoof on her or any o' my friends, ya'll be the first an' last human in Equestria."

Bryn found himself liking this pony already. Or, at least, respecting her. She was a straight talker and, unlike Rainbow Dash, wasn't as quick to judge, but he also noticed that she had not been overly friendly. Her mouth was a thin straight line and her eyes were wary and unsmiling. He shook hooves with her- holy crap, she's strong- and said, wincing from her viselike and slightly calloused grip, "I'd never hurt her."

"And this is Fluttershy," said Twilight, "but she's a little- well, shy." She rolled her eyes at Fluttershy's ears. "Fluttershy, please come out? I promise it's okay."

Her whispered "no thanks" was too soft for even mice to hear.

"So now that Rarity speaks up for him, we're all supposed to get lovey-dovey with this changeling?" Rainbow Dash snarled. "He knows who I am, and I'm not pleased to meet him. I say he gets out of town as fast as he can walk. Or better yet, I can give him a helping kick."

"You might be turning an endangered species out in the wild to die!" exclaimed Twilight. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study these 'humans'. I've never heard of their kind before, not even in the Encyclopaedia Equestritannica. Perhaps they come from south of the Badlands where nopony has explored in centuries."

Bryn and Rarity exchanged glances. Somehow Twilight had gotten the idea that he was not a resurrected teenager from Earth but an endangered Equestrian species. Brilliant. "I'm from Earth," he said pointlessly. "You know… the solar system? Milky Way galaxy. Orion Arm." He rattled off every muddled fact he could remember from seventh-grade science class.

"If those are constellations, they're not familiar to me. Although your people might have different names for the same stars that we see at night." Twilight produced a thick book from her saddlebag and buried her muzzle in it. "I wonder if the system you mention is part of the Equus cluster…"

He felt suddenly like he was back in school and in the presence of the teacher's pet who knew far more about astronomy than he ever would. He turned back to Rainbow Dash. "Can you forgive me for startling you last night and we can start over? I'm sorry we had that fight. I didn't want to fight anyone."

"Anypony," whispered Rarity, nudging his elbow.

"Whatever." He tried to shake the cyan Pegasus's hoof but she took a step back and said, "If I don't let my friends touch my hooves, I'm certainly not going to let some slimy changeling touch them."

"He's a changeling?" shrieked Pinkie Pie.

Twilight rolled her eyes once more. "Although I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check." Before Bryn could blink, he was laid onto the floor by a blinding flash of magenta light. His skin tingled and he gasped for breath. "That spell would have revealed a changeling's base form… looks like we have nothing to worry about. He's not lying."

"Thanks for being so trusting," he growled, getting to his feet with difficulty, although he knew the purple unicorn was right to be wary of him. A talking pony suddenly appearing on Earth would no doubt receive much worse treatment. Whatever a changeling was, it must have reassured these ponies to know that he wasn't one, because Applejack visibly relaxed. Pinkie Pie had produced a giant cannon from somewhere (out of thin air?) and pointed its barrel between his eyes, but after Twilight's spell proved his humanity, she rolled it away and grinned at him.

"So he's not a changeling. Big deal. I still don't like him one bit," said Rainbow Dash.

"Give him a chance, Rainbow dear," Rarity replied. "If he wanted to hurt me or cause trouble, he would have done it already. Remember when we all thought Zecora was out to hurt us but she was only helping? What if he came here to help us?"

Rainbow snorted but said nothing.

"I'm Pinkie Pie!" exclaimed the party pony, jumping in front of Bryn and shaking his hand with both hooves. "It's super duper nice to meet you, changeling- I mean human- I mean Bryn. I really really really love meeting new friends because it's so much fun and you know the best thing to do when you meet someone new?"

"Here it comes," said Applejack dryly.

"A PARTY! And I love parties because I love to make my friends happy! You should come to Sugarcube Corner tonight and I'll throw you a giant welcome-to-Equestria party!" Confetti rocketed into the air as she shouted the word 'party' and much like the cannon, nopony knew how it was produced.

"Um, sugarcube? Maybe ya should clean up this party first. We'll all lend a helping hoof."

"Me too. After all it's my fault that your shop got messed up, Pinkie. Can you help me lift this table?"

Rainbow Dash's grumbling notwithstanding, the group set to cleaning up the mess that was Sugarcube Corner. The hardest thing to clean up was the chocolate, which sputtered and foamed even after exhausting its energy. For the next half hour they scrubbed frosting stains from every surface in the room and then swept up the broken glass and other debris. The job went quickly with six ponies and one human working together.

Or, to be exact, one human and five ponies. For when the tables were shifted aside so the jagged glass could be collected, a certain yellow Pegasus was missing. Fluttershy had slipped out the door when all attention was focused on Bryn. Twilight frowned but said nothing.

Regardless, it was hard to get a word in edgewise when Pinkie Pie was so chatty. "Ooh, I should make a batch of really big Chocolate Raspberry Eruption cupcakes for the party tonight! Except I'm out of the secret ingredient because I made so many. I wonder if Zecora's home. She's the only one that sells it." She elaborated about cupcakes and other non sequiturs, and by the time the bakery was tidied, the others were a bit weary of her voice.

"Seven o'clock! Be on time or you're a mule!" called Pinkie to her friends, as they left in pairs after everything was set back in order. A passing mule shouted and shook his hoof at her. "Sorry! No offense."

"Let's go home and get you cleaned up," said Rarity. "We can't have chocolate all over that gorgeous outfit. Besides, Sweetie Belle will want dinner and then there's the dinner mess to clean up and then I have to find something dashing to wear for Pinkie's party tonight. Just any old dress will never do."

The pair headed back to the Boutique, walking slowly and enjoying the afternoon sun. "Is she always like that? Hyper and crazy like she just snorted a sack of sugar?"

"Oh, that's nothing compared to some of the things Pinkie's done in the past. Like at the last Grand Galloping Gala where she turned a stately ball into a party with foals' songs and cake and confetti. It was the talk of Canterlot for weeks."

"Umm…" said Bryn, not understanding any of it.

"And yes, she did throw a party for me when we first met. I was only a young filly at the time and was fresh from Manehatten without many friends here in Ponyville. Pinkie went out of her way to make me feel welcome even though she was two years older than me. She likes you already, you know. It was good of you to lend a helping hoof with that ghastly mess in her shop."

"I guess it could have gone a lot worse. Besides Rainbow Dash, your friends don't seem to mind me."

"Give her time, dear. Rainbow Dash is… headstrong and brash and impatient but there's nopony more loyal to her friends and her family. The six of us are like a family really, when you think about it. Our Elements make us a family."

Element. There's that word again. "If you don't mind me asking, what's the element thing about?"

Rarity gave him an appraising look. "I suppose the easiest way to explain it would be that each of my friends and I carry powerful magical artifacts. Each one represents a different value that Equestria was founded upon, and with the help of the Princesses, we're responsible for defending the kingdom. Mine is Generosity."

So she's a fashionista and a ninja and she defends the country… what more awesome things can she possibly be? "Then I'm sure glad I met you first and not Rainbow Dash, because she would have kicked my ass instead of letting me stay. She must be the element of fighting. Magical fighting, probably."

"No, silly," said Rarity, laughing. "She is the Element of Loyalty. Couldn't you see it? How she leapt into action because she thought I was in danger? She would go to the ends of the world and beyond for her friends. That's what friends are supposed to do."

What friends are supposed to do. Like what I tried to do when Caitlin and I were in that closet, but I wasn't quick enough.

He glanced sidelong at the unicorn, who stepped daintily through mud puddles so the fringes of her dress wouldn't get wet. The words he really wanted to say were tied in nervous knots around his tongue and, in typical Bryn fashion, came out all wrong. "If you can believe it, I never had any friends until the day I- well, died. And then I found myself here and you know the rest. Maybe you and I could be friends too. I only knew what it was like to have a friend when it was too late."

A soft and very warm hoof touched his shoulder. "You're already my friend, Bryn dear. In time you'll get to know all my friends better."

What Bryn truly wanted to say was thank you. It was the sort of thank-you, however, that ran deeper than merely 'thank you' could say alone. Those two words couldn't convey the adoration he was now feeling. He had the sentence somewhere on his tongue, ready to be spoken, and yet Rarity's eyes gazed up at him like sultry liquid sapphires and muddled up the next thing he wanted to say, which was I hope I get to spend more time with you. It emerged as "I don't remember the last time I felt this happy." Which was nowhere near the original meaning, but Rarity beamed all the same.

"The days will only get better. You'll love it here in Ponyville, I just know it."

"What if I already do?" he answered, and Rarity playfully brushed her tail against him.

---

Pinkie Pie never skimped on parties. Everypony who ever attended one knew that she pulled out all the stops. "Expect a wild night," as Rarity succinctly put it. "Last time, I wasn't home until three in the morning and was doused in lemonade with bits of confetti stuck in my mane. Not to mention a headache from drinking so much cider."

"Am I underdressed or overdressed?" he wondered. Once they were home, Rarity had used her magic to vacuum the chocolate from his robes. They skipped dinner because, apart from not being very hungry, they discovered a note from Sweetie Belle on the kitchen table. Sis, it read, Hanging out with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo and Applejack is making us dinner. I'll be home later. At the bottom was written Sorry, Sis in a hasty scrawl.

Besides, Pinkie was bound to have plenty of food. Especially cupcakes.

"You are just right. Tell me, is this dress too… small?"

They were whiling away time in Rarity's workroom before seven o'clock arrived. He had begun to wonder if the closets in the Boutique were also magic, because there was no other way that she could fit so many different dresses and hats and feathered scarves and other fashionable creations inside. She tried on dress after dress and he had lost count of how many times, just in a single day, she had changed clothes. Are all girls this crazy about their clothes, even if they're ponies?

She emerged from the fitting room and his jaw dropped. "A lady does need a gentleman's opinion," she said, when words failed him.

At that moment, Bryn was struggling with a difficult concept. She's a pony. And yet right now, she looks like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. How can I think that about a horse? Isn't that a little perverted? Part of his mind saw Rarity as an aberration of nature, or at least the nature he knew, and the other part imagined her as a female friend who just so happened to have four legs. Horses weren't supposed to talk, no matter what size or color they happened to be… but she can talk and every time I'm around her, I can't help the way I feel. Especially when she looks like that.

Bryn Hansen had a very quickly growing crush on a pony. To be fair, any stallion in Ponyville with a heartbeat would have felt the same way if they caught sight of Rarity in that getup.

It all started with her hooves: four satin sandals, the clasps of which were pure silver and wound in flowing spirals up her legs. She had picked a shimmery evening dress that fell to her upper thighs and left her snowy white flanks uncovered. On a human, the same dress would barely be considered a tank-top. Her usually bouncy purple mane and tail were combed out and pinned in soft, flowing waves, more casual beauty than high society queen, and she completed the look with small sapphire earrings. She smiled up at him and his heart stopped.

"Wow," was all he could choke out. "You look amazing."

It was only later that he wondered if Rarity always dressed up this way for parties or if her fashion choices were for his benefit. Or a little of both. "Darling," she asked, "are you ready to go? Let's make them all green with envy tonight."

They were quite early for the party, but the extra time let them walk slowly through the town square and enjoy the sunset. Rarity soon began to regret her choice of clothing because during the past hour, a brisk breeze had picked up and the cobblestones held a damp chill that seeped right through her shoes.

"I can just imagine it now," began the unicorn. "Sugarcube Corner will be warm and bright and sweet-smelling. Pinkie will have balloons and streamers and confetti and all sorts of nice delicious things to eat. Not to mention steaming hot tea to drive out this cold. Ugh!" She shivered and moved closer to Bryn; with each stride, her hips touched his. "And we'll dance and play games and have a marvelous time. Just wait and see."

Dusk quickly approached. The walk to Pinkie's bakery took about ten minutes and by the time they reached its doors, Bryn's hands ached from the chill. He flexed his hands to keep blood circulating. "Is it usually this cold in Equestria?" he asked.

"It is nearly wintertime, darling. One year when I was a filly, Manehatten got three feet of snowfall."

Rarity pushed open Sugarcube Corner's door. Experience told her to duck, for fear of being buried in confetti or knocked to the floor by a fluffy pink pony, but this was not the case. She instead found herself face-to-face with a worried Twilight Sparkle. Behind Twilight, Rainbow Dash paced uneasily. Applejack sat at a nearby table with a hoof supporting her head.

"Rarity! Bryn! You made it. We were worried something had happened." Twilight quickly embraced Rarity.

"Whatever do you mean, Twilight? Of course we made it all right. We…" The unicorn trailed off, just now realizing why Twilight was upset.

The bakery was exactly as they had left it following their lunch date. The wooden 'Closed' sign still hung in the window and every chair- save the one occupied by Applejack- was stacked on the tables. A fire burned in the hearth and yet Bryn, who had grown up in a house equipped with a wood-burning fireplace, sized it up with a practiced eye and noticed that the fire had been burning for some time. Its flames were beginning to wane and soon it would be only embers. Above the hearth hung a white banner bearing the hoof-painted words "Welcome Home Bryn". The rest of the decorations lay either on the counter or the floor.

Rainbow Dash put to words what they were all thinking. "So where's Pinkie?"

A gust of wind rattled the windows.

CHAPTER TEN: THE STORM

October 10

The silence in Sugarcube Corner was thick enough to swim through. Bryn knew silence, such as the austere emptiness of the clearing where he once practiced his phasing, but places like that had their own background noise that melded into a kind of un-silence. Call it the elevator music to loneliness, if you will. This, however, was the complete absence of noise, broken only by the ponies' breaths and by the sputtering death throes of the flames. The fire's cheery brightness was fading fast. Perhaps realizing that the blaze was the room's sole heat source, Applejack crossed to the hearth and tossed on a few fresh logs.

"Didn't she say seven o'clock?" asked Twilight.

"That's what Ah heard. Maybe we're just a mite early."

Rainbow Dash looked around at the half-finished decorations and the tidy shop. Everything was untouched from earlier in the day; the chairs were set upside-down on the wooden tables and the floor was swept clean. "She told me yesterday that the Cakes were visiting some family in Fillydelphia. Pinkie should have been the only one here… so where is she?"

"She was obviously here." Twilight poked at the streamers strewn about on the floor. "Less than an hour ago, judging by the fire, and she was getting ready for the party. Something must have interrupted her."

"Pinkie Pie!" Rarity screeched.

"Ah suppose that's one way ta do it."

When several moments passed and it became obvious that Pinkie was nowhere within earshot, Applejack got up and went in search of her. She knew Sugarcube Corner by heart. It was as familiar as a broken-in saddle; Pinkie Pie had worked there for several years now and since then, she had invited her best friends to parties and sleepovers beyond count. The kitchen and pantry were full to bursting with sacks of sugar and candied goodness, but no pink pony.

An uneasy feeling grew in her chest when she went upstairs to find a solitary candle still burning in the hallway. The fire's warmth had wafted upstairs as far as the bedroom doors, although the rooms beyond were cold and dark and empty. No Cakes and certainly no Pinkie Pie. A thought came to Applejack as she trotted down the stairs- was she in her laboratory again? She returned to the kitchen.

Only a select few knew about the secret chamber below the bakery, and only an earth pony could actually get to it without aid. Placed above the trapdoor was an enormous set of wooden cabinets, stuffed with dishes and other cooking supplies, and weighing in at over seven hundred pounds. Applejack locked her hooves against the floor and pushed. A Pegasus or unicorn could never have physically shifted the cabinet, although a gifted unicorn like Twilight could have levitated it away in a jiffy.

Applejack lifted up the hidden trapdoor and slid down the wooden ladder. She was immediately assaulted by a dank stuffy smell of humidity and decay. It had been years since she had seen the basement; then, she had been in Pinkie's company and Pinkie had invited her down to show her a secret new recipe she had been cooking up. Many of her best culinary creations were born in this very room, hybrids of baking genius and laboratory science such as the Chocolate Raspberry Explosion. Yet from the looks of things, much had changed since then. The strange apparatus of barrels and mixing bowls and test tubes still sat in pristine condition against the far wall, as did the stack of surplus flour sacks and other ingredients, but it smelled as if nopony had even opened the cellar door in months. The candle holders held the melted stumps of tapers long burned out and the only light filtering in was from the kitchen above.

Strangely, she noticed a set of metal chains hanging to the right of the ladder. They creaked ominously when touched. The entire space had a dirt floor, well-tamped and immaculately clean- except for underneath the chains, where the dirt revealed reddish stains and odd patterns scratched into the soil.

Those chains weren't there the last time Ah was down here.

"Just what in the hay is goin' on?" An unexplainable dread intensified with each second. Its source was none other than the chains: they seemed to hold her gaze like electrically charged magnets and there was something unexplainably scary about the rusty metal links and the disturbed dirt beneath, something dark and evil and best kept buried. She couldn't escape the feeling that something horrible had happened to Pinkie.

Turning tail, she leapt up the ladder and dragged the cabinetry back over the door. The kitchen's bright light felt like an extension of the cellar… or was it the fetid stench wafting up from below that refused to dissipate? The stench that clung, even now, to her coat.

She shuddered.

On instinct, she hurried out of the kitchen and ran face-first into Twilight. "Applejack! We were just going to come looking for you! Did you find her?"

"Ah didn't find anything," she gasped, and found that her voice was trembling. She took great gulping lungfuls of air until the shaking stopped. Good, clean air.

"Do you remember her saying anything about going somewhere?" said Rainbow Dash. "You think she would have told her best friends before just disappearing."

"I think we're getting overexcited," said Rarity. "Maybe she went on an errand and meant for us to make ourselves at home until she returned."

"But you know Pinkie. She's never late and never unprepared. If she went on an errand, she would have left us a note." Twilight wandered around the shop, lifting chairs and peering under tables. "It's like she just disappeared. Are you sure there was no sign of her upstairs, Applejack?"

"Ah'm positive."

For the first time, Bryn spoke. "Didn't she say something about zecora? Whatever a zecora is… when we were cleaning up earlier, she mentioned it. Something about ingredients."

"That's right, she did mention going to Zecora's." Twilight's eyes grew as big as dinner plates.

"Ya think something bad happened to her on the way?"

"If it did, there's no time to lose. We need to find her!" The Pegasus took to the air and would have flown to the door if her tail hadn't been caught. This time, it was Twilight who clamped her teeth around Rainbow Dash's striped tail and held her fast.

"Wait. We- we probably shouldn't rush out there. Especially not at night."

"If Pinkie's in trouble, we can't afford ta waste time." Applejack opened the door and her Stetson was blown clear off her head. "Or maybe Ah spoke too soon."

"I don't believe it!" said Rainbow angrily. "There's not supposed to be a rainstorm scheduled for tonight! It's two nights from now and I'm going to smack Thunderlane if this is his fault."

Twilight and Applejack were closest to the doorway and received the blasts of frigid wind full-force. In the short time that they had been in Sugarcube Corner, that same breeze that ruffled Rarity's beaded silver dress had become a howling gale, albeit a dry one; no rain fell from the ugly gray skies above, as Rainbow Dash feared. Only screeching gusts of wind that were cold enough to cut through clothing and fur alike.

"My dress!" wailed Rarity. A huge draft caught the dress and pulled it ungracefully over her head.

"Of all the gosh-darned fussiest ponies. Why'd ya wear such a silly dress anyway if ya knew the weather's been bad lately? Somethin' like that only shows how beautiful ya are and won't keep ya warm-" but, too late, Applejack realized what had just slipped out of her mouth.

If not for the noise of the storm, Applejack's mistake would have been out for all the ponies to hear. As it was, only Rarity heard it, and her mouth opened in a soundless O.

"Applejack..." She sighed and placed a hoof on her friend's shoulder, leading her out of earshot of the others. "I never wanted to hurt your feelings, but I told you how I felt that night when we had dinner. You're my best friend and I would do anything for you. Can't we keep it at that?"

Poor Applejack was flustered and frightened and annoyed all at once. Not only had she let slip exactly what she thought of her friend for all ears to hear, she suddenly realized exactly why Rarity was wearing the dress in the first place. None of her other friends had dressed up for the occasion. It wasn't as if Pinkie Pie's parties were high society events, and playing pin-the-tail-on-the-pony was impossible if you were tripping over a bunch of useless clothes. She's all dolled up because of that- that human. He ain't been here more than a day an' Rarity's already gettin' excited about him.

Or that was how it appeared, in Applejack's mind. Had she blurted out her feelings because honesty was a part of her, or because she just couldn't hold them in any longer? Ah'm dumber than a sack of rocks. She'll never see me in that way, no matter how much Ah can't resist her.

Then, a moment later: Ah can't believe it… after everything, she'd pick some weird-looking monster over her best friend. Angry tears pooled behind her eyes and she blinked them away.

"We can't go out in this weather," said Twilight fretfully, oblivious to the silent distress of her friend. "Besides, I have to find out where Fluttershy went. I haven't seen her since lunch."

"But what if it were us? Pinkie Pie wouldn't let a windstorm get her down. I vote for going out into the forest right now and looking for her." Rainbow Dash landed in front of Twilight. "No matter what."

All five of them stepped out into the street, into a downtown Ponyville that was dark and silent. Every door and window was shuttered against the storm. As was customary for a culture with only candlelight to rely on when the sun set, ponies rarely stayed out later than sundown, and Ponyville's streets were barren.

"I don't get it! Who is running this bucking weather around here?" yelled Rainbow. Unshielded by any of the buildings, the wind's raw power was enough to nearly tear the dress from Rarity's body and to throw dust into the ponies' eyes, and was naturally aimed against the direction they needed to go. Unable to take to the sky without being blown all the way to Canterlot, Rainbow Dash screwed her eyes shut and walked against the cold knives of the storm. They didn't make it two hundred feet down the street before Twilight balked.

"At this rate we'll freeze to death before we get halfway to the forest. We have to turn back! First thing tomorrow morning we'll assemble here and look for her."

"Ah'm with Twi'. If Pinkie's with Zecora, she'll be fine till mornin.'"

Rainbow grumbled but deep down, she knew her friend was right. "I could make it, though," she said under her breath.

---

An hour ago…

Fluttershy held a carrot between her teeth. At the present rate, two things would happen to this carrot. Either it would be bitten in half from the mare's violent shaking and teeth-chattering, or the rabbit in front of her would finally lose patience and accept it as his only meal. She was in no mood to cook tonight, least of all one of Angel's extravagant dinners with fifty ingredients.

"Eat your carrot," she hissed. He shook his head defiantly. "You haven't eaten anything in hours and you're cranky so eat it."

Under her terrifying gaze (the precursor to her actual Stare) he grudgingly nibbled the end of the carrot placed in front of him. There was no enjoyment involved. As soon as Fluttershy turned away to see to his other animals, he spat out a mouthful of orange vegetable and glared at his caretaker with venomous hatred.

The Pegasus had already turned away from Angel, though, and missed his performance. Every window in Fluttershy's treehouse was closed, locked, and covered by opaque curtains. The front and rear doors were likewise locked and held shut by pieces of furniture- her upstairs dresser and part of her kitchen cabinet, respectively- and she had moved them there upon entering the house. She nervously glanced at them every few seconds or so like clockwork. Anything trying to force its way inside would find it difficult, although Fluttershy was not comforted at all by this knowledge.

It wasn't until after Angel rejected the carrot that he noticed Fluttershy's disheveled state. The bags under her eyes, her shaking hooves, and her nervous bloodshot eyes told the story of a pony far beyond ordinary insomnia. A pony pushed to her limits and hanging by a thread, and this thread was quickly becoming frayed.

The rabbit watched as she snatched up a long, thin bottle from her kitchen countertop bearing the label "Smirnhoof" and took a swig. The liquor burned like white fire and left a cloying foul taste in her mouth, but it was the only thing that made the black stallion go away. At least… for a time. At present, she was up to a bottle a day. The general store owner in Ponyville was happy to take her bits while looking sadly at this Pegasus that seemed to deteriorate before his eyes. With each passing day her appearance worsened.

Angel immediately regretted making her upset. But eating a carrot with some semblance of enjoyment wasn't going to make things any better.

She muttered things under her breath: "Have to keep the black stallion out. Can't let him in. Can't let him see. He'll see me. He's always watching, and when he's not watching, that means he's moving. Moving on whispering branches and moving even though he has no bones. Only limbs. Have to keep him out..." She trotted up the stairs to her bedroom, intending to close and lock those windows too, even though they had been bolted shut when she visited yesterday afternoon. Or had they?

A quick check revealed that the windows had not been tampered with. Fluttershy's hoof inched toward the curtain. I shouldn't look... He'll be there...

She looked anyway.

The sun had just set and beyond the eastern mountains was a quickly fading golden glow. Each house and lamppost and tree cast a long spindly shadow, making the streets look like a demented chessboard of light and darkness, and as dusk fell the contrast diminished. Soon all would be overtaken by the night. The same wind that would, in an hour, drive her friends home from their mission was beginning to rustle the tops of the trees. Fluttershy could hear its gentle thrum from her top floor as it transferred its energy down into the tree itself. Directly south of her treehouse was a writhing black expanse of forest that she couldn't see from her west window, but was too close nonetheless.

She noticed the black stallion, not because it had moved, but because it was the only thing in the landscape that was completely motionless. It stood stock-still in the street such that the second streetlamp's light illuminated it from behind. The same apparition that had haunted her since the forest... A stallion, balanced on his hind hooves, with jet-black fur and a wavy mane. Its face was wreathed in darkness.

Was it malicious? She had no doubt about that. The stallion was obviously malicious because of the strange manner in which it always appeared and the irrational fear it created. In the midst of talking to a friend… in her garden… on a walk outside in the morning… it flickered on the fringe of her vision, at a distance and usually camouflaged by shadows. As a rule, it vanished whenever she blinked or turned her head, and in the presence of others. Once, on a walk with Twilight, she had pointed out the stallion only to have Twilight say, "What stallion?"

Tonight was different. Instead of being at the very edge of the forest or behind a building, it was quite brazenly standing in the middle of the street and not even trying to be stealthy. Her gaze was drawn to it and a shiver of terror wracked her body every time she looked at its face.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

Fluttershy's heart was in her throat. She closed the curtain and trotted down the stairs, once more ensuring that her doors were secure.

Three quick knocks rattled her front door, making her shriek. "Fluttershy! Are you home? I need to talk to you."

Twilight? It certainly sounded like her friend's voice. She could barely squeak out a "yes". Only afterward did she realize her error. What if it's someone pretending to be Twilight? Now they know I'm here. Fluttershy shrank back against her kitchen counter and prayed for 'Twilight' to go away.

"You left so quickly from lunch today, and I'm worried about you… please open up? You can stay at my place tonight if it'll make you feel better."

If it really was Twilight, she couldn't risk hurting her feelings by ignoring her. Inch by inch, Fluttershy moved toward the door, feeling like she was making the biggest mistake of her life. When she turned the knob to let Twilight in, there was no purple unicorn waiting on the doormat. There was the monster…

Eight feet tall, its bloody sightless heads staring down at her, a multitude of tentacles snarling at its feet. Tentacles that grabbed at her and pulled her closer to gnashing teeth and darkness. Her back door was bolted shut; there was no escape that way, and certainly no escape through the front door when it was completely blocked by the creature's bulk. She was trapped.

She screamed once as the black horror seized her and tore her flesh to pieces.

In her bed, surrounded by a clutch of worried creatures, Fluttershy woke up from her nightmare. She was still screaming.

---

Rainbow Dash considered herself very lucky to find her house in the maelstrom of inclement weather surrounding Ponyville. Of course, if pressed about the matter, she would say that there was no such thing as luck and a true hero makes her own luck, but even her gifts of perception and finesse had limits, and tonight put them to the test.

Everything about a Pegasus- her lightweight bones, trim frame, and hundreds of hollow and very sensitive flight feathers- is intended to help her swim through the sky and feel its drafts and disturbances. As an earth pony grows crops and shepherds animals, so does a Pegasus shepherd clouds with gentle hooves. Rainbow Dash was the manager of Ponyville's weather department because she had a gift few Pegasi shared: a sixth sense of the heavens. No other pony could control and clear clouds with her speed and dexterity, or predict their patterns with her uncanny accuracy.

And so it was that when she battled her way through the skies above Sweet Apple Acres, she was not surprised to find her house missing.

A Pegasus house, made of cloud and bound with liquid rainbows, could withstand quite a pummeling from the elements. Even hurricane-force winds would only push the structure out of position and not break it apart, and this was exactly what had happened to Rainbow Dash's house. It normally hovered high above Applejack's orchards but was now nowhere to be found. She closed her eyes and sensed the wind patterns in her feathers, reading them like an open book. Her house had blown clear southwest of town, over the White Tail Woods; she let out a string of curses to make a Manehatten dockworker blush and began to shunt it back to town. "Somepony's going to answer for this tomorrow. If Bluebell got the date of the next downpour mixed up…"

Her teeth ground together in anger. Deep inside, though, tonight's unexpected weather felt nothing like a scheduled rainstorm. She knew what rainstorms felt like. As a rule, Pegasi disliked creating wind except in the direst of circumstances and nothing about this wind felt hoof-made. Tomorrow, a certain group of ponies at the weather station would get a piece of her mind.

The damage to her home's cumulus foundation was slight and easily repaired and before she called it a night, she checked her mailbox. Somepony (most likely Derpy) had again mixed up her mail with Granny Smith's and the mailbox was stuffed full of farming magazines and knitting patterns. With a groan she tossed the whole pile onto her kitchen table, reminding herself to redeliver it in the morning. A piece of parchment sealed with an official-looking "L" in navy blue wax caught her eye and she sank down onto her sofa to examine it. A moment later it fell limply from her hooves. After today, and my friend is somewhere out there in the forest missing... is this really happening?

RAINBOW DASH

SWEET APPLE ACRES HEIGHTS

PONYVILLE, EQUESTRIA

Your presence is hereby requested in the Royal Canterlot Night Court beginning at sundown tomorrow concerning the proceedings of the following:

Case # 481

Weather Dept. of Cloudsdale v. Weather Dept. of Vanhoover

STARDANCER, defendant

APRIL SHOWERS and RAINBOWSHINE and BLUEBERRY CLOUD, plaintiffs

You are named a material witness in the above case. Please report promptly to the Court on this date. If you are unable to attend, a representative appointed by you in writing may attend in your stead or, in extenuating circumstances, the trial will proceed at a later date convenient for all parties.

Regards,

FRESH PARCHMENT, bailiff

By the order of Her Royal Highness Princess Luna

CHAPTER ELEVEN: SECRETS

October 11

"Can you believe it? Summoned to Canterlot for a court appointment, over something I have no clue about? At a time like this?!" Rainbow Dash brought the brand-new Daring Do book she had been leafing through, Daring Do and the Compass of Destiny, onto the table with a loud thud. Twilight winced.

"I thought you loved going to Canterlot."

"Well yeah, but not when my friend is missing and I'm accused of something I didn't do!"

"It doesn't look like they're accusing you of anything, Rainbow. It's probably just some disagreement between Pegasi and the Princess called in the only Pegasus that truly knows her stuff when it comes to weather." Twilight held out a cup of clover and honey tea, freshly made by Spike, in a transparent effort to calm her friend down. It did no good. She nosed the cup away and stamped her hooves.

"I want to know why we're not out there right now searching the forest for Pinkie. That's what she would want us to do, not waste time in Canterlot."

Rainbow Dash had been at her wit's end when she received the notice, bearing Princess Luna's unmistakable royal seal, and fell into her soft bed of clouds vowing to deal with this setback in the morning. The problem with this line of reasoning was that morning came far too soon for her taste. Way too soon. Also, the shortage of relaxing naps in clouds lately was really getting to her.

And then there were the nightmares, of course. Even her bed of puffy water vapor, which cradled and caressed her every curve as she slept, wasn't enough to guarantee a good night's sleep. One ominous dream melted into another and left her restless. First was a dream of Pinkie being chased through the forest by a pack of timberwolves. The timberwolves had the faces of her friends: Applejack, Rarity, Twilight, Fluttershy. She was only a bystander to the hunt. Then came one in which she and Pinkie were having tea in Twilight's balloon, drinking from cups made of solid chocolate. As the chocolate melted, so did the ropes holding the basket to the trembling gas-filled ball above them, and Pinkie was falling. It turned out that only two ropes had melted and she, Rainbow Dash, clung to the balloon's undercarriage for dear life because her wings were missing. Suddenly black tentacles came out of nowhere and severed the rope. She was nothing more than a flightless earth pony as she fell two thousand feet to her doom.

So Rainbow Dash, sleep-deprived and in too much of a hurry to tease her mane into its usual carefully styled disarray (she would never admit it to Rarity, but her signature look took much more than a morning breeze to achieve) snatched up Luna's summons and went in search of Twilight. Last night's storm had blown over to the south and in the pre-dawn gloom, no evidence remained of its passing except the leaves and branches that had been ripped from the trees and hurled willy-nilly around Ponyville. That, and the hard crust of snow it deposited. No doubt the cleanup crews would be busy today. I'm surprised there's any leaves left after that storm.

Maybe she arrived a bit too early.

"Twilight! Twilight! Open up, I need to talk to you!" she cried, hammering on the library door, and jumped back in alarm when Twilight answered it. Her hair was in tangled disarray and she had wrapped herself in a ratty old bathrobe and slippers. The ponies' breaths came out in icy puffs. "Oh. Um… sorry if I woke you up."

"It's no trouble. Couldn't sleep anyway, so I decided to get a head start on making today's checklist. Spike's making breakfast. What's wrong, Rainbow? Come inside where it's warm."

Twilight's nervous glances to either side when she opened the door didn't escape Rainbow Dash's notice. As she sat down in the library and explained her situation, Spike dropped something heavy in the kitchen and Twilight jumped. The dragon's cries mixed with metallic clanking sounds.

"None of us could have found Pinkie in that storm last night. Actually, after breakfast I was going to get Rarity and Applejack to help, and Bryn could come too if he wanted, and just start at Zecora's and go from there. But now that you have this appointment, maybe I should come with you to Canterlot."

Rainbow frowned. "There's no reason for both of us to go. Fluttershy can help too… just tell Pinkie that I had an urgent appointment, when you find her."

"Just let me come with you, for moral support if nothing else. Who knows, maybe if things go bad at the hearing you might need somepony influential with the Princesses. And after yesterday I'm not sure if Fluttershy wants to do anything at the moment."

Twilight did her best to sound cool and assertive but was afraid the white lie would be apparent in her voice. She wanted to go to Canterlot, and desperately, especially since it had been two full days since her last letter to Princess Celestia had not received a reply. This letter held two pages' worth of her worries about Fluttershy and the general unease of a lavender unicorn who was afraid to venture out at night, as well as a full page of her love.

She hated to think that something might have happened in Canterlot that was serious enough to drive her letter completely out of Celestia's mind. The thought that now made her break out in a spontaneous cold sweat was: what if it's all connected? What if things are bad all over Equestria and the Princesses are busy keeping order and we're never going to get to spend a real night together? What if the storm last night meant bad news for Ponyville and that's why Rainbow Dash is being called away? And how does Bryn fit into all of this? And Pinkie?

None of this crept into her voice, though, and Rainbow Dash was none the wiser. "If you say so, Twilight, but it's only three hours to Canterlot by train so shouldn't there be time for both? Let's go and find our friends and see what they think." She took to the air and was brought up short, again by Twilight's teeth around her tail. "Hey!"

"Um, Rainbow? It's four-thirty in the morning."

"So? Time's still ticking."

In reply, Twilight glared at her in that ridiculous robe and flyaway mane, and the point was soon made. The Pegasus grinned sheepishly. "After breakfast then?"

"Spike will have some muffins ready soon." From the kitchen came more crashes and the distinct sound of a sleepy dragon trying, and failing, to catch falling cooking equipment in his claws. "Hopefully. Why don't you sit down with that new Daring Do book until they're done? You know, the one that you bugged me about for the past two months even though you knew it wasn't going to come out until four days ago, and that I specially ordered from the Canterlot library for you? That one."

Twilight's so grouchy in the morning. It's adorable. "Well, when you put it that way…" Rainbow Dash found a cozy corner and opened Daring Do and the Compass of Destiny with eager hooves.

---

Across town, Bryn was also finding that mornings in Ponyville arrived far too early. It wasn't that his bedroom was a bad place to sleep, or that he normally had trouble sleeping, but that he was naturally a light sleeper. Every tiny noise put him on full alert. The entire night had been filled with noises, from the storm's shrieks to the crunch of a tortured tree as its trunk bent in high wind and snapped into splinters, and he slept fitfully. Confounding it all was the gigantic bed in Rarity's spare room. It was roughly the size of an Earth-standard king and after a lifetime of sleeping in the confines of a bunk bed, enveloped tightly with the comforting closeness of the bunk above him, all the extra space was unnerving.

In the wee hours of the morning he heard a tremulous "Bryn?" and jerked to full alertness in seconds. Sweetie Belle, frightened by the walls' incessant thrumming, had gone in search of somepony to comfort her. Because the guest bedroom was opposite the bathroom and Rarity's room was all the way at the end of the hall where the stairway met the upper floor, the filly came to his room first.

"I'm scared," she said in a voice heavy with sleep. "It sounds like our house is going to blow down and then the storm will kill us. Can I sleep here with you?"

The room was as dark as spilled ink and only Sweetie's silhouette was visible but, even five feet from the bed, he could see her shivering. Must be worse than I thought.
"Sure. There's plenty of room. Hop on up."

"Thanks." Instead of claiming the other side of the bed, she wriggled across to him and curled up in a compact ball against his chest. "You know, you're like the big brother I always hoped for."

Sweetie Belle was facing the wall and couldn't see Bryn's face. If she had looked closely at that moment, she would have seen moisture in his eyes. This is exactly what Serena used to do when our parents were fighting or when those dumb neighbors would throw their wild parties and get in brawls. Whenever something scared her, she'd climb down to my bunk and stay there for the entire night. She did that ever since she was old enough to have her own bed. I'd leave early for school and Serena would be fast asleep in my bed, then my mom got upset and told her to get back in her own bed. She didn't understand… that was the only place she felt safe. I miss her a lot right now.

"Does Rarity not like you going into her room?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice from breaking. He pulled the covers up to her chin.

"She hates it when I disturb her 'beauty rest' but now that you're here, I don't need to bother her." A violent blast of wind struck; Sweetie flinched. "It's going to get in, isn't it? And blow our house all the way to the Badlands."

A newcomer to Equestria he might be, but Bryn was no amateur at calming frightened little sisters, and apparently she had already adopted him. He held her shaking hoof and whispered, "That wind's going around Ponyville and looking for little lost ponies to gobble up. But you know what?" Pause for dramatic effect. Once he had told this exact line to Serena, on a stormy night much like this, and waited until her eyes were widened in horror to deliver the punch line. "That wind's secretly afraid of us because it knows we're stronger. Rarity put protective magic all around the house and even if it managed to show its face inside, both of us would beat it up so badly that it wouldn't come back for years."

"That's silly. Nopony can beat up wind."

"It's true though. Your amazing ninja sister would never let anything hurt you. Don't count me out, either."

Slumber began to wrap its soft limbs around Sweetie Belle and her next sentence was a tired mumble. "Do you like Rarity?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you like her? Like, like like her? I saw the way you were looking at her tonight. And at breakfast when you first met."

At least she can't see me blush. "Now who's being silly?" he answered airily, hoping his voice was not as see-through as it sounded. "If you really want to know, I think your sister is incredible. Don't- tell her I said that."

"You should tell her. I think she feels the same way about you." The filly snuggled in closer to his warmth and was soon too far gone to continue the conversation. He kissed her forehead and laid his own head back on the pillow.

Of course, now that the subject of Rarity was on the table, sleep truly was a lost cause.

So passed a sleepless and disturbed night, and Sweetie Belle was gone when he awoke early the next morning. The magical fire Rarity had conjured in his bedroom had long burned down and in its absence the room was literally an icebox. Shivering, he tugged on his jacket and pants and went downstairs.

He found a tousle-haired and bathrobed unicorn in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate between her hooves. In response to his tired morning smile she said, "A lady can't look perfect every second of the day. Besides, I slept awfully."

"Me too." Bryn made a cup for himself and joined her. "Hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't reinforced the tent and lit the fireplaces last night when we got back."

Rarity took a deep but ladylike drink, ensuring that not a drop of chocolate was anywhere near her perfect coat, and sighed heavily. "It's odd," she remarked at length. "Of course, you've only been in Ponyville for two days so you wouldn't know the difference, but the Pegasus ponies usually give us a much longer transition between fall and winter. And this year it's almost as if winter has just- arrived. All of a sudden it's bitter cold outside, like there was summer and suddenly, winter." She shivered despite the roaring fire in the grate.

"Wait… the Pegasus ponies control the weather?"

"Why yes, dear. Rainbow Dash is the weather manager of this town, didn't you know that?" She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Every year, the Pegasi bring the winter weather and then in the spring the earth ponies clean up all the horrid snow and ice so that the lovely spring weather can shine through. It's Ponyville tradition."

"If you say so…" He sipped at the foaming chocolate and stared into the fire. "But what about all the good things about winter? Fireplaces and snowball fights and sledding?"

Bryn was clinging to a very juvenile concept of winter, one that he had fond memories of back on Earth, and he loved it as only one could love it if they never knew the practical troubles it caused such as car trouble, heating bills, or drafty houses; Rarity gave him a knowing smile. "You do realize I live in a two-story tent with thin walls, don't you? Try keeping warm when outside your house is three feet of snow, and you'd better hope that you have enough wood to last until spring. And then if you run out of wood, you have to go cut more. Ugh, all the uncouth manual labor."

"Which is why you have me, right?"

"Speaking of which… while I prepare a few things for breakfast, would you mind tending to this list of chores? Just a few little things and such. Don't worry about the laundry because that's for Sweetie Belle to do." Rarity winked. "Shouldn't take you more than a minute. While you're out, I'll tidy up." She pushed a piece of paper across the table to him.

Clear up yard (branches, twigs)

Fill woodbox

Draw water from well

"The bucket's right there by the door." Five minutes later, with his arms full of snow-covered branches, he was beginning to doubt his future as Equestrian hired labor.

To start with, he wasn't dressed for it. All around Carousel Boutique was a thin, crunchy crust of windblown snow and the debris of last night's storm. Their back porch was no more than two hundred feet distant from the tree line and, as a result, many boughs big and small had been torn loose and hurled high into the air. The sudden thumps he heard in the night must have been caused by the larger ones as they ricocheted off the house's exterior. Thinking like someone who had grown up with woodstoves, he went in methodical circles around the house and gathered up every branch, then stacked them all in a heap by the shed. No sense in wasting good firewood. In a few months it would be perfectly seasoned and ready to burn.

What he hadn't reckoned on was the snow and the temperatures. The clothes Rarity had made for him were performing at top level; whatever miracle threads she weaved into the tight-fitting coat acted as a windbreaker and literally repelled the cold. His shoes, though, were another matter. In a minute the snow had seeped through the thin skateboard shoes and gnawed at his feet.

"Jesus," he said, shivering and flexing his toes to keep them warm.

His unprotected hands soon began to feel it too. The biggest branch lay fifteen feet from the house and was thicker than his thigh, and his fingers were numb after he dragged the heavy thing to the pile. Rarity had a heavy iron rack set up beside the shed that was half-full of neatly chopped logs and after the yard was clean, he carried several loads to the wooden box on the porch. By the time he got around to lifting the heavy iron cover from her backyard well, his hands were ice cubes. Wouldn't it be easier for her to do this? he thought as he hauled the unwieldy bucket up from the depths, just use her unicorn magic and do it ten times quicker than I could?

The chain was old and rusty and unwieldy, but in good condition. It wasn't until he filled the heavy tub with bone-chilling crystal clear water that he realized the irony of it all. Here he was, doing hard work for a pony, when in his world the ponies were the ones doing the hard work for him. It was such a silly reversal that he began to laugh and his snorts rang out in the stillness.

Bryn steadied the bucket and took a deep breath, and for a moment forgot all about the cold. He again was experiencing the sensation that he had upon first waking up in Equestria. It seemed to happen only with a chestful of oxygen and dead silence, although storms produced it in spades as well, and the best word he had to describe it was alive… almost as if the air was imbued with an elusive vigor and breathing it in was like a strong cup of coffee. Someone more adept with language than Bryn might have called it primeval when compared to average Earth air; it felt more youthful and untamed and dangerous. Even though he couldn't describe it that well, he felt it.

"Bryn! Come inside before you catch a cold!" called Rarity. He lugged the sloshing bucket across the yard to the back door and was attacked by the hooves of a worried pony.

"When I said do the chores, I didn't mean stay out until you freeze! Silly!" She took the bucket from him and fussed over his snow-covered and shivering form. "Just look at your poor hands… come sit by the fire."

He wanted to remind her that it was her decision to send him outside, but her ministrations were too adorable to interrupt. She shooed him over to the fire like an overbearing mother and put a knitted blanket around his shoulders. "You'll warm up in no time," Rarity cooed, ruffling his hair.

"I'm fine, Rarity," Bryn insisted. "Trust me, it was just my feet and hands. Everything else stayed warm." He pulled off the sodden shoes so his feet could dry by the fire. "These things weren't really made for snow but they're all I brought with me when I came to Equestria."

"Then I need to make a better pair for you. Perhaps a pair of gloves, too?"

"Says the pony that doesn't wear shoes at all," teased Bryn.

"I'll have you know that a lady always dresses for the occasion. Winter weather is no excuse for being unfashionable." Indeed, she had a whole closet full of boots upstairs, but Bryn couldn't possibly know that. "A day like today definitely calls for some stylish hoofwear."

They sat down to a simple breakfast of porridge, rolls, and fruit. Between the hot chocolate and the fire's glow, they were as warm as if they had been laying under summer sunshine while outside the gray clouds and frigid air swirled around the house, seeking a way inside. While he was out cleaning the yard Rarity had combed out her fluffy violet curls and donned what appeared to be the pony equivalent of a down parka, complete with baby blue high-topped boots and a chunky wool scarf. Supermodel meets Michelin Man was his first thought, although if anypony could pull it off without looking outlandish or chubby, it was Rarity. She would need the extra bulk today.

"We're supposed to meet Applejack in fifteen minutes, so let's not eat too slowly."

"To find Pinkie?"

She nodded, and let a small smile grace her features. "I bet Pinkie is having a nice cup of tea with Zecora right now, while we're all worried about her."

"I'm guessing Zecora is another pony."

"Zecora's a zebra. From southern Hoofrica, and she's a sort of- well, witch doctor. Or herbalist, I suppose. She lives in the middle of the Everfree Forest and keeps to herself, but she's wonderful to Ponyville and to my friends."

Remembering that forest too well, Bryn shivered. "She must be pretty brave to live out there all alone."

"I always thought there was something off about her," said Rarity, "so I borrowed a book from Twilight about zebras. They're like earth ponies but with magical ability nearly equal to a unicorn. I suppose they need it, with the griffon kingdom to the west and dragons not too far to the south. Most zebras are solitary and keep to the open spaces where they can see danger from far away."

"Wait. Dragons?"

"Of course, sweetheart. You didn't think there were just ponies in the world, did you?" She giggled at his open-mouthed stare. "Manticores, and Hydras, and timberwolves too. Horrid things, manticores. Dreadful tempers and even more dreadful breath."

"None of this even exists in my world. Only in stories and legends." He sipped at his cocoa and imagined that somewhere, high in the mountains, a real-life dragon was plotting the destruction of Ponyville.

"Twilight has a baby dragon as her assistant. You'll be the first human to see him."

As Bryn sat awestruck, the front door shook under the force of four tremendous knocks. Rarity sighed. "Only one pony can shake my door like that." She passed through her showroom, looking like a pony walking to the gallows, and on the doorstep was Applejack.

"Rarity." Applejack tipped her trademark Stetson and remembered to wipe her boots before entering. She was swathed in an old farm coat and thick leggings. "Ah see winter is finally here," she said without preamble, "and a nasty one too."

"Yes," said Rarity, without enthusiasm.

The farm pony gave Bryn a curt nod, not acknowledging his name as she had for her friend, and was clearly out of her element in Rarity's spacious showroom surrounded by racks of dresses. Rarity brought a cup of cocoa to her and Applejack accepted it. "Ah checked by Sugarcube Corner this mornin' and still no Pinkie, so Ah think we should get goin' as soon as we can."

She sipped at her mug as if it were the last hot chocolate left in Equestria, obviously in discomfort from so much steaming liquid passing down her throat, but from the way she paced back and forth across the showroom floor, it was the least of her worries. Something more than the whereabouts of Pinkie Pie was eating at the mare. At least Bryn thought so, and he didn't see how Rarity could miss it either. That is, unless said fashionista was preoccupied by re-styling her mane.

"Perhaps sweep these bangs forward today. Needs more lift." One of Rarity's many eccentricities was having a mirror (or two) in every room and the ability to use any reflective surface as a mirror. Not that she needed to check her perfect mane every few minutes but hay, it couldn't hurt. "Flawless," she purred, winking at her reflection.

"Rarity!"

"Oh. Umm…. sorry. Are we ready to go?"

Bryn chuckled and Rarity elbowed him.

---

Zecora's hut was, as Rarity remembered it, thirty minutes' walk from the Ponyville town square. Her forest road was the most trafficked part of the Everfree region. It received heavy use from overland wagons, migrant workers and the occasional cargo shipment; normally ponies used the railroads but in some cases couldn't afford the fare or simply wanted the anonymity of an out-of-the way route, especially if their presence was undesired in the settlements they traveled through. A certain great-and-powerful unicorn came to mind.

The zebra benefited from the traffic passing near her house, specifically the spice and dry goods traders that supplied her with some of her potion ingredients, and in turn provided aid to ponies who suffered hurts on the way. The largest wagon trains chose the Everfree trail because it was far quicker than skirting the forest's southern borders or attempting to navigate the swampy and craggy terrain in between Canterlot Peak and the river. Despite its dangers, one simply had to get past the woodlands to the Dragon Bridge, whose ancient stones provided the only easy way across the river for miles, and beyond the pass was Canterlot and the open plains. Heavily guarded wagon trains hardly worried about attacks, anyway. Many would hire specially trained security forces from Stalliongrad and plow right through any obstacles.

From the looks of things, recent traffic had been sparse.

Nopony had disturbed the trail out of Ponyville since last night's storm and it was a hindrance to the small party. Rather than trudge through the thickening drifts, Rarity bravely marched ahead of the others and used her magic to burn away the snow. She abandoned this strategy in minutes. Not only did the melted snow puddle up and cake her clothing in thick mud, but she lacked Twilight's magical fortitude, and the effort of maintaining the flames quickly exhausted her. Ignoring Applejack's amused snicker, she fell behind Bryn, whose long legs were an advantage.

"Melting snow is harder than sewing," she said defensively. Applejack snorted.

Applejack seemed to have no trouble breaking the trail. She waded forward, sometimes into drifts that reached her chest, and muscled it aside as if she was a ponified snowplow. Bryn took care to trample the snow and make Rarity's path easier, without even noticing he was doing it. Applejack, however, did.

"Coddle her some more, why don't ya?"

"Ummm…"

"If it's too hard ta come and look for our friend, why don't ya stay home, Rarity?" the farm pony growled. She lowered her ears and attacked the snow with unusual venom.

Bryn looked back at Rarity and found only an odd pained look. What the hell is going on between these two?

The snow thinned as soon as they reached the Everfree Forest's borders, although the temperatures worsened. Bryn pulled up his collar and kept his hands deep inside his coat. If I had a million dollars right now, I'd give it all for a pair of wool socks and insulated boots. There hadn't been time for Rarity to address his lack of wintertime footwear and all she could do was cast a water-repelling spell on his skate shoes. The damp chill clamped around his toes like a vise. Soon they would be hopelessly numb.

The ponies' muzzles were crusted with a hard frost. It was easy to 'zone out' as Bryn would put it, the mind-dulling process of one foot in front of the other, with no sounds other than labored breathing. All around him was a soundless snowglobe of winter beauty. It was beautiful, though, in the same way that a katana or a pit viper could be considered 'beautiful'. The trees were razor-sharp talons wrapped in white velvet. The ground beneath him was a bed of nails and snares covered in the finest linens. A single wrong step meant a twisted ankle or worse, and he mistrusted the branches that curved down from above to hang, sometimes only inches, above his head.

His companions kept their heads low, in order to watch the path and their own steps, but Bryn's attention was on his surroundings. With each step an uncertainty grew within him. It was the same feeling of snooping around his mom's bedroom or setting foot in an abandoned building- that he, Bryn Hansen, was unwanted in this forest. The sooner we find Zecora and get home, the better. I don't like this place at all.

Applejack turned back, perhaps to say something, and then everything exploded in a teeth-rattling roar of sound and flying splinters of wood. Rarity's scream came a millisecond too late.

As the mysterious object crushed the ground where Bryn had stood, it kicked up huge plumes of snow that turned the area into a ten-foot snowglobe of destruction. Neither pony noticed the telltale orange flash or the fact that Bryn crouched safely to the side of the path. Not at first, anyway.

"A piano? What the bucking hell?" snarled Applejack.

It was indeed a piano that had fallen from the sky. Rarity screamed and began ripping into the snow with levitation spells, thinking that Bryn lay pulped underneath the wreckage; Applejack looked upward to see a moving carriage, held aloft by four Pegasi, one of which was a familiar scatterbrained grey mare. The mare flew clumsily down to survey the wreckage of the grand piano. "Oh no…" If anything, her mismatched eyes grew more akimbo. "I don't know what went wrong."

Rarity turned on her. "Derpy, what were you thinking? You could have killed-"

"-Bryn?" Then she suddenly noticed his changed position. "How'd you get over there?"

Much like the incident on the playground so many years ago, he realized too late what he had just done.

But hey, I'm still alive. And it felt so much easier that time, easier than blinking or breathing. Just the tiniest hint in my brain and I phased.

Perhaps it was the strange Equestrian air that made his powers feel like a second skin. He hadn't noticed it at first, because of being chased by forest monsters and Rainbow Dash, respectively, but compared to his efforts back on Earth, it was faster and more intuitive by half. Of course, now as well as then, he phased in an emergency when the options were to phase or be crushed by nearly a ton of wood. He liked living.

Rarity looked at him with a combination of doubt and concern. "I thought you were crushed! How could you possibly have moved that fast? Unless you saw it first."

"Good reflexes."

"Maybe Rainbow Dash wasn't exaggerating when she said how fast you were." She moved to him and touched his chest, reassuring herself that he was indeed unhurt, and he briefly squeezed her hoof.

"I'm okay, sweetie."

The moving carriage settled onto the path and the Pegasi tried to salvage what pieces weren't hopelessly mangled. Derpy sat down in the snow and looked confused- admittedly not hard for her to do- but all three ponies had forgotten about Applejack. She looked from the piano to Bryn to Rarity and back, and with each second her eyes narrowed to angry slits.

It had already happened. The caring touches, the easy familiarity, the unspoken glances between them. Rarity had fallen for Bryn. Or Bryn had fallen for Rarity, and whichever it was, it was undeniable. Her friend cared more for a human than she did for her. Worse, a human who was (in her eyes) not who he pretended to be. Applejack's voice was low and deadly as she addressed Bryn.

"Only Rainbow Dash could have dodged that. Or Twilight with her fancy teleportin'. Since when can ya use magic an' teleport, Bryn?" She spat the word 'teleport' like a curse.

Oh fuck…

He took deep breaths and ignored the sudden cold sweat that advanced on him. "I saw the shadow and jumped out of the way. No human can use magic. It doesn't exist in our world."

"Then how come ya covered that much distance? An' that weird light… are ya hidin' somethin'?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Of course, he never was a good liar. Someone who lives their life by telling the truth will be very bad at it, although his lies were about his powers and nothing else. Then again Applejack was the Element of Honesty and could see through just about any liar.

Applejack let out her breath in an angry huff and advanced on Rarity. "For two days… you've been living with a bucking changeling and ya haven't had an inkling of what he really is?"

"I beg your pardon?" gasped the unicorn.

"He just teleported out of the path of that piano! He's got magic and whatever he is, he lied ta us!"

Covered in snow and mud and bits of wood, Rarity only stared. "Did I miss something? That thing almost kills Bryn and you're upset about him having magic? You're out of your saddle. He doesn't have any magic!" She nuzzled at his shoulder.

"Ah don't believe this. Ah just don't motherbucking believe this." She snarled, an animal growl of rage, and pushed against the snowbank. Rarity was quicker, though. A flash of azure magic caught Applejack's braided tail.

"All right. Whatever's making you act like a spoiled foal the past week, we're dealing with this right now. You've been short with everypony lately and downrightawful to Bryn. Is everything all right, Applejack?"

For a moment Bryn thought Applejack would attack Rarity. She marched right up to the unicorn and stared her down, eye to eye, as furious as Rarity had ever seen her. Then she spoke. "Ya truly want ta know if everything's all right? Fine, Ah'll tell ya. Everythin's the exact opposite of all right. Not that ya'd notice, with your new human best friend and your fancy clothes and all, with ya gettin' all prettied up and fawning over him when ya don't even know what he is. If ya cared about your real best friends, ya'd know that Granny Smith is losin' her mind, our apple harvests are ruined and this buckin' storm just got done tearin' apart our barn. Ya'd know that we're all slowly slippin' away from each other." She took a ragged breath. "Fluttershy's a recluse. Twi' hides in her library all day readin' old books and bein' afraid of her own shadow. RD can't even hang out anymore because she's so busy with all o' this bizarre weather. Pinkie's missin'. And you, you- you-"

There, in that silent oppressive clearing, surrounded by blasted tree limbs and snow and darkness, Applejack began to cry.

Rarity slowly placed a hoof on her friend's shoulder but the farm pony beat it away with surprising force. "Ah don't need your sympathy. Ah need ya to buck up and help me find Pinkie so Ah can get home an' take care of my own buckin' problems."

"Applejack, I…"

"SHUT UP!"

"We're friends!" Rarity cried, as the other mare began to walk away. "No matter what, the six of us can get through anything. Even this. We help each other with our problems."

"Until that night, that's what Ah thought too."

She attacked the trail, not bothering to look back to see if they were following. Rarity sniffed once and buried her head in Bryn's chest. "I've let her down. She needed me and I let her down."

"What do we do now?" said Derpy. She kicked at the broken piano strings littering the ground. "I never meant to hurt anypony." The other three Pegasi harnessed to the wagon shook their heads in disappointment.

Somewhere in Equestria, the owner of a very valuable grand piano would soon be having a much worse day than they were.

Bryn watched as Applejack tramped farther and farther away. There's something else going on between these two... it can't be as simple as all that. But he bent down and kissed her forehead, just above her horn, and held her as she continued to sob. "What's really going on between you and Applejack?"

"It's a long story. Maybe we can talk about it later."

"You mean after we freeze to death from standing out here? Deal." They followed in the hoofprints that Applejack had made.

Soon they crested a small ridge and reached the trailhead where the zebra made her home. The sight of Zecora's clearing might have lifted their spirits had they not been cold and angry and depressed. The cottage sat under two inches of glittering snow and looked quite inviting despite all the dangers of the forest surrounding it, and the urgency of locating Pinkie put their past strife temporarily to the side.

"Zecora!" called Applejack. "Are ya home?"

They came up to the front door and Bryn knocked, three times. When no eccentric zebra opened the door and greeted them in rhymes, Applejack nosed the door handle. It was locked.

"Hey Rarity, can you fix this door if Ah kick it down?"

"Well… I suppose so. My repair spells are a tad rusty, but if it is an emergency-"

BANG went Applejack's jackhammer back hooves against the door. She burst inside, ignoring Rarity and the detritus of splintered wood littering the entryway. "Zecora? Pinkie? Is anypony home?"

Rarity was the first to notice the handwritten note pinned to the wall opposite the door. She magicked it over and read aloud.

This forest has become a dangerous tomb,

Full of shadows and creeping gloom.

Zecora has returned to her native land

With warmth and safety in its desert sands.

This dwelling I leave to any passerby

In need of a haven when the moon is high.

But take care, dear traveler, when you are alone

The limbs of the trees have a mind of their own.

"Can she write a more creepy poem?" said Bryn, looking over Rarity's shoulder at the cryptic lines.

Applejack looked at the interior of the house that was, until quite recently, Zecora's. Gone were the masks and woven wall hangings and all the artifacts of her native land, and gone were the racks of exotic herbs and spices. Those herbs- and Zecora's remarkable knowledge- had cured the poison joke and the cutie pox. No doubt she had done similar acts of kindness for countless other ponies. And now there was no trace of her.

The hut was as empty as the snowy clearing in which it stood, save for a broken basket that lay in one corner like a deflated hoofball. Applejack turned to Rarity and fresh tears were flowing down her cheeks. Tears, not of anger, but anguish. "Where's Pinkie?" she choked out. "Where else would she be?"

Since the party of the previous night that went awry, their plan had hinged on finding Pinkie here, waiting out the bad weather. Now they were back to square one. "I don't know," said Rarity.

Falling onto her haunches, Applejack let out a strangled sob. "Why is this happenin'? What are we goin' to do now? Go back to Ponyville and let our friends know that Pinkie's missin' and most likely-" and she cried harder, not being able to verbalize the thought that was on her and Bryn's mind.

Pinkie Pie, lost? Pinkie Pie- dead?

Rarity was silent and Bryn inscrutable. Finally he said, "Back in my world, if someone's missing, you call the police. Is there any kind of sheriff or law in Ponyville?"

"There's the mayor and the town security, but-"

"Then we go back to town and tell them that something bad happened to Pinkie and that everyone- I mean everypony- should keep an eye out for her. We put posters on every street corner."

"How can ya even think that?" growled Applejack, rounding on Bryn. "Actin' like she's gone when we don't know for sure?"

Rarity spoke up, tremulously. "There's nothing else we can do. She's missing and now Zecora is gone. Unless you have a better idea."

The snarl that escaped Applejack's lips was like that of an angry lion. "All o' this started ta happen after that human got here. Did ya do somethin' to Pinkie Pie?"

"Applejack, you can't possibly think-"

"You've driven a wedge between my friends an' in my book, you're a changeling freak who don't belong here. Ah think it's time for ya to leave. Now."

She punctuated each word with a brutal stomp of her hooves. Bryn, having been in many standoffs and standoffs that turned into full-blown fights, felt a tremor of fear as he stared into Applejack's narrowed eyes. It had felt different when he got down and dirty with Rainbow Dash. The Pegasus had only been looking out for her friends, and rightly so. The pony in front of him-

-legitimately hated him. He could see it in those green eyes, narrowed like a cat's, and the ears pinned flat against her head.

"What exactly did I do to make you hate me so much?"

"Get out, right NOW!"

"APPLEJACK!" Rarity thundered, in a voice much too loud and deep for such a delicate pony. Magic was at work here. "Bryn was with me last night when Pinkie disappeared! If you're accusing him, you're accusing me too! You're a better pony than this!"

The farm pony stood her ground, snorting and stamping at the floorboards, caught between Bryn's silence and Rarity's unexpected fury. Then Rarity did something even more unexpected. She let the voice amplification spell fade back into her horn, walked right up to her enraged friend and embraced her. It must have been a shock to Applejack as well, because she didn't push Rarity off. "I know the real reason you're upset and it has nothing to do with Pinkie Pie. Please, Applejack… we need to deal with this, and right now isn't the time. Let's go back to town and let the Mayor know that Pinkie is missing. Hopefully Twilight let the Princess know and she'll bring her royal guard to help."

"An' who gets ta go home ta a wrecked barn an' a scared family an' somehow last through the winter without all the apples that the storm made off with?"

"Then we'll all help you rebuild it. Won't we, Bryn?"

"If you need help, I'll be there."

"See? No matter what happens, we're all still friends and friends help each other."

Bryn unclenched his fists. He hadn't realized he had clenched them to begin with. As they left Zecora's empty hut behind, he wiped beads of sweat from his brow.

Today he had brushed dangerously close to disaster and lived to tell the tale. The moment he had lived the past eight years in fear of had come to pass: somepony witnessed his phase and confronted him about it. It didn't help that the pony was Applejack. Never had he feared for his life as he had in that cabin, confronted by a pony made of pure muscle with an irrational hatred fueling her actions. If Rarity wasn't there…

If Rarity wasn't there, I don't know what would have happened. One of us would be dead because Applejack would never stop until I was as broken as that piano. Is Rarity sticking up for me as a friend or as something more?

She cared for him. That much was obvious.

He was also caught in a weird feud between Applejack and Rarity and, sooner or later, the volcano simmering under the surface would erupt.

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE BLACK STALLION

October 11

The 6:45 train from Ponyville rattled into Canterlot Station and stopped in front of the platform, belching smoke and steam in copious clouds. Mingling with the noise of all the disembarking ponies were the clanks and hisses of the rapidly cooling steam engine as it sat in the biting wintry air. Porters shouted orders back and forth. The crowd rattled suitcases and chattered and hailed taxis; their collective breath, and the locomotive's spirals of smoke, drifted upward in lazy puffs of such clarity that there was no doubt about the subzero temperatures.

The spotlessly clean station was lit by lights that were uniquely Canterlot. First manufactured and patented by Benjamin Flanklin over a hundred years ago, they used a chamber of mirrors that magnified each candle flame within and threw brilliance in all directions. It looked as if the station had its own constellation of miniature stars floating above it. This was rush-hour wintertime Canterlot at its finest. The ponies out at this hour, braving the cold, were warmly bundled but still managed to turn heavy coats and chunky rubber boots into haute couture. A bangle here, a few extra feathers there, and even Rarity's best designs were rivaled by a few of these outfits. Twilight and Rainbow Dash, in plain sweaters, looked very underdressed.

Besides the commuters, the station was also swarming with a mixed force of Canterlot police and other ponies, clad in archaic plate armor, that Rainbow didn't recognize.

"I don't remember this much security," said Rainbow Dash as they stepped out of the passenger car. "Look at all these police! There's even more than at the wedding. Do you think something's going on?"

Twilight let out a little gasp. "Princess Luna's elite guards are here too. See the black armor? They must be here to escort somepony important."

These were heavily armed and helmeted earth ponies and each one carried a short but deadly broad-bladed spear strapped to his back. No doubt these stallions knew how to use them well. Unlike Princess Celestia's personal forces, who showed their rank with medals or lavish breastplates, Luna's commanders simply wore more armor.

Even as she said it, Twilight thought the guards swarming the platform didn't look like they were assigned to escort duty. Only a ruler of a neighboring country would warrant this much heavy security (or Sapphire Shores on another one of her high-profile tours) and there certainly hadn't been any dignitaries on the train. The guards' grim faces and focused patterns meant they were actively searching for something. Or watching for something suspicious.

" 'Important' not meaning us," said Dash. Her wings slowly beat the air as she hovered at Twilight's side. "Did you let the Princess know we were coming?"

Rainbow Dash noticed the long silence before Twilight answered. She tried to cover the gap by fussing over her suitcase as the red-uniformed valet pony set it on the ground beside her; instead, she ended up tripping over the suitcase and landing on her face. "I wrote a letter to Princess Celestia two days ago. Maybe she's just busy with the Court and with whatever's going on up north of the Crystal Mountains. In her last letter, all she told me was that there were disturbances." Blushing furiously, she lifted her bag and tried to look dignified.

"Relax, Twilight. You're not the one on trial here." Unlike her unicorn friend, Rainbow Dash carried no luggage in the hope that the hearing, scheduled to happen in exactly twenty minutes, would be short and she could return home soon.

She wasn't sure exactly what to expect. Being a law-abiding Pegasus (Sonic Rainboom-related damage and noise violations notwithstanding), she had never been on the wrong side of Cloudsdale's police department. She would never admit to Twilight that she was internally shaking with fright. What happens if the court decides I'm guilty of whatever they're accusing me of? Will I be locked up somewhere and not be able to see my friends again?

Well, if I get locked up, at least I won't need any luggage. She laughed humorlessly at the thought.

It had dogged her on the long train ride to Canterlot. The engineers went at a slow pace because of adverse weather, and while Twilight babbled on about a new defensive spell she had been practicing, Rainbow brooded. Each pony dealt with stress and uncertainty in different ways. Rainbow internalized it while Twilight expelled it all in a verbal torrent. After three hours cooped up in a train car, listening to the unicorn go on and on about coherent light and sympathetic harmonics, she was ready to give up and fly home. The crippling butterflies in her stomach hadn't helped either. They had bought alfalfa and wheatgrass sandwiches from the snack car and the food sat like a lead weight in her gut.

So she hovered slowly next to Twilight, taking deep breaths of the chill alpine air and silently reminding herself of her own awesomeness. She was Rainbow Dash, after all. The most awesome of ponies. Surely she could survive tonight.

Canterlot Station was bustling with rush-hour traffic. Workers from Trottingham and Vanhoover were catching their evening train home; family members laughed and embraced and lugged heavy bags through the thick crowd. Once outside the station and up the steps to Saddle Street, they found a two-seater taxicarriage parked by the curb and Twilight addressed the stout stallion pulling it. "Can you take us to the Palace?"

"You an' everypony else headin' for the Palace tonight," he answered, in a gruff Stalliongrad accent. "Must be somethin' big. Hold on tight." He swept out into the crowded street and began the steady climb through Canterlot's wide cobblestone thoroughfares. The skyscrapers above threw long shadows.

The city was laid out in concentric rings which narrowed as one ascended the peak, and was both a way of maximizing the usable cityspace on the mountain and of reinforcing the figurative power of the nobility and royalty. This was not to say that those on the lower levels were not noble. It did, however, prove that ponies who lived closer to the Palace were more noble (at least in their minds) than others, and ridiculously rich. Here were the compounds of wealthy traders, doctors, aristocrats, and very old unicorn families, some of whose money came from a time in Equestrian history when wealth meant the exploitation of less fortunate ponies.

Celestia's reign had abolished slavery hundreds of years ago. There was a royal decree that to put a fellow pony in bondage and enrich oneself from their suffering meant a long prison sentence. Still, Canterlot's upper classes included the descendants of slaveholders who enjoyed their ancestors' ill-gotten money and squandered it on high fashion and entertainment and parties in the seedy Undercity districts (with armed personal security, of course).

It was dusk, although a very cold one, and the last golden light was dying as Princess Celestia lowered the sun. Soon it would be moonrise. The lamplighter ponies had already lit Canterlot's vast network of streetlamps. Luckily the skies tonight were clear, but Rainbow was glad of the thick clothing she wore because the windchill cut into her like a knife encased in dry ice. Twilight, on the other hand, knew this weather well. When in her parents' flat and later in her own apartment adjoining the library, she loved to be in her warm bedroom, a cup of tea between her hooves, watching the wind blow. Snow was rare in Canterlot because of the jetstream patterns trained on it year-round. Wind or no wind, Undercity or Upper Canterlot, winters were always cold.

Their taxi stallion bounced along and cursed thickly at ponies in the way. Neither mare talked during the ride. Ironically, each was wrapped up in their own worry and blind to the suffering of the other. Rainbow Dash watched towering tenements flash by and imagined the worst-case scenarios for the trial; Twilight nearly hyperventilated at the mere thought of being with her Princess again, and if her heart beat any faster its frantic thumps might become audible.

When they reached the palace gates, two Pegasi in jet-black Night Guard armor stopped them. One stood a full sixteen inches taller than Twilight and could probably toss the unicorn as easily as tossing a feather pillow. "State your name and purpose, citizen," he stated in a stern voice. "Be quick about it."

"Twilight Sparkle, of Ponyville. Holder of the Element of Magic and here escorting Rainbow Dash, also of Ponyville and an Element holder, to her trial appointment."

These two carried evil-looking axes instead of spears, and they swept them aside to let the carriage pass. "Thank you, citizen. Park to the left and somepony will see you in."

"I still know how to use my 'official voice.' Long years of running errands for the Princess," said Twilight. Rainbow Dash laughed, but her heart wasn't in it, and Twilight put a hoof on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be over in a few minutes. Luna is just and she'll see you've done nothing wrong."

"Are you coming with me?"

"I need to find Princess Celestia and let her know about all this. When the trial's over, just wait for me in the foyer." Twilight pulled Rainbow into a quick hug. "You'll be fine."

"If you say so." Looking like somepony heading to her execution, Rainbow Dash hopped from the taxicab and walked up to the main entrance of the Palace, along a walkway lined with Night Guards standing at attention. She walked, not because walking allowed for more time before the inevitable, but because she didn't trust her wings. They trembled like dried leaves in a windstorm. The militaristic bearing of these ponies should have made her feel safe here. It didn't.

It was like the Young Fliers' Competition all over again. A crowd of ponies would be set up for the sole purpose of watching her fall.

Another guard pony took her name and escorted her through shining white marble halls now decorated in black and blue velvet hangings, and eventually into the throne room. At least the Palace was well heated and she felt sorry for the sentries stuck at their posts outside. Rainbow Dash had been in this towering space three times before: once for the Gala, once for the meeting of the Element holders concerning Discord, and once for the royal wedding. Never had it looked so austere and almost barbarian.

Thick black drapes covered every window, admitting no light except that provided by the tapers on the walls. A deep blue carpet led across the crowded space to the throne which sat filled with a dour indigo alicorn. For a moment, the Princess of the Night looked a little like her nightmarish avatar. She sported an unadorned silver breastplate and matching greaves with a trailing cloak of pure black. Completing her look was a slender metal band on her brow, and the result was pure godly intimidation. Luna shifted on the throne and held her regal head high and, in that instant, looked much more than a Princess. She looked like a primordial goddess of battle. She truly looked like an alicorn.

Twilight told me that both sisters are well over a thousand years old and were the ones that put an end to Discord. In that getup, it's not hard to believe. The only thing keeping her from looking like Nightmare Moon reborn was the lack of a helmet.

With each step the throne seemed to grow in proportion to the blue Pegasus. Now she stood in the front row of ponies and was scarcely ten feet away from the ruler of the night who, from the sounds of the proceedings, had only just arrived and was in a volatile mood. At least I'm not late. Twilight would never forgive me.

"Attention!" thundered Darkmane, his eyes narrowed under the helmet. "The Night Court will now come to order! All stand for Her Royal Highness, PRINCESS LUNA!"

As one, the ponies stood and inclined their heads respectfully.

"The royal bailiff, Fresh Parchment!" From the left door hobbled a very old unicorn with bent knees and a papery white mane. There was, however, nothing wrong with his voice, which carried clearly across the chamber. "Tonight's order of business will now be heard. All interested parties please step forward."

Apparently her case was not the first on tonight's list. She wormed through the crowd and found a space at the end of the row, close to the curtains where her bright mane and tail would not draw too much attention, and listened to the bailiff read off the opening procedures.

"Case number four hundred and eighty four: Straight Edge v. the city of Rio de Janeighro!"

A snow-white stallion with amber mane was escorted to the podium by two guards. His cutie mark was a pocket calculator and a pencil. He must have been known to at least some Canterlot residents, because a low chorus of boos followed him across the room and one or two actually shouted insults in his direction. Rainbow Dash craned her neck for a better look at him. She couldn't remember ever seeing a more dejected pony.

He's cute though, thought Dash, looking closer. The earth pony had a strong, honest bearing and was of proud build, with sharply defined features and deep blue eyes, but those eyes were pointed at the floor and the rest of him followed suit. Everything about him hung- his head, his mane, his hooves- they sagged like a tree collapsing under the weight of snowfall. As he took the podium, he slowly looked up at Luna with disinterest. He paid her no more attention than a used tissue and soon his head drooped down to the floor once more, although his eyes darted nervously to and fro as if he had something to hide.

"Straight Edge!" said Luna sharply.

He jerked as if horsewhipped, looking wildly up at her. "I won't tell you anything!"

"We shall see. Do you know why you are here tonight?"

But the stallion was focused on something, or somepony, that was not his Princess. He held a hoof out as if shaking an invisible one and began to converse animatedly with thin air. "It's an honor to meet you, sir, and I promise I won't let you down. It's awfully generous of you to promote me to junior accountant and I'm afraid I'm a little underqualified for the position-"

"You are here," said the Princess at alarming volume, "because the courts of Rio de Janeighro commuted your sentence in exchange for a fine of a hundred thousand bits and the assurance that you would accept their ruling. You spent some of that money on a legal team to further appeal the case."

"I assure you, I'll have that quarterly report on your desk by Friday morning. As to the financial statements, they're on hold until our Ponyville branch gets caught up on its reports, which could be as early as next week. Something about running out of ink, which is odd because there is a writing supply store right across the street! It sells sofas too, if I remember right, because Filthy Rich was the pony that financed their loan and he invited me to the dedication. A very fine pony. He's a close personal friend of mine, and-" He rambled on and on, as if he was in a business meeting and not on trial before a very irritated alicorn.

Luna took a deep breath. The supernatural roar of sound she then produced made Rainbow Dash's eardrums shake.

"SILENCE!"

It was her Royal Canterlot Voice, delivered in anger and loud enough to vibrate the curtains. The stallion shrieked and stared in terror at Luna. Many ponies in the crowd covered their ears.

"You are here because there is no higher legal authority than my sister and I. Regardless of what shady tactics your lawyers use, the fact remains that you killed a family of three for no further reason, apparently, besides them being in your way."

The crowd let out a united gasp. For the first time, he held Luna's gaze. "It wasn't my fault." His voice trailing off into a whisper, he gasped, "He told me that the only way to make it stop was to give him three lives…"

Luna, apparently, did not catch his muttered words. She read from a piece of paper handed to her by the bailiff. "You were found in a Rio alley, a bloody knife by your side, with which you cut your own hoof after using it to murder three defenseless ponies. The blood on the knife was later proven to be that of Jasmine Bouquet, of Trottingham, who was in the city visiting her mother and older sister. All three were found dead in their home from multiple stab wounds."

Rainbow Dash could feel a creeping uneasy sensation going through the assembled ponies around her. It was quite separate from the butterflies in her stomach. Was it because these were ordinary Canterlot citizens to which the words murder, blood or stab were horrid concepts better left in Equestria's violent distant past, and now were brought to light? Or was it Princess Luna's full power being brought to bear on a stallion clearly in need of mental help? Something was just off about him. He wrung his hooves and uttered non sequiturs, but his eyes were the windows to whatever suffering had him in its iron grip. Every small sound or motion brought out a cry of terror or fearful twitch.

"I told him no! But he wouldn't listen! The screaming! Oh Celestia, make it stop!" He rolled piteously on the floor.

"Celestia is not here. If you expect justice, it lies with me."

"Everywhere I look, right there waiting…" His eyes were wide and startlingly white, and a thin string of drool was at his lips. "A stallion. Black mane, black coat, and white face. Not a face. Just a kind of shadow where the face should be. His voice in my mind. He told me that the pain would stop if I just did what he said. What would you have done?"

"You're talking nonsense," put in the bailiff. "You stand accused on three counts of murder and one count of evading the law. What say you in your defense?"

"What would you have done?" the poor pony repeated, much louder than before. He was screaming now. "I couldn't sleep! Or eat! With that horrible face always looking at me-"

"Describe this stallion to me," said Luna.

"I told you, there isn't one! There's no face but the eyes are always watching and they never blink-"

"So your defense is that a faceless pony told you to murder three ponies, and then go about your life as if nothing was wrong?"

"My reputation is at stake here, sir," he raved, once again talking to the air. "Those ponies at Lockheed Maretin are cooking the books. They're just making up numbers and plugging them into the balance sheet. If I sign off on this, I'll be just as red-hooved as they are. I mean… airships are a new technology, and in high demand, but there's no way in Equestria that they could bring in ten million bits in pure revenue." He alternated between his two monologues, and to those standing in the back of the room it sounded like two ponies arguing: one, spouting meaningless financial jargon, and the other, distraught over being watched by… something.

By this time, the crowd was completely silent. Every eye was on him and the unease in the room became greater with each second.

Luna took a deep breath, remembering her sister's advice on dealing with frustrating ponies, and for the first time since addressing the accused her voice gained a softer quality. "Since you give no reason why you killed three innocent ponies, I begin to think that you are trying to escape your guilt or distraught over what actually did happen. Was there another at work, perhaps this 'black stallion', somepony that you are in fear of and whom blamed you for the crimes?"

"Don't you understand? There is no one else. Only me and him! That- thing! It's not a pony and it can't be argued with or fought or stopped or evaded!" Like a filly, he fell to the floor and sobbed. "I had to kill them!"

"You are only admitting your guilt, citizen. However, you are clearly not of sound mind and you will be placed in the dungeon, under guard, until the police can do a more thorough investigation or such time as it takes for you come to your senses." Luna looked almost remorseful as she uttered the sentence. "No harm will come to you and no stain placed on your character until this court knows the full truth."

"NO! YOU'RE NOT LOCKING ME UP!" he bellowed. The change in his character was frightening. Before, he had groveled on the podium in front of Luna, and now he flew to his feet and shook his hoof in her direction. Spittle flew from his foaming mouth. "If I'm locked up then he'll know exactly where to find me and then he'll kill me too!"

"I will personally see to it that a physician is provided to you in your cell. Perhaps under supervision?" she added, almost as an afterthought, and glanced at Darkmane. The gargantuan stallion nodded silently.

Four of Luna's guards moved, as one, toward the podium and began to steer the gibbering stallion toward the side door. Then the unthinkable happened. He uttered a scream of rage that might have been believable coming from a manticore, or perhaps a Hydra, or a dragon having his scales torn out one by one. Twisting and fighting like a cornered snake, he wrenched free of the guards and launched himself at the Princess.

The alicorn sitting in the throne simply swatted him away like an annoying fly. She flicked a spell in his direction, not even moving her head more than an inch, but even at her distance Rainbow Dash felt the roots of her mane stand up from its force.

Cartwheeling into the air like a puppet, the stallion fell with a sickening crunch on the stone. It was over in a second, before many in the crowd could even see it, and he lay motionless with his coat feebly smoking from the power of Luna's spell.

"Next case!" cried Fresh Parchment, and began to read out its name- the very one Rainbow had traveled to Canterlot to attend- even before two guards dragged the limp pony away, and underneath him was a smear of bright red blood from his shattered muzzle. He had taken the curse full-force in his face.

Somepony close to the stained carpeting screamed shrilly. Five feet away from the podium, Rainbow Dash's whole body trembled.

She had heard it said that in a fight between three equally skilled members of each pony race, a unicorn would always be superior. The magic of a unicorn could never be equaled even with Pegasi reflexes or earth pony strength. And then there was an alicorn, gifted with all three and with the magical talent of a hundred unicorns.

My dad used to say that it wasn't right for the Princesses to rule over the rest of us. Everypony thought he was crazy, but maybe he was on to something. What's keeping her from using all of that power in the wrong way?

Why, the Elements, of course.

The thought of being on the receiving end of that spell with only a magical necklace as protection- even with Twilight and her friends backing her up- made a shiver go down her spine. I'd much rather do a Rainboom, with both my wings tied, than be a part of that.

When her name was called, she joined four other Pegasi on the slightly raised platform set up a few paces from Luna's throne. She noticed the others' awed gasps at her presence and blushed; no doubt they had heard of her flying prowess. However, now was not the time to play the celebrity, even if the temptation was strong.

The younger Princess looked even more fearsome up close. Her flawless features, frown included, could have been carved from marble. There was nothing of the shy alicorn bobbing for apples on the last Nightmare Night in Ponyville. Had something happened to change her demeanor so radically? Rainbow dared to look directly up at her. How a pony could be both feminine and terrifying was beyond her mind, at any rate, yet what caught her eye was the state of Luna's attire. The form-fitting silver armor bore dents and battle scars; the cloak was tattered and had distinct burn marks all over it, as if she had lost a wrestling match with a dragon.

"Rainbow Dash," said Luna tonelessly, cutting through Rainbow's thoughts of why her Princess looked so rough. "The weather manager of Ponyville. It is good that you have come and more importantly, citizen, that you have come on time. A quality lacking in some Pegasi."

Was that a compliment? It's hard to tell when she sounds that upset, and after she used that stallion as target practice. "I… got the notice in the mail. Wouldn't miss it."

Luna leaned forward and regarded her with interest. "To be clear, you are not on trial. You were called to offer testimony and insight into recent events." Her magnificent head turned to Rainbowshine, who stood meekly to Rainbow's left. "Do you and your fellow ponies still hold by the accusations you leveled in the last session?

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Would you be so kind as to repeat your charge against the weather department of Vanhoover, that you brought before us last Monday?"

The Pegasus turned to face the crowd, clearing her throat nervously, and finally plucked up the courage. "Well… two Fridays ago, Cloudsdale got hit by a rogue thunder cloud and… you've probably seen the papers. It hit the hospital and an apartment building in the Cirrus District. A filly died and a few others are still in critical condition from the fire." She looked from Luna to Rainbow Dash to her companions. "That storm cloud wasn't one we made at the weather factory. Somepony let it get loose, from somewhere."

"And so you think Vanhoover did it?" asked Rainbow Dash flatly. "How do you know?"

"We don't! But where else could it have come from? It hit the north side of the city which means that it blew south, or somehow slipped through our airspace."

"So whose weather department is incompetent?" Stardancer jeered.

"As to the second possibility," said Luna, "Rainbow Dash has been summoned. Rainbow Dash, did your weather department allow any storm clouds to break loose from their formations within the last three weeks?"

"Not that I know of. But I know that things have been, well, weird. Especially around the Everfree Forest. We had a storm come out of nowhere last night, and with wind like I've never seen before."

The other four ponies, glaring at each other and muttering in low voices, missed the sudden change in Luna's posture. Rainbow Dash didn't. She noticed that her Princess stiffened when the words 'Everfree Forest' were out of her mouth. Luna sat straighter in her throne and now spoke directly to her, with a frown that was enough to melt metal. The alicorn almost sounded as if she was readying another curse to use on her.

"Citizen, you know as well as I do that storms do not come out of nowhere. Your jurisdiction ends at the Unicorn Range, correct?"

"Um, yeah. From Ponyville to the ocean, north of the river and up to the forest borders."

"Then it would seem that more is going on around the Everfree Forest than has been revealed." Let these clueless ponies make of that what they will, Luna thought. "My guard has inspected the Vanhoover records and it is my ruling that the ponies of that department are not at fault. Rainbow Dash, you are of good character, and if your stellar management record is to be believed, your department would not allow such lax standards either. My sister's student vouched for you, at any rate."

She let that sink in before she continued. "As to Cloudsdale: the royal treasury will match the outlay of Cloudsdale to repair and compensate for the storm's damage. It is also the court's ruling that all Pegasi handling thunderheads pay extra care from this night forward and avoid the vicinity of the forest until it is ruled safe. I repeat, stay out of the forest."

The bailiff's staff cracked against the floor like a horsewhip, and Rainbow Dash let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. So I can go now? she thought, as the other Pegasi vacated the stand. Before I get cursed?

Just then, the throne room's doors burst inward with a crash. Two Pegasi, one of Celestia's rank-and-file footsoldiers and the other one of her own elite guard, galloped across to their Princess. "What is the meaning of this untimely interruption?" she exclaimed. "Explain yourselves!"

"There's been an- incident- in the Undercity, your Majesty. Something terrible. It is probably best explained on the way." The Sun Guard removed his helmet and bowed respectfully, revealing a tan coat and messy bright blue mane. He was obviously ill at ease and upset by the message he carried. Luna could see it, as plain as written words, in his eyes.

"What is your name, soldier?"

"Flash Sentry, at your service, Princess."

"And why did you not follow the chain of command and bring this to the attention of your Commander, Shining Armor, instead of disrupting these proceedings?"

The other Pegasus, head lowered to the floor, spoke up in a deep voice. "Apologies, Excellency, for our abrupt intrusion. The situation is one of rage."

Luna leapt to her hooves as if electrocuted. "Are you certain of this?"

"Yes, Princess. There is no doubt."

'Rage' was, of course, a code word. One that Luna knew well. It was one of six such code words- rage, cruelty, selfishness, betrayal, deceit, and pride- used by her and her sister to refer to the Elements of Harmony in mixed company. It wasn't as if the Elements were the strictest of state secrets, although only a pony well versed in Equestrian history would know more than the name. Nevertheless, they were magical objects of unknown true power and, along with the identities of their owners, were kept secret from any would-be assailants. Her sister advocated for their secrecy and it was the only suggestion of Celestia's that she wholeheartedly supported. The six mares were, as she never got tired of telling Celestia, only mortal ponies. An Element of Harmony was no armor against an assassin's blade.

If the Elements fall, we all fall. Equestria falls.

Each word was the antithesis of the Element it represented. 'Rage' meant Happiness, the element held by- Pinkie Pie. The crazy one in the chicken costume, on Nightmare Night. Are my worst fears coming true? Is somepony attacking the Element holders?

"Very well. Tonight's Court is dismissed and will resume at the scheduled time tomorrow night. Flash Sentry and the rest of my guard, with me." She tossed her flowing mane and rose from her throne; as one, the soldiers formed a phalanx around her. As an afterthought she said, "Rainbow Dash. I feel you have had a trying night, but you also have a stake in Equestrian security concerns and a duty to defend it. If this news is true, it will concern you too."

She crossed the distance between them and now stood nearly face-to-face with the smaller pony. Luna's muzzle lowered to Rainbow Dash's ear and she spoke in hushed tones, so that only she could hear. "One of the Elements may be in danger. Fly now with me to the Undercity."

Not up to last chapter's standards, but hey, midterms are a bitch. #13 will be up soon.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: WE ARE ONE

October 11

"I still know how to use my 'official voice.' Long years of running errands for the Princess," said Twilight. Rainbow Dash laughed, but her heart wasn't in it, and Twilight put a hoof on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be over in a few minutes. Luna is just and she'll see you've done nothing wrong."

"Are you coming with me?"

"I need to find Princess Celestia and let her know about all this. When the trial's over, just wait for me in the foyer." Twilight pulled Rainbow into a quick hug. "You'll be fine."

"If you say so."

---

The middle-aged mare at the reception desk smiled at Twilight with the sort of sympathetic matronly smile that always accompanies bad news, as if such smiles and soothing tones make such news any easier to bear. "I am sorry to report that Her Majesty is away on official business. Please wait in the foyer or you can leave your contact information with me and I will inform you, via owl, when she has returned."

"Do you know when she'll be back? I'm Twilight Sparkle, her student." Her lover. I have important news for her."

"Princess Luna was to handle her official duties in her absence; unfortunately, the emergency was such that Princess Luna was also called away. Temporary governance of the kingdom was left in the hooves of Commander Shining Armor and Princess Cadance. Beyond that I cannot tell you."

Upon seeing Twilight's crestfallen face, she said kindly, "I shouldn't be worried, dear. The Princess is never late to her engagements. Short-tempered, perhaps, but never late."

Which left Twilight with no other option but to sit on the cold stone bench beside the gilded doors and wait.

She hated to wait. Waiting meant wasted time; wasted time meant time that could be used for studying or reading or spell practice or friendship studies; and once wasted, that time was lost forever. The only thing worse than lost time was being late. To Twilight, 'tardy' was a more vile word than the foulest obscenity.

Waiting wasn't so bad as long as there were friends with whom she could laugh and converse and pass the time. Books were the next best thing. At the moment, she had neither, and had only her thoughts and worries to keep her company.

The news of Princess Luna's absence was troubling. Was there a threat great enough to require the presence of both Princesses? She was left second-guessing herself. Princess Luna, for all she knew, had not returned to Canterlot either. Maybe Rainbow Dash was likewise waiting for her trial to begin. Twilight missed Celestia so much that it was causing a dull ache deep in her chest, and hearing her brother's and Cadance's names made that ache unbearable.

Minutes passed. Then half-hours. She tucked her legs in and wrapped her tail around herself, protecting what warmth she could, and let out a deep sigh. It was not exactly comfortable in the vaulted foyer. The circular fire grates roared merrily, but most of the heat wafted up to the ceilings and the stone sucked away what meager body heat she imparted to it. However, even without Celestia's presence, this place represented safety to Twilight. The whole Palace was a second home to her; if she couldn't feel safe here, where could she? Its thick stone walls had stood for the better part of a millennium. The vigilance of the guards was unceasing. Within this bastion of light, nothing would harm her.

She never intended to fall asleep, though.

Sleep, considering the amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins, should have been impossible. Maybe it was the fact that, for over five days now, Twilight had barely slept. Fluttershy's sleep problems- nighttime shrieking, sleepwalking, and muttering strange phrases, to name a few- hadn't rubbed off on Twilight, but it was two days since her Pegasus friend had decided to sleep in her own cottage and ever since then, sleep was elusive. The thoughts swarming through her brain gnawed at her like venomous ants.

Miracles can be worked with enough coffee and a tad of makeup to hide the dark circles. She hid the fatigue well, although insomnia cannot be delayed indefinitely, and it catches up in its own good time. Taken together, the sounds of wind howling at the stained glass windows and the fires' crackling produced a susurrant rhythm. The fatigue and mental stress suddenly hit her like an oncoming train and the security of the Palace broke down the last psychological barriers. It would have made no difference if the bench had been lined with nails. For an unknown amount of time, Twilight Sparkle was dead to the world, and slept right through a sudden commotion at the door. The hall rang with voices and the echo of hooves.

"Manehatten reports that seventy-five percent of the fires are contained. They are using the police force's two airships as converted water tankers for the moment, until more resources arrive from Baltimare." This was a deep, authoritative stallion's voice.

"Has Princess Luna returned?" A mare now spoke. "I lost track of her when the fourth dragon entered the fray."

A second mare, her voice soft and musical, joined in. "She is currently in Night Court, as of five minutes ago, and unhurt, although in a very touchy mood. I offered to calm her magically but she would have none of it and rushed to her appointment."

"Luna was always the superior combatant," said the first mare, somewhat ruefully. "Her ice spells were magical perfection. I would hate to be on the receiving end of her temper in Court tonight, however. That dragon can attest to its ferocity. Or it would, if it still lived."

"Are you unhurt as well, Princess?"

"I suppose a burnt cloak and armor are the least of my worries… the tail will likewise heal in time." She laughed tersely. "The magnificent Princess Celestia with half of her tail missing. Let the ponyrazzi form their own interpretation, I suppose."

"They'll see that their Princesses put their lives on the line to defend Equestria," the stallion argued. "Doing what is right and necessary. I'd like to see them defend a city from four dragons without a single pony's life lost. Fifty of the best guards couldn't have done it better."

"Right now, what is right and necessary is getting out of this armor. The dragonfire was not kind to it. Shining Armor, would you be so kind as to send the royal armorer to my chambers? I'm afraid the breastplate will need repair. Also, inform the mayor of Manehatten and the chief of police that our airship fleet is at their disposal for as long as is necessary. Send two with medical supplies and what security we can spare. Where there is chaos, looting follows close on its heels."

"At once, Your Highness."

Shining Armor's iron-clad hooves receded across the room and nopony noticed the unicorn curled up in the corner. The two alicorns stood near one of the braziers, where the chill of the stone chamber was tempered, and conversed in low tones.

"I think you underestimate your own skills," soothed Cadance. "I could never hope to master such magic. To think about all those poor ponies in Manehatten that would have roasted to death if you hadn't reached the city in time. And if the scouts hadn't called in the dragon sighting…" She blinked back a tear. "Where did they come from?"

"They were adult blood dragons from the southern Badlands. A mated pair and two adolescents, all come into their full fire. As to why they chose to bring their fire on Manehatten, we shall never know. I must be losing my touch if I let that smaller wyrm graze me with his tail." She gestured to the deep gouges in the golden plate armor where the dragon's spikes had nearly reached the padding, and if not for her quick reflexes, might have impaled her chest. "Luna had the worst of it. The female must have been eighty feet long at least, and vicious, especially when her mate was killed."

Cadance touched the elder Princess's shoulder. Her eyes, full of care and adoration, glistened like polished amethysts. "Equestria is blessed to have such powerful and caring rulers. Both of you, Auntie. The ponies of this kingdom don't know how lucky they are." Celestia blushed from the other mare's praise and finally let a smile reach her muzzle.

"It is a blessing Twilight is not here to see her Princess in such a state. I would never hear the end of it."

"I miss her," said Cadance tenderly. "Shining Armor and I haven't seen her since the wedding. We were discussing a trip to Ponyville for their Running of the Leaves festival. A sort of family reunion, and it would be a surprise. I hope this unusual weather hasn't changed Ponyville's plans."

Celestia clapped a hoof to her forehead. "Some teacher I am… with the annual peace summit in the Griffon Kingdom and now with the dragon situation, Twilight's letters were pushed completely out of my mind. Knowing her, she is frantic and afraid her Princess has forgotten her. We both know how stressed our dear Twilight can become when faced with uncertainty."

"If you wish, I can conclude the rest of the evening's business while you retire. Do you need anything brought up to your chambers?"

"My butler will bring me a pot of tea, I suppose. That's all I need. Thank you, dear Cadance." The two ponies embraced as only close friends could and were interrupted by another set of hooves on the stone.

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty." The receptionist bowed low. "Before you retire to your chambers for the evening, I wished to pass along the message that a Twilight Sparkle, of Ponyville, is here for an audience with you."

"Twilight?" exclaimed the Princess, making the poor pony nearly jump out of her coat. "When did she arrive?"

"Nearly an hour ago. Why- there she is, on the bench! I wondered why I didn't hear a peep out of her." She gestured to where Twilight lay, tucked into a compact ball with her tail wrapped around her hooves. Her muzzle was likewise concealed by the tail which fluttered with each breath.

The Princess smiled at her assistant and her voice was warm and grateful. "Thank you."

They stepped quietly up to Twilight's sleeping form. Cadance let out a soft "aww" at the sight of her former foalsitting charge, curled up like a contented cat with the faintest grin frozen on her lips. "Perhaps we can wake her gently?"

There was no need to rouse Twilight from her nap. Guard shifts at the Palace were in four-hour increments, so that every post was occupied by a fresh and alert pony, and sunset marked the transfer between Celestia's and Luna's forces throughout the entire complex. Due to the confusion caused by the recently arrived alicorns, a random selection of armored stallions manned the posts. Shining Armor was in the process of remedying the situation and at that precise moment, four earth ponies in black armor burst through the doors on the way to the throne room. The crash of the great oaken door dragged Twilight out of the deep fathoms of dreamless sleep.

Whatever she expected to see, it certainly wasn't Celestia and Cadance standing four feet away. "Ughhh…" She blearily opened her eyes and, realizing who she was staring at, jumped to her hooves.

"Princess! I'm so sorry! I only meant to sit down and wait for you and then I lay down on the bench and-" She noticed Cadance and gasped. "I should have written you a letter letting you know I was coming."

As they did many times in the past, Twilight and Cadance greeted each other with the dance each knew by heart: "Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake. Clap your hooves and do a little shake!" Cadance pulled her into a loving hug. "I missed you so much, Twilight. Shining Armor and I were just talking about you yesterday."

"Is my brother here too?"

"Shining went to fetch the royal armorer and to supervise the changing of the guard. I'm sure he will return soon."

"I am afraid your letters would not have reached me in any case," put in Celestia. "Until this afternoon, I was again in Saddle Arabia to meet with their Emir for a trade summit. They have prospered, apparently, and wish to open ancient caravan routes through the Badlands to our Equestrian ports. A grand idea, but at a horrid time. The dragons are stirring again beyond our southern borders. Not to mention that many ponies seem to be abandoning the roads as of late, dragons or no dragons."

Twilight heard and understood Celestia's words, even as she began to notice the battered state of her Princess, and put two and two together. She let out a strangled wheezing noise. "Were you- attacked? By a dragon?!"

"Maybe it's best to just tell her?" said Cadance, with the tiniest hint of a laugh.

It always amazed me how such a sweet pony- my niece, no less- can be so trying upon my patience. With a deadpan stare at the younger alicorn, Celestia replied, "Manehatten was attacked this afternoon by dragons."

"Are you hurt? I should have been there to help you!" Twilight's hooves prodded at the rent breastplate and the white cloak covered in a patchwork of rips and burn marks, coming quite close to Celestia in the process. "Surely I could have helped!"

Celestia smiled down at her and laughed, a soft melodious laugh that turned Twilight's knees to jelly; her sweet breath was in her face and, in remembrance of their night together, Twilight blushed scarlet. "You are skilled with magic, my student, but four adult dragons are a bit beyond your ability. Luna and I together were barely enough to bring them down."

"I still should have come with you," pleaded Twilight. "To- finish them off, maybe."

The Princess of Love watched the two reunited ponies closely. She, who knew love like Celestia knew the rays of her own sun, caught the telltale signs in an instant. The shyness and cautious caresses and what a less dignified pony might call 'bedroom eyes' revealed two ponies only beginning to understand the feelings in their hearts. The fact that both were mares, or that one was royalty and the other was not, was irrelevant.

To her, love was simply love.

She smiled knowingly."Perhaps I should let you two have some time alone. Twilight, if you are still in Canterlot tomorrow morning, Shining and I would love to take you to breakfast and catch up. I'm sure my husband would love to spend some time with his little sister." After hugging the flustered unicorn once more, Cadance departed, leaving them alone in the hall.

"Let us go to my chamber, Twilight, where we can talk freely. It is a good thing the Palace guards are watchful. Too watchful in this case."

"We shouldn't have to hide," said Twilight, as they ascended the spiral staircase to Celestia's tower. "There's nothing wrong about us being together."

"The kingdom does not look favorably on such unions, be they mare and mare or stallion and stallion. It is a viewpoint born in earlier days when such as ourselves were stigmatized as freaks or undesirables, and even exiled in some cases. Such things only change with time."

The deeply rooted sadness lacing Celestia's voice brought moisture to Twilight's eyes. Just like Rarity told me… Is it so wrong to follow your heart, even when it leads you to unexpected places? "Then we should change them," remarked Twilight, with conviction. Celestia made no comment.

Golden-armored stallions on either side of the hall bowed low. Not until she had entered her anteroom did the Princess relax and attempt to free herself from what remained of the armor. The damaged breastplate fell to the floor with a thunk and she levitated the other pieces onto a nearby wooden rack made for the purpose. "I had Shining Armor send for the armorer, but perhaps he is busy tonight as well. No matter. I have you to help me, Twilight, and your company is infinitely more valuable to me."

As if they had both been awaiting the proper moment, the two mares came together in a passionate kiss. Twilight wrapped her foreleg around Celestia's for support and closeness; as seconds ticked away, that hoof found its way into the alicorn's mane. In Twilight's case, the awkwardness of exactly where her lips should go vanished in an instant. A blissful period of time passed before Celestia pulled away and said, "Somepony obviously missed me."

"It's only been a week but it-"

"-felt like forever," finished Celestia. "It has been the same for me, my love."

My love. Twilight's heart exploded in a shower of rainbows. No longer preoccupied by her marefriend's alluring lips, she realized that half of Celestia's beautiful tail was missing and terminated in a section of scorched and blackened hair. "Your poor tail!"

Celestia finished shrugging out of her battle raiment, leaving only the cloak beneath, which she set on a nearby table along with her crown and shoes. Somepony- a servant or guard- had placed a fresh washbasin of steaming water on the countertop, along with soap and gold embroidered towels, and Twilight did her best to avert her eyes (or at least pretend to) as the Princess washed the dust and smoke of battle from her coat. The regal white fur, matted with moisture, aroused a not-so-innocent but oh-so-delicious thought in her mind; she turned away, her cheeks shooting from lavender to boiling maroon in an instant.

"I suppose it is never an easy thing to stare into the eyes of a fifty-foot blood dragon, even with the powers I possess," said Celestia. "Maybe Equestria's leader is just not as powerful as she once was. I once fought off three dragons without a scratch… although, at the time, I held three of the Elements. My tail is a small sacrifice in exchange for keeping my kingdom safe."

"I'm sure that's not the case," soothed Twilight.

"Do you remember when you wrote me a letter about how the love of your friends, and their grounding influence, were the only things keeping you from overthinking a simple problem and losing your head entirely? Which, if I recall, you did anyway, and I had to undo your- ahem, creative spellwork."

"And you talked some sense into me." Twilight giggled at the awful memory of her deranged self, creating friendship 'problems' because none existed at the time. "I still can't believe I did all that."

"What, then, are my grounding influences? My duties as a ruler. The love of my sister. And, most importantly, your love. Today it was nearly not enough…"

Twilight wasn't sure exactly what her teacher was suggesting. Celestia is never unsure of herself, and never hesitates for a second when there is a decision to be made. So she could do nothing more than hold her hoof, then both hooves, as the Princess began to break down in front of her.

"There was a moment during the battle when my magic nearly failed me. As a unicorn, I am sure you know the feeling. You cast a spell- a spell you know by heart, one that you have performed hundreds of times before and you place faith into- and at the moment it takes form and life from your horn, something happens that shakes that faith. Faith is the only thing powering the spell and the spell is the only thing between you and a fiery death. I admit, I am a stranger to this feeling, Twilight." She took a calming breath and finished, "Battles like that balance on the edge of a knife. Slip but an inch to the side and you fall."

She took Twilight's smaller hoof between her own and gave it a soft squeeze. Then, as if a ray of sunlight pierced a cloudbank over her, she appeared to shake off the helpless feelings that had taken root in her soul. "I suppose we all have doubts," she said finally. "Alicorns are not accustomed to thinking about death. Or failure, for that matter."

"But you're immortal, right?"

"Our blood grants us exceptionally long life. My longest-lived ancestor saw his five thousandth year without incident. We can, however, die, and death claimed many of us long ago. We can be killed just like any other pony. Whether from grief or from blades or from dark sorcery, we died all the same. Thousands of us."

The thought of the Princess being killed, by a dragon or otherwise, made Twilight snuggle closer to Celestia's snowy white chest. "I won't let that happen."

"Let us forget about the awful day I have endured." Celestia shook her mane and crossed to the patio door, staring out at the impossibly cold winter evening and the stars shining above the Crystal Mountains. The suite's thick glass windows, double-paned and in stout golden frames, could not completely block the drafts and wailing gusts of wind. Inside was a cozy seventy-seven degrees; outside was a frigid minus two. "It is far too cold outside to sit and watch the stars as we did that night, but… I have a better idea." Golden light shimmered up and down the length of her slender horn and as Twilight watched, it coalesced into a single beam that shot into the vaulted fireplace and caught the logs already arranged there. They blazed into life within seconds. Without breaking her concentration, she levitated one of the couches into the room's center. "Sit with me, Twilight, and tell me all about your day."

As she nestled into the center of the couch, Twilight's cheeks burnt like a fiery steam furnace and she felt light-headed. "I'm not sure where to start, honestly."

"How have things been since our last time together?"

Crazy? Horrifying?

Weird?

"It's been, well-" and here, the concrete foundation underneath her voice cracked and foundered under all the built-up stress and uncertainty of the past days. With a shuddering gasp she continued. "I know I'll sound like a complete foal and after you put your life on the line to defend Manehatten, I can't even complain."

"No concern is ever too small, Twilight." The pair cuddled closer. "I sent for a pot of my special tea to warm you up and to help us unwind. We both know Marelot is an unwise choice for certain unicorns."

"That's not fair! I didn't know that it would make me-" she spluttered, searching for the correct word, and Celestia tipped her an enormous wink. She further teased Twilight by sticking out her tongue and breaking into very un-Princess-like giggles. Twilight, of course, could never stay upset and soon joined in. Their intimate position made them quickly forget exactly what they were laughing about and turned their minds to other pursuits. More physical ones.

"Mmmm," murmured Celestia. Twilight kissed her with the urgency of somepony starved of affection for months. The kiss took the alicorn off guard, but in seconds they were locking lips in earnest and making soft sounds of pleasure. Celestia, for her part, was fast becoming turned on by Twilight's kisses; although sloppy and unpracticed, they dripped with passion. Regions of their mouths previously unexplored became very much explored. Twilight loved the way it felt when her lover's tongue pushed against her own, and this oral wrestling match mirrored the frenzied grasp of hooves desperate for a bit of the other's body to caress.

"I love you," whispered Twilight. "I'm not afraid to say it. I'd shout it from the tower in an instant." She shifted her attention to Celestia's silky neck, and the effect was immediate.

"Stars!" Twilight's kisses produced many unladylike sounds from the Princess. As she gave herself over to the feelings, with eyes closed and back arched in pleasure, Celestia began to wonder exactly where her student had learnt these techniques. The truth was that Twilight followed only her instincts. She had one desire, which was to please her lover; exactly how to do this remained a mystery, and much like books on combat magic, texts dealing with romance between ponies were rare. The one in Twilight's library only teased at the subject and actually discouraged love, if one read between the lines. After all, it was the same book she had lent the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Its dire warnings against love, potion-produced or otherwise, hadn't discouraged the three fillies, although this was not a failing of the book.

I wish I had a book that would teach me how to love Celestia the way she loves me. A book that doesn't discuss love like it's dark magic, to fear and control.

The euphoric tightening sensations working their way through her withers were something no book had ever warned her against. She kissed and nuzzled at the Princess's neck, switching often to her lips, and found that her knowledge was sorely lacking.

"What's wrong, love?"

Twilight's voice vibrated with passion and uncertainty. "I- I don't know what to do next."

In the most calming, but deliciously sultry, voice the unicorn had ever heard, Celestia leaned in close and whispered, "Then I will show you."

She was drunk on the scent of sunlight and wildflowers, on her Princess's sweet breath washing across her face, and warmed to her very core by those gleaming eyes. Celestia's mane fell all around them like a silken waterfall. The wind might howl at the window, but was as far from Twilight as if there had been fifty feet of stone to block it. It was locked outside. All of her fears and worries were, likewise, barred out in the cold with the wind. Also chucked from the Princess's tower were the secrets protected within her chest: her fears for her friends and the arrival of Bryn, among other things. Twilight Sparkle was warm and safe for the first time since leaving Canterlot nearly seven days ago.

With excruciating slowness, Celestia lowered her onto the sofa. Her hooves had only the pillows to cling to. All of her was exposed to the Princess, all of her body vulnerable and on display, even the part of her that a mare normally kept concealed behind her tail. "You are beautiful, Twilight. The most beautiful thing my eyes have ever beheld."

"In eighteen hundred years, I'm the prettiest thing you've seen? I'm just a regular old unicorn."

"We both know you are far more. Oh Twilight, the things I want to do to you…" She left the thought unsaid. Her lips (and gentle teeth) did the talking. With the first light nibble on her neck, Twilight let out a moan of such volume that the guards outside could not fail to hear it. She was helpless to move and found the thought an enticing one. After all, why would she want to get free? Especially when the lips making their way down her neck and onto her chest felt so incredible?

Her eyes closed from the sensations. She was now Celestia's, to do with what she would. Celestia kissed her soft abdomen while her hooves held the unicorn close. Then, just when the tension was truly unbearable, she brought her head up to Twilight's and kissed her powerfully as their bodies came together. The alicorn's chest moving against her own was a special kind of amazing, one that made her see stars and fail to notice Celestia's mouth moving back to its previous position.

"Tonight, I will teach you what love truly is."

She kissed a spot just there, and Twilight melted into waves of unadulterated ecstasy. All pleasure before this moment could not be called 'pleasure'. Before the waves pulled her into a warm velvety ocean, she reached out for the life preserver that was her Princess. Celestia's lips only had to shift a little and those waves became a riptide. The riptide pulled her beneath the surface.

As she grew ever closer to her climax, a pulsating glow began at the base of her horn. Everything Twilight knew about magic told her that it never manifested without the will and desire to produce it. If this was true, the magic now issuing from her horn was a violation of magic's cardinal rules, because she was not controlling it or wishing it into existence. It existed of its own volition. Furthermore, its color was not her usual magenta; it was a striking lavender-gold, bright and silvery and comforting. Celestia continued her attention to Twilight's secret place and with each touch the magic glowed with intensifying brilliance.

"Ohhhhh!"

A miniature star erupted into being. For that blissful instant, above Twilight's head was a burst of pure light in periwinkle and pale yellow. The colors of love. Alicorn and unicorn, gold and violet, joined as one.

If friendship is magic, then what is love?

So I finally finished this chapter and edited it together with its prologue, which was the last thing I posted, so it will make more sense. -SL

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: UNDERWORLD

October 11

Sharp moonbeams struck the eastern stained glass windows of the throne room. Each thirty-foot pane caught the light and bent it, colored it, transformed it, until the resulting reflections took on an otherworldly and quite frightening appearance. A mosaic of deformed shapes shone through the gaps in the drapery.

Every so often a black cloud might obscure the moon and blot out all incoming light, and when this happened, the wall sconces were the sole light source. It gave the hall a dim and barbaric aura. Within these walls, time seemed frozen five hundred years in the past.

From the floor to the ceiling was a distance of exactly one hundred and sixteen feet. The walls rose vertically for the first eighty and in true Pintorian architectural fashion, the walls were crowned by a collection of steep roofs and minarets that stabbed skyward like gilded scepters. In daylight, the massive marble edifice glowed as if lit from within. When it was completed, two hundred and fifty-two years into Celestia's reign, the Palace's architects had placed crystal-studded glass panes in the central spire, directly over the throne room, with the intent that both sun and moon would illuminate the space in equally striking ways. More often than not, however, looking up at the nighttime ceiling was like staring into a very dark tube.

As the hours in Night Court ticked away, more clouds crept in to blanket the castle. Soon only the torches' wavering flames were left to fight off the darkness that seemed to, quite literally, crush the crowd from above.

The oppressive atmosphere wasn't helped by the fact that two of Princess Luna's guards had, only moments ago, dragged a mentally unstable and bleeding pony from the room- a pony that had attacked her and received a stunning spell to the face for his efforts. The assembled ponies shuffled and mumbled in low voices. Their unease was palpable and the Princess could hear it, low and insistent, like a hive of wasps buried beneath the floor. Nervous faces stared up at her.

Just one more reason for them to fear me, Luna thought dully. Come to Night Court and see the show! Ponies cursed for your entertainment! Watch the not-so-reformed Princess Luna dispense cruel justice!

She regretted casting such a forceful stunning spell. True, it had demonstrated to the crowd the foolishness of assaulting a monarch, but it also possessed all the power of her simmering temper, a temper worsened by dragons and bureaucrats and a trying day that showed no sign of slowing down.

With one simple incantation, she had probably damaged a year's worth of her own efforts to improve her public image. Months of smiling at festivals and listening to ponies' sob stories in these dreadful court sessions were thrown out the window. At least that is the thought I see in these citizens before me. They lower their heads in terror and speak in whispers, as if they expect to see Nightmare Moon burst through my skin. Ruefully, she looked at her trailing black cloak, covered in burns from errant dragonfire, and the dented plating. I should have left the cloak and the armor in my chambers. Perhaps the resemblance is too distinct?

Only an hour had passed since she and her sister had returned from Manehatten, singed and weary from the dragon attack. Her choice was a disheartening one. Either take time to freshen up and arrive in Night Court behind schedule, or go right to her appointment while still in her battle raiment and fighting temperament. Regardless of what option she chose, it left her the loser. The Canterlot ponyrazzi will have a field day with this.

Luna breathed deeply and tried to let the earlier stress fade away, without success. The ponies below her throne were not helping.

"Apologies, Excellency, for our abrupt intrusion," said the stallion on the left. A private in her own guard, he wore simple plate armor and a helmet, sans plume, over his short black mane. He bowed and his muzzle nearly touched the carpeting. "The situation is one of rage."

By the Elements, what more will go wrong on this infernal day?!

"Are you certain?" She found herself standing, without the memory of having done so. Flash Sentry took the smallest step backward.

"Yes, Princess. There is no doubt."

So it is happening. It is happening as I feared, as I warned my sister against, and it falls to me to clean up the mess. I shall not let the Elements fall. "Very well. Tonight's Court is dismissed and will resume at the scheduled time tomorrow night. Flash Sentry and the rest of my airborne guard, with me." As she strode down the throne's carpeted steps, the nearest Pegasi left their posts and took up positions around her.

Rainbow Dash, still standing on the podium along with the attendees from Cloudsdale and Vanhoover, looked less like a fearless speedster and more like a lost filly for the briefest of moments. Then she found her voice and with it, her characteristic brashness. She stepped forward. "Your Highness, what's going on?"

"Rainbow Dash. I feel you have had an exhausting night, but you also have a stake in Equestrian security concerns and a duty to defend our nation. If this news is true, it will concern you too."

The sentence she then whispered into Rainbow's ear was inaudible to even the guards standing only a few paces away. It was meant for the mare's ears only. If Luna intended for the reply to be similarly inaudible, she didn't know Rainbow Dash.

When she heard the words 'Pinkie' and 'danger', Dash uttered a shrill gasp that carried to the back of the chamber. "Do you know where Pinkie is?!"

"I meant to convey the information to you quietly," snapped Luna. "All I know is what you have heard. She is, apparently, in the Undercity, although what she is doing there is a mystery to me. The option to accompany me is still yours."

"But- what the hay is she doing there?" Rainbow Dash exploded, stamping her hooves in anger and forgetting for a moment who she was addressing; she lowered her head. "Your Highness."

"This is a topic best discussed in private. Darkmane?"

All she had to do was nod, and his thundering voice filled the room. "By order of Her Highness, Princess Luna, vacate the throne room AT ONCE!" His was not a voice to be debated or reasoned with. The ease with which he used the tones of military command was equal to the Princesses', and with his size, he needed no voice amplification spells to make his point. The assembled Canterlot citizens headed for the exit without encouragement. Even those in attendance to 'see the show', as if the official Court business was some sort of vaudeville performance with the climax yet to come, filed quickly through the main doors.

"If something bad happened to my friend, I want to know!" said Rainbow Dash loudly, unable to hold back her frustration. "It makes no sense that she'd be here in Canterlot, Celestia knows where, when the last time we saw her was in Ponyville two nights ago. All of us are worried sick about her."

Luna regarded her with great interest. "And I, or my sister, was not informed of this?"

"I think Twilight came here to tell Princess Celestia but I'm not sure. Or maybe she wrote it in a letter. All I know is that on the night of the ninth, she invited us to a party and when we all got there, Pinkie was missing. Rarity and Applejack went looking for her this morning."

And if my considerate sister received this news in a letter, she did not share it with me. Luna ground her teeth and seethed. Each theory she considered made less sense than the one before it. Besides the fact that her sister was probably in the dark about Pinkie Pie's predicament as well, her presence in the Undercity made no sense to begin with, and became more fantastical by the second. A pony like Pinkie would never simply run off to Lower Canterlot with no clues or explanation, especially considering the passage of time; only a day had elapsed since the pony's disappearance.

"Flash Sentry, Storm Claw," said Luna, addressing the newly arrived stallions, "you will explain exactly what you know about an Element of Harmony being lost in the Undercity. To falsify such a claim is no joking matter."

"It's like this, your Majesty," said Flash. "I've been on Undercity patrol duty for the last few weeks and-"

"-Me too," Storm interrupted. "Darkmane told us to watch out for suspicious activity on the lower levels. Ever since those nightclubs and raves opened up on level nine and ten, it seems like somepony gets mugged or assaulted by the hour. That whole section of the Undercity should be condemned."

"Commander Shining Armor has us coordinating with the Undercity police because honestly, it's the only way to keep the place patrolled and we're short enough on ponies as it is. No doubt you heard about last week's riot." Flash Sentry glowered at Storm's interruption. "I've only been on the job for three months, your Highness. Nopony wants to get stuck on lower patrol but if it's the way to become a Palace guard, I'm happy to take any shift they give me."

"Rage," growled Luna. "The Element of Laughter. What did you see?"

"I didn't see anything, Princess, but around three-thirty this afternoon there was an incident at one of the big factories on Level Nine. Canterlot Ironworks operates two foundries down there. You know the company that makes the airship parts and the building frames? Those places are run like prisons, with armed guards and head counts and all of that... they use their own security and even we couldn't get in without a warrant. When the day shift went to work this morning, apparently there was an extra pony at the head count. By the time they sorted it all out, whoever that pony was had disappeared. The manager thought he saw an unfamiliar pony with a bright pink mane in the crowd and attached it to the incident report."

"What does this have to do with the Element?" said Luna impatiently. "My guard does not exist to find missing Canterlot Ironworks laborers or sort out the company's incompetence."

"With all due respect, I thought so too, until a police bulletin went out to all the Undercity guards twenty minutes ago. There's been an explosion and fifteen ponies have just been found dead at the same factory. Level Nine is on full lockdown."

"Then there is no time to waste."

---

Canterlot Undercity

14 hours earlier…

The two friends met, as they always did, in the walled courtyard just outside of the main gates.

It was their habit to exchange a hello or two upon meeting each other, but to say they were friends might have been a bit of a stretch. They were certainly not family or casual acquaintances. Their body language and chilly greeting was proof enough. Both would throw an occasional glance at one another but neither made an attempt at conversation; after all, both were here because the alternative- standing outside in the street, where the wind was fiercest, was far worse.

In several hours the pair would also meet here for their lunch break. It beat sitting in the lunchroom amidst scores of grubby, overworked, and desperate stallions. The cafeteria had wood heat- a luxury by Undercity standards- but the stench was often overpowering. It was as if somepony had bottled up hard luck and poverty and sprayed it around like an air freshener.

Oh, and the sweat. The reek was enough to make a pony lose their lunch.

The courtyard had fresh air but was not much better in the comfort department. It was the size of an average living room and with high stone walls, topped with sharpened iron wire, to prevent escapes and unauthorized entry. If the stonemasons had intended for it to look like a prison, they had succeeded.

Aside from the usual sprinkling of drunks, insomniacs, and returning night shift workers, the industrial district was as silent as a tomb. Today the lifts had been running much faster than usual, and the pre-dawn traffic around the docks and the textile mill was light enough that one could make the commute in ten minutes or less- an endeavor that might take the better part of an hour otherwise. With the exception of an industrial hauler that had crashed and spilled its cargo of fresh vegetables all over the southern terminal, the roads were clear. These ponies were the first to arrive for the morning's shift. Soon other workers would congregate and wander aimlessly around the staging area until the gates opened.

Trixie Lulamoon let out a gargantuan yawn. It might not have looked like it, but it was five forty-five in the morning, and unicorns such as herself were never meant to rise at ridiculous hours. A magician, after all, was never late or early. She arrived when she wanted to. Not a second more or less.

But if Trixie came to work even three minutes late...

She knew what the outcome would be. Her employment, precarious as it already was, would be terminated before she could say "Ursa".

With a sigh, she tried to make himself comfortable on the stone bench. It was impossible. Besides being as cold as the surrounding air, it was clammy and crumbling from the constant drip of water from high above. Condensation and evaporation produced a blanket of mist which, when coupled with the mild acidity of the rocks themselves, eventually ate away at whatever it touched. The bricks were pitted and cracked with age and the razor wire mounted above the wall showed streaks of rust. Thin creepers and tendrils of moss grew down the wall like slimy green snakes.

"Why the hay does it have to be so cold all the time?" she groaned, smacking her hooves together for warmth and pulling her tattered cape close around her withers. The pony sitting opposite her merely sucked on his cigarette and chuckled wryly at her discomfort.

It was simple physics, of course, and she knew it. Wintry air was sucked into the mountain where it mingled with the geothermally heated drafts rising from the pitch-black caves below Level Ten. This left the upper regions of Lower Canterlot in a state of eternal breezes, where warm and cool air collided, and the cold air settled to the bottom of the chasm to mingle with its natural moisture.

If enough turbulence and water vapor were present, a thin simulation of rainfall would be produced within what most Undercity citizens only half-lovingly referred to as 'the shaft'. So the Great and Powerful Trixie can be soaked AND freezing when she rides to work each day. Wait... if there's no sunlight or moonlight, can you still call it a day?

Millennia of dripping water had produced impressive stalactites hanging from the rock overhang nearly six hundred feet above Trixie's head. They gave the disturbing impression of giant teeth mounted in the mountain's rocky jaws, poised to devour her and all of Nine.

The pony sharing this particular bit of misery with her was not a talkative fellow; indeed, on most mornings he would not make a sound besides positive or negative grunts. He wore a simple black hat (to conceal his thinning and graying mane) and the wiry stubble on his jaw was at least a week old. Today, the hat was pulled down low over his eyes, and in one moment he had produced more words than he had in the last three weeks. He spoke in a world-weary rumble roughened by years of smoking.

"Not a fan of the weather, eh?"

Trixie snorted. The other continued, in that strange accent of his, that was somewhere between a Manechester commoner and something more... urban. Something harsh and unlettered and suggestive of many years seeing the absolute worst parts of life. The tones of his voice made her fortunes seem to fall by the second. "Seems you got yourself in the wrong place then."

"The Great and Powerful Trixie does not mind a little bad weather," she said, trying to cover up her embarrassment.

"That great-and-powerful rubbish again?" said the stallion, with a snort. "Come to think of it, this ain't the right line of work for somepony such as yourself. You been here near a month and can't imagine the reason for you still bein' at it."

"Another neighsayer, here to doubt my magical talents." His derisive mention of her title made her conjure an umbrella out of thin air and levitate it above her head; the periwinkle shimmer of her magic flashed like starlight on the wet stones. Am I not great and powerful, you crude peasant? she thought. "I believe they speak for themselves."

He made a "hmph" sound and concentrated on the cigarette, while Trixie kept up what she considered to be a dignified silence. She was used to the taunts by now. Teasing was trivial compared to what she had endured in the past months. Besides, any animosity over the insult was buried under her amazement over her companion's sudden talkativeness. The mysterious pony was in a conversing mood and, whatever the reason, it certainly meant something.

A month of living down here in this hell, working this dead end job until Trixie forgets the time of day and the days of the week, and Trixie still doesn't even know his name.

"A lady has to take what she can get," said Trixie, to break the silence. She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice, though. "Trixie guesses that you must have also lost everything, if you are stuck working in this dump."

"Aye, but have you really lost everything?"

The question was framed in such an offhand, flippant way that Trixie found herself on her hooves and breathing through her muzzle in anger. "What in Celestia's name does it look like?"

"You still got your health, and your magic, and all four o' your hooves. Don't see what all the fuss is about."

"So being made a laughingstock by a good-for-nothing, goody-two-horseshoes mare from Ponyville and her friends, and losing the respect of every town in Equestria, and going hungry because even a rock farm would not keep Trixie employed, and somehow ending up in a flea-bitten hovel on Level Six while Trixie has to work long days at this place, is nothing to worry about? NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT?!"

The words had just tumbled out of her. She hadn't meant to unload her frustrations on her 'friend' but, in the absence of any other sympathetic ears, any listener was fair game. "And don't give Trixie some story about how this is your true calling in life." She waved a hoof at the ponies beginning to line up outside the factory gate, visible through the bars of the fence. "All of these ponies are here because they have nowhere left to go."

"Ponyville, eh? Never met a Ponyville pony before. Although my third cousin twice removed, or some rubbish like that, she's an apple farmer in those parts. Never met the mare, meself." He took a long drag on the cigarette and cast its nub onto the ground. When he spoke again, it was aimed directly at Trixie, and in a harsh didactic tone. Two icy gray eyes surveyed her from beneath the hat. "Nopony can turn their nose up at honest work, 'specially a pony who just needs to get 'er shit straight. Now folks like me, old worn-out buck-ups moving from one shit job to another, this is all we got. You've got potential, still. You're young."

Which sounded good, but he wasn't the one that had experienced the fall firsthand.

It was hard to believe that five months had already passed. Five months since the day that her traveling one-pony show had rattled over the bridge into Ponyville and set in motion events that would bring her life crumbling down around her.

That day played like a two-bit cinema in her mind. How could it not? It occupied most of her waking thoughts, and at least half of the nightmares as well- at least those not already claimed by rampaging Ursa Minors. "Step up, everypony, and see the Great and Powerful... TRIXIE!" Then carefully timed fireworks would ignite from the framework of her wagon.

Trixie was a weak magician at all but conjuration spells. However, like any great entertainer, she compensated. She was a master at mixing magical powders. Earth ponies, who made up the lion's share of the crowd, would never know the difference anyway.

It was a sleepy Sunday summer morning in Ponyville, nearly half past ten, and the only ponies up and about were shop owners and a gray mailmare. So to say that Trixie's arrival soon had the town's full attention would be an understatement. She rolled up to the town square, donned the handmade shimmery gown and wizard's hat, lit her first salvo of firecrackers, and the show began.

The crowd was putty in her hands. She augmented her magic with a few flashes of flammable powder and they were ooh-ing and aah-ing as if they'd never seen spells before. These simple earth ponies... five unicorns could rule over the whole population, if they wanted. The Great and Powerful Trixie could do it herself.

Why did that Luna-cursed mare have to ruin Trixie's day?

There was no use in dwelling on the events of that day: how two colts had attempted to test her by luring a gigantic magical bear to town, and how Twilight Sparkle had saved the day (and disproved her great-and-powerful boasts) with just a bit of clever spellwork.

She had analysed every angle and every theory and now believed that Twilight, citizen of Ponyville and overall enemy number one, was only defending her home from the Ursa that those colts had so foolishly lured to town. Any pony would have done the same. Well... perhaps not in such style, but still.

If the Great and Powerful Trixie ever comes across Snips and Snails again, I will torture them into insanity for what they have done to me. They will pull my golden throne around Ponyville after I conquer it and all its citizens. Without wheels, naturally, because Trixie does not trust wheels, and it will make them suffer as Trixie suffered when their legs break from the strain. As Celestia is my witness, Trixie Lulamoon will have her revenge.

The good-for-nothing colts were the epicenter of her misfortunes; if not for their actions, Twilight would never have had to contain the Ursa-sized mess in the first place. Trixie couldn't blame her.

Although hating the uppity lavender mare felt good, so she did it anyway.

The three weeks following her ill-fated Ponyville engagement were a descent into grief and misery. She wasn't sure how the news traveled so fast: one day, ponies were paying good bits to see her flashy showmanship, and the next they were vandalizing her wagon, taunting and jeering as she passed through, even throwing rancid apples at her performances. Appleloosa had been the worst. The mixed crowd of frontier ponies and buffalo began to boo before her introduction was half finished and, by the time she was into her famous rope tricks, pelted her with apple pies.

Answering the insults did no good, either. "Fraud" and "swindler" and much more hurtful epithets were hurled at her from Los Pegasus to Baltimare and every two-horse town in between. For the first few shows hence, Trixie insisted that she was a legitimate magician and performer and that defeating Ursas was a little beyond her repertoire. She yelled until her voice was hoarse. Far from earning bags of gold at every tour date, she was soon struggling to keep oats on the table and the wagon in working order.

A circus gig in Vanhoover kept her from starving- for the moment- but soon she was in the same circumstances again, one bad turn away from being on the streets. One low-paying manual labor job bled into the next. San Palomino rock farm or night shifts at a Canterlot diner, it was all the same.

With winter came a brief streak of better luck. A month ago, Trixie found herself in a sleepy Pegasus town by the name of Rainbow Falls. It originally began as a suburb of Cloudsdale but was a haven for those looking to escape fast-paced urban life or those on the run from the city authorities. Perhaps a little of both. Besides a show or two at county fairs and high-profile cuteceaneras, she was reduced to working at the airship docks alongside some unsavory Pegasi who would have made a meal of her had they not been afraid of her magic. At least the work was not backbreaking and she went to bed with a full stomach. When tourism traffic dried up, she was out of a job until one coworker mentioned an opening in the Canterlot Undercity. Warehouse work, said the stallion, and good pay for a hard day's labor. Trixie hates caves and dampness and darkness but what choice did she have?

And now here she was. Her days were spent at the Ironworks and her nights were spent in a drafty tenement house in a seedy part of Level Six, huddling over a fire and wishing for bygone days.

One thing could be said for Undercity life, though. Its artificial weather beat freezing to death on the streets above. Even Rainbow Falls had taken its toll on Trixie: constant bone-chilling winds, morning after morning with hooves cramping up from the cold and the strain, and a vague sense that there was nothing left in all of Equestria to live for. That all the happiness had been vacuumed from the world and only despair left in its place.

Here, although she was at a dead end, she had purpose. Six bits per hour, to be precise. And, thought Trixie with mixed pride and regret, a place to call home.

"I've been all over Equestria," the grizzled stallion said, talking more to himself now than to Trixie. "Been a Vanhoover fisherpony and a brick hauler before that. Lost a fortune playin' at bloody Los Pegasus card games, bits that I worked hard for. S'pose I just never knew how to settle down in one place and enjoy my luck when I had it."

"Trixie wonders, where did you make your fortune?"

"Oh, aye, I bet you'd love a little easy money, way things are right now. Thing is, it's never easy. Ten years o' working in the northern Manetana gold fields, getting rich, and see what I have to show for it? Workin' here because my ex-wife took the two fillies an' most everything else I didn't lose gambling. Caught 'er with another stallion and when I kicked his buckin' face in, they told me it was either hard labor or prison. So don't gimme some sob story about how sorry your life is, mate... I've seen it all." He dragged deeply on a fresh cigarette and heaved a deep sigh, looking for a moment as old as the rocks above. "Damn things'll be the death of me."

"Trixie's uncle used to smoke," said Trixie offhandedly. The comment seemed to die in the air as she said it.

"Easiest thing in the world, to quit. I've quit fifty times... It's stayin' off 'em that's hard." He puffed on the stinking thing in silence and tried, unsuccessfully, not to chuckle. In the three or so weeks he had known Trixie, the haughty unicorn had never failed to refer to herself in the third person. Ridiculous as it was, he found it endearing, and forgave her attitude. Most of the time.

The gate of the courtyard looked out onto one of the larger Level Nine thoroughfares. With so much of the potential real estate on Nine still in the process of being excavated and developed, the open locations were a tightly packed sprawl of slum houses, nightclubs, and other nondescript stone buildings. Canterlot Ironworks owned such a building. It was a short distance from the airship terminal but, as with most of Nine, in a sector that put the detriments of Lower Canterlot life on full display: miscreants, loose morals, alcohol, and crime. As Trixie watched, two burly police stallions chased down and tackled a mare as she attempted to flee from them. A bystander (equally inebriated) joined the scuffle.

An empty wine bottle shattered and her drunken shrieks, coupled with the police ponies' shouts and the sounds of sticks hitting flesh, echoed on the largely deserted street. The whole exchange took place within shouting distance of the courtyard. "Trixie cannot believe this! In broad daylight? Well, crystal light, anyway."

"Told ya, things're gettin' worse. Why'd you think our admirable employer has this place here, in the bloody bowels of Celestia knows where? It ain't for tax writeoffs, that's for sure." The old pony flicked the spent cigarette into a puddle, where it fizzled and died; he promptly lit another. "D'you think those fancy princesses truly care for the ponies livin' down here?"

When Trixie had no ready reply to the question, he pressed on. "Instead of fixin' the problems, they send in more police and guards. Ponies start a riot two weeks ago, tryin' to get fair wages out o' places like this- the ironworks, the docks, the textile mill over in Southern sector- and what do they do? Beat and curse the livin' daylights out o' the crowd when things get hairy."

"The Great and Powerful Trixie cannot say if the Princess is a bad ruler, because she has never met her."

"A bad ruler? Aye, dependin' on who you ask, of course. Those royal folks throw parties and hobnob with foreign royalty, without knowin' what's going on right under their hooves. The Ironworks, now... there's a reason it's down here, and that's 'cause companies like this don't want nopony knowin' how they run things or really what they do behind their doors. Rubbish wages and rubbish workin' conditions. No regard for safety. And Celestia knows what's goin' on in the restricted sections of this place. Sure as the sun sets, we're fixin' for another riot before long."

Restricted sections...?

Again, Trixie wondered what had made this pony so chatty.

A bell rang. "It's that time, innit? Another day. Another twelve hours of breathin' smoke from the furnaces. Well, don't just stand there, time's wasting." He rose to his feet with a groan and flicked away the second cigarette. "Looks like that bloody idiot Brawny's on security again." He and Trixie left the courtyard, remembering to shut the gate behind them, and joined the loose group of ponies heading to morning check in.

Unlike the natural blue crystal lighting found throughout most of Nine, the outside of Canterlot Ironworks's factory was lit by electricity. This alone showed her employer's great power and influence. Electricity was such a new concept for most ponies to grasp, let alone the balky and extremely dangerous generators needed to produce it, that it was almost unheard of to see it in operation. Yet here it was, being used to power some of the factory's machines as well as the abrasive, blinding spotlights on the exterior walls.

Trixie hated them. They glared down onto the courtyard like the eyes of some evil beast.

Shift Seven (herself and about thirty others) collected in front of the security checkpoint and the outer gate shut behind them with a clang. For the next ten hours, there was no leaving this place.

"All right, you lot line up for head count! You bloody know the drill. Front and center, one deep." The ponies shuffled into position with a soft chorus of snorts and grumbles. Many of them were still half-awake. Time of day was impossible to tell in the Undercity, but it was only six in the morning and the security staff were more somnambulent than the workers themselves, as demonstrated by their short tempers and incessant yawning. Once the laborers had formed a unified line, Brawny and the rest of the security team verified each pony's credentials: a stamped copper badge, bearing that worker's name and likeness, and hung from a thin cord around their neck. Each one was double-checked and marked on a clipboard.

Trixie was fifth in line and the guard had started at the opposite end from her. There was no sound apart from the workers' movements and the sharp scratch of the quill. Partway along, a sharp outburst caught her attention.

"Flower Wishes?" the guard growled. "Something wrong with your badge?"

As the guard squinted at the embossed badge, trying to read it in the dim light, a few of the others had leaned forward, wondering at the delay. Trixie looked to her left and was amazed to see the mare standing there. Not that mares were forbidden from the sort of manual labor jobs the Undercity offered, but- definitely an oddity. She was the only female pony present apart from Trixie herself.

"New manecut," said the mare, in a dull voice.

"Get that fixed at human resources." Brawny handed the badge back to its quivering owner and moved on to the next in line. Trixie, however, took a closer look at her. Her mane was of uncertain color and hung limply around her neck like a wet curtain. She trembled and shot nervous glances from side to side; her demeanor suggested a pony uncomfortable with attention or perhaps one up to no good. An alcohol addict, probably. Just look at her face. She could have passed for a healthy Ponyville earth pony if not for her saggy, bloodshot eyes and oddly vacant visage. It was like looking at the shell of a pony that vitality had long since abandoned. Trixie shivered, without knowing why.

"Never seen her before," said the stallion standing to Trixie's right. "Maybe she's new?"

The bedraggled pony was lost in the milling throng of new arrivals, mostly from shifts one and four, and Trixie was left with her own thoughts. Has the Great and Powerful Trixie fallen so far that she is keeping company with such vagrants and low-class failures? She looked at her cloak that once had been studded with applique stars. It was now stained and tattered from her travels and tribulations and her matching hat was long gone- sold to a Los Pegasus thrift shop when times were hardest. She was no different from this unfortunate mare (apart from her remaining pride). It was a sobering thought.

Trixie shivered again and suddenly realized what had caused that sudden apprehensive feeling. It was her eyes. Flower Wishes's eyes were like looking into a pool without a visible bottom, two murky orbs that somehow seemed unhealthy. She couldn't put her hoof on it. Her own eyes sparkled back at her when she gazed into a mirror, quite unlike the mare's dull ones.

Once all the Shift Seven ponies were cleared through security, a guard ushered them into the building proper, and the day began.

---

Every day was the same. It started the same and ended the same. There was no reason to believe that this day, regardless of its beginning, would be any different. The baby-blue unicorn took her place among the procession of yawning, grumbling stallions as they began to head through the inner doors. No less than three sets of drab, depressing gray stone doorways lay between Trixie and 'hoof-count', or the attendance check for the specific department in which she worked.

From the janitors to the upper management, over six hundred ponies worked beneath the Ironworks' stone roof. Trixie, in particular, had a single job, and that was to pull a cart. It seemed a bit silly really- pull a cart? All this training Trixie endured, going through the motions about job safety, and they make it sound like lugging this bucking cart around is a dangerous thing to do. It's a cart. Although it was a cart specially modified to mount a water tank, moderately loaded at the start of shift, it was still only a cart. Her task was to ferry the tank around the gigantic warehouse and supply the thirsty ponies at the forges and testing stations with fresh water to drink.

The forges ran night and day; even though tending them was a grueling and filthy chore, they at least had the luxury of readily available water. The Ironworks wasn't that heartless. As she signed in at her station and strapped the heavy harness around her chest, she was thankful that he only had to handle a water cart. Other poor stallions had to pull backbreaking loads of metal or worse, shovel coal into the furnaces and breathe smoke for ten hours straight.

Pulling a cart is interesting for about ten minutes. Now, once those ten minutes are up, imagine pulling it for the next nine hours and fifty minutes, then doing it all again the next day- and for months after that, until your entire body is an amalgam of aches and saddle sores. Management was kind enough to take her gender into account and only fill the water tanks half-full, so that pulling it was not a crippling task, yet ten hours of hauling the cumbersome thing taxed Trixie's physique to no end. The straps rubbed against her sensitive abdomen and flanks. It was not enough to break skin, but enough to pinch and scratch painfully against her coat. Every day she trudged home with stabbing hoof pains.

Together with the lack of real sunlight and the awful hours, it would drive even the staunchest pony insane; to pass the time, she let her mind wander where it would.

Normally she might think about happier times in life (and, inevitably, become depressed at her rotten luck) but today, as Trixie wrestled her cart through narrow spaces, her thoughts turned to something that old pony had said.

The Ironworks, now... there's a reason it's down here, and that's 'cause companies like this don't want nopony knowin' how they run things or really what they do behind their doors. Rubbish wages and rubbish workin' conditions. No regard for safety. And Celestia knows what's goin' on in the restricted sections of this place.

The restricted sections.

Trixie began to sweat as she tugged the uncooperative cart underneath exposed industrial rigging. Those same pipes and corridors haunted her dreams at night, dreams of being lost in an unending building with no way out, before the stone crushed her to death.

Now that she thought about it, every nightmare since moving to the Undercity involved being crushed under stone.

When she was hired and shown around the areas of the building for which she had clearance, she had noticed that the structure was far larger than it appeared from the outside. This was partly because its short side faced the street. It was also because here, in this vast steamy inferno of clanging metal and throbbing machinery, only some of the floor space was visible. There were sectors off-limits to her and the majority of the other workers.

"Do your job and keep your nose out of the restricted areas, and you'll get along fine," the mare at the reception desk had said, handing her a freshly stamped copper badge.

Which is exactly what Trixie has done. Walk inside the lines, pull this cart around and never talk out of turn.

Her route led her past one of the newly installed backup electrical generators. It was under full load, its boilers red-hot and spitting steam like enraged dragons; the racket was such that her ears rang for ten minutes after leaving the area. Three of the ponies tending it had badly singed manes. They gave Trixie nonplussed stares as each one took his turn at the water tank. Only after she weaved her way back into the hoof traffic did she look back at the clattering generator and think: Why in all Equestria are they running these things so hot? It wasn't as if the lights and the conveyor belts required that much power. She knew next to nothing about the production of electricity but if it required such enormous machines and dangerous conditions, she wanted no part of it.

Trixie kept her steady pace, lost in her own private world, when she heard a gravelly voice behind her. "Sir, we just can't physically push these generators any harder. Do you see those pipes straining?"

"I've had enough of your excuses, Faraneigh. To complete the experiment we will need every ounce of power. Perhaps if we use a little unicorn magic to speed up the process..."

A group of three stallions and a griffon walked briskly past Trixie and paid her no more attention than a worm on the ground. The nearly pure-black griffon was, from what she could see, somepony of authority, and the other three tagged along in his wake. His voice oozed contempt and the reddish feathers around his neck were spread angrily.

Instinctively she moved the cart to the side of the walkway, out of the path of impatient management; this was part of her training. It was not part of her training, however, to ignore suspicious conversations, and the words being rapid-fired around the group weren't any Equestrian words that she knew.

"We've tried that and for whatever reason, a unicorn's magical energy does not agree with the electrical output. Not to say that it doesn't work but- there are complications. Depending on the strength of the unicorn's magic, and the angle from which the spell is cast, the windings can either become supercharged or break apart. Those outages we had last Tuesday were-"

"It's a risk we will have to take."

Faraneigh, a stocky pony with a light gray coat, pressed his point further. "As you know, sir, energy sufficient for the process is only achieved with one hundred ninety percent output from the generators, which we have only achieved for several seconds at a time. Enough to produce crude samples of the metal, but nothing more. Full production capacity is only at one hundred and fifty-five and the motors are at breaking point as it is. With all due respect, sir, I'm surprised these things haven't blown us all the way to Five by now."

Intrigued, Trixie began to pull the cart at a safe hearing distance from the group. "The process will require every generator running at peak capacity, Faraneigh. See to it that this is so," the griffon growled. "I am sure you know that converting iron to gold is something not easily done. The actual conversion takes place only when our magicians' transmutation spells are combined with a very high electrical current. The higher the current, the more pure the finished product will be. So get me more power." His talon pointed sharply at the others.

Trixie's route took her out of earshot of the group and they, just as she might have guessed, passed through an unmarked iron door with the menacing word RESTRICTED printed in red letters above its frame.

And just when Trixie thought this was going to be another boring day…

She moved to the southern quadrant of the factory, where the ponies in finishing were awaiting water with eager hooves. Here, freshly forged components were cleaned and checked for weakness before they were shipped to customers all over Equestria. These chunks of hammered iron might be destined to become bridge foundations, or supports for the next Manehatten skyscraper, but they needed to be free of defects before they could do so.

Trixie's mind was on anything but supplying the workers with water. She was thinking over what she had just overheard.

As far as she knew, it was impossible to simply cast a spell and completely change an element, like iron, into a different one, such as gold. The laws of matter might permit a few additions or subtractions- depending on a unicorn's magical skill- but otherwise they did not allow it. The only option was what Trixie's foalhood teacher had called 'artifices'. They were incantations of the Illusion school and often cast with the intent to deceive: for example, the iron would look like gold to all but the most discerning eyes. It would even feel like real gold. A simple counterspell, however, would reveal the truth.

Somehow the Ironworks had found a way to break these boundaries. But if they do not have the power- and why in all Equestria would they be doing it in the first place? The kingdom is rich with gold already.

Trixie moved the cart to the next station. She hoped that her trembling would not transfer to the cart and upset the water barrels; the truth was that she was very frightened. Nearly as frightened, in fact, as she had been when confronted by an angry twelve-foot-tall Ursa.

Angry crowds? She could handle that. What she couldn't handle, though, were things out of her control. Magical rampaging bears, for example. Or a factory filled with unstable machinery that was being run to the breaking point by a psychotic griffon.

She put her shoulders to the straps and moved on. Trixie wishes she could stop sweating...

Much like hoof pain and physical exhaustion, sweat was a constant in her life. Yet the sweat on her neck was as cold as the stones above. It was the chilly, clammy sweat of fear. The fear sat in her gut like an undigested meal and made her queasy.

The last stop on her route, at least until she refilled her tank and began again, was the main generator. The monstrous roaring thing was against the north wall and required no less than thirty ponies to fuel and control it. It was powered by twin boilers, both hunks of cold iron standing fifteen feet tall but, even so, these were dwarfed by the engine itself. It nearly brushed the ceiling and was a hideous contraption of gauges, pipes and valves of every shape and size. Day in and day out, it roared its unending metallic songs. The rotors and machinery inside its housing were what kept the Ironworks in business; if a backup generator went down, its loss could be suffered. Not so with this machine. The lights and superheated forges and conveyor belts were only secondary organs dependent on a heart.

Today, the heart beat with furious energy. Trixie approached the area with trepidation, and as the first workers lined up for water, shouts began to break out all around her.

"The main control valve's loose! Shut the bucking thing down NOW!"

"Somepony get over to safety and tell 'em we got a serious problem here! Those clamps can't take much more pressure-" then something hissed sharply- "get this thing powered down until these leaks are fixed!"

Things happened very fast after that. A mob of thirsty workponies rushed for her cart, their dirty coats streaked with soot and embers. They fought over the remaining water and, underneath their clamor, was a steadily growing shriek- the shriek of boilers pressurized to the breaking point and of an overloaded motor far exceeding its limits. Soon the ponies lost all interest in their water break. Many rushed back to the generator and their arguments were drowned by the clamor. Trixie found herself unable to move as the chaos unfolded around her. The noise built to an earsplitting scream; stallions hammered at various valves and turned knobs and in mere seconds the rotors were spinning at blinding speeds, too fast to see.

The beating heart of the factory was in cardiac arrest.

And then, when she began to back away from the scene, the unthinkable happened. A panicking stallion shoved his fellow- who, in turn, crashed right into Trixie's cart- and both stallion and cart went over with a crash, bringing Trixie with it. Water and splintered wood cascaded everywhere. The flames' long shadows made the cobblestones appear slick not from water, but fresh blood.

It would have been easy to break loose from the straps if not for the cart's frame, which held Trixie airborne and horizontal to the ground- not to mention the wet stones which were impossible to brace against. She had to use a levitation charm on the entire vehicle and, once the weight was held steady, conjure a pair of large scissors to snip away the tangled pieces of canvas. It was exquisite spellwork.

But does the Great and Powerful Trixie get any compliments? Of course not. She got to her hooves just as a series of explosions went off and a heavy iron pipe landed just inches from where the cart had been. A pony rushed to close the boilers' grates.

"This thing ain't gonna take much more!" he bellowed. "You there! You're a unicorn, use your fancy magic an' hold those two valves open so the boiler'll lose some o' its juice. Ya see that valve there on top? If that thing goes, this whole place's comin' down on us!"

Had she hit her head when the cart rolled? It took Trixie a few moments to realize that the stallion was, in fact, talking to her. More valuable seconds went by while she searched her memory for the necessary spell. Trixie thinks a locking spell should do the trick. She fed the power into her horn…

…and stopped. The dizziness was becoming unbearable. She could barely see, let alone manipulate spells, and the generator screamed like a dragon being boiled alive. Where was her pain coming from? Trixie brushed a hoof across her face and it came away scarlet with blood. Concentrating on the magic only made the sudden pain in her head intensify. All around her were shouts and crashes; she noticed none of this. The workers ran in slow motion.

A pony now stood in Trixie's path. This pony was not the same one that, moments ago, instructed her to shut the valves. It was a mare with straight hair and a bright pink coat strangely untouched by the smoke and steam.

With comic slowness, this unknown mare turned to the nearest boiler and yanked the grate shut with a clang. She then turned various knobs and stood back as the thing began to build up insurmountable pressure. Trixie needed no advanced training to know that the boiler had only moments before its imminent destruction. Where is the blood coming from?! She wiped her streaming eyes again, harder this time, and dislodged a ragged shard of metal from her forehead that was nearly the length of her horn. Funny, Trixie does not remember it going in.

Removing the sliver brought a blinding spike of pain, but also a moment of clarity, and in that moment the mare turned to her and smiled. It was a thing of horror, a frightening evil leer with bulging eyes. In a fraction of a second the whole boiler exploded.

The closest pony simply ceased to exist. This was the one who had yelled at Trixie to close the grates. Being only a foot away from the detonation, he was instantly flash-fried and pulped by a piece of boiler three times his size; the stallion next to him met a crueler fate when a flying pipe impaled his chest and he was conscious for a few more seconds- seconds to scream as his body was scalded by superheated steam. These two deaths paled in comparison, though, to what came next. Due to whatever genius had placed the boilers close to either side of the generator, the shockwave threw airborne metal right into the intakes and a poor pony along with it.

All it took was a single foreign object, and the motor became a spinning meat grinder of loose parts. Three more workers were chewed to bloody ribbons by the rotor as it detached from its axle, tore through the protective cowl around it, and went sailing right at Trixie.

She summoned the last of her magic and conjured a shield. The wreckage ricocheted off the barrier as if from immovable stone. Seconds later, the other boiler succumbed to stress and went up with a ringing boom. As debris flew in slow motion all around her and shimmered harmlessly against her defenses, she could only think of one thing.

That pony… She smiled as she set the boiler up to explode.

Trixie remembers her! The pony at check-in this morning, with the weird eyes! It was she that set the generator to explode, but why?

The detonation had obliterated her along with the rest. Her final gesture, though, would stay with Trixie until her dying day.

The eyes… like black pools of death, staring into her very soul and dissecting it.

Trixie was so transfixed by the maelstrom of death around her, and the memory of the mysterious pony, and the crippling effort it took to maintain the circular magical barrier around her, that she completely forgot to look up. The rotor had bounced off her shield and ate into the ceiling with all its kinetic energy, freeing many thousands of pounds of stone.

Stars danced before her eyes as the roof collapsed onto her.

Story update finally! I've been out of it for a while for various reasons but only started writing again a week ago. I re-watched Season 3 & 4 and have a good idea on how I want to start wrapping this story up, and you'll start to see it in the next part of this chapter. Hope you enjoy:)

October 11

9:37 P.M.

"Elizabeak?" called Fluttershy, timidly.

There was no answer. Not that she expected one, and the stillness ate her words. Her breath froze and the air she inhaled to replace it was so cold that she coughed on reflex. The two scarves tucked up to the top of her muzzle did nothing to soothe its bite. The first bout of coughing brought another, and another, until it felt like her lungs were being stabbed with icy swords. Her eyes watered; the moisture formed icicles and cracked on her cheeks. Soon she was on her knees and wheezing for each painful breath.

Falling to her knees produced its own set of problems. She fell through the fragile crust and floundered in the powder beneath, nearly knee-deep. It was the consistency of sugar, only extremely cold, and her hoof slipped on a rock concealed beneath its surface. The ground came up to meet her with sudden speed. Fluttershy found herself face-first in freezing snow, with her legs splayed out in all four directions, and fighting for air. The inhaled snow made her coughing worse.

It wasn't a very dignified way to conduct a rescue mission, and she got to her hooves feeling as if the entire Everfree Forest was laughing at her. That is, if there had been any living creatures in this place to do the laughing. There weren't any.

Her coughs sounded awfully loud. Either that, or the acoustics of the forest were messing with her hearing again. She was at the bottom of a shallow ravine which had at some point carried water. At ankle level were smooth stones and the gentle sandy curves which only a stream could produce, perhaps a tributary of the much larger river Rush which flowed southeast through Ponyville to Horseshoe Bay and the sea. Its steady flow had long since frozen over. Now it held fallen trees and stunted gorse bushes, and all were heavy with frost. The ravine floor itself was wide enough for seven or eight ponies to walk side-by-side. Getting in and out was easier said than done, especially with the dead thornbushes lining the stream's steep banks, and so for the moment she was sticking to the flat earth in the bottom. Its upward slope was nearly unnoticeable.

Given enough time, it would probably take her east, to the Rambling Rocks and windswept badlands beyond. Neither sounded like good places to visit. Already she was farther out in the forest than what she felt comfortable with, and on the eastern side of the Rush as well. This was strange country. She much preferred the flatter, earthier regions opposite the river and closer to home. True, the bogs posed their own set of difficulties, but in her experience the forest was more hospitable on the western side. Here, it felt more... Mysterious. A little more wild and out-of-control.

The land, to start with. It grew steadily more elevated and treacherous. Strange hills and ridges rose from the earth like buried buildings. What wildlife existed here was solitary; the trees, more farther apart, and in some cases in grotesque positions of death- brought down by storms, or falling boulders, or even by the teeth and claws of unknown (but very large) beasts. There were less deciduous trees and more evergreens.

Its disorder was in fact the only helpful thing Fluttershy had on her side tonight. There were so many unique landmarks that it was impossible to get lost. Each blasted stump or rockfall was a breadcrumb leading her back home.

She recited it in her head: the red rock, those two oaks with the bird nests, the tree stump in the clearing, the rockslide, the riverbank. Even if the snow covered her tracks, she could follow it.

Finally overcoming the coughs, she gasped and took measured breaths to get her spasming lungs under control. She climbed out of the streambed and told herself, for the fifteenth time, that it was impossible for a chicken to climb trees. She should know better than anypony. Chickens were heavy birds, and could gain a few feet of height from a running start and lots of wing-flapping, but to perch in one of these towering firs would require much bigger wings. Or a much lighter body structure. Elizabeak had neither.

But if my poor Elizabeak isn't down here on the ground, then where else could she be?

Yet she looked fearfully up into the boughs of every tree she passed. On the ground there was not even a puff of wind to be found, but the branches were another story. They might catch mysterious breezes from higher up, or creak ominously under stresses known only to them. Each tiny sound of the forest had her on edge.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of being miles away from Ponyville. The memory of her last foray into the Everfree, and its aftermath, was enough to petrify her forelegs and root her to the earth. Can he still see me? That stallion, all in black with the shadows behind him? He's out there somewhere, watching...

In one hoof she held an oil lantern. Encased in sturdy glass, the flame did not falter, and illuminated a slender set of bird tracks pressed into the snow. The chicken was too light to break the frozen crust on the banks of the creek, but Fluttershy wasn't, and every now and then she would take a bad step and sink into four inches of subzero powder. It made for slow and noisy going. Also, the fresh snow was beginning to fill up Elizabeak's tracks. Another hour and the evidence would be buried and soon frozen. Her hooves were four blocks of ice inside her boots. With a quick motion, she cracked the ice away from her muzzle. The scarves were seizing up again. Her outer jacket was so permeated with frost that it could have stood on its own, with no assistance from her body.

Even for a pony very good at reading and interpreting the signs of animals, this was a difficult trail to follow; at times the gait and the distance between each footprint would vary, as if the poor chicken was running by fits and starts. The trail vanished beneath a thorny gorse bush and Fluttershy was in no hurry to follow it under. Just as she had predicted, the tracks reappeared several feet away, accompanied by a loose feather still clinging to the brambles. She saw the feather and had to choke back sudden tears.

It had been easy to follow the bird at first. In the fresh snowfall left in the meadow around her house, Elizabeak's feet made a clear track. The footprints were as straight as a ruler. It was only recently that the trail became meandering and spotty. Under these silent and watchful pines, where the ground was as hard as beaten iron, the trail sometimes disappeared altogether.

Chickens were smart creatures, after all, and they knew how to survive in cold weather. It was a familiar sight: every morning and night, the pony would carry fresh water to her chicken coop as well as logs for the heater. Contented bird faces stared up at her from the floor. There was ample room for fifteen chickens on the perches, but instead of exposing themselves to the drafts, each bird lay down close to the next one until a sort of barrier was formed. The feathered bodies instinctively banded together to share warmth and the stronger members of the flock would place the weaker ones, as well as the chicks, in the center where the body heat was strongest. It warmed her heart to see her beloved animals working together to get through what was turning out to be a viciously cold winter. In her twenty-one years Fluttershy had never seen one like this.

She clenched the lantern's cold iron ring in her teeth to keep them from chattering. This freed her hoof and allowed her to move faster. In a way, she envied the rest of the chickens and her other animals, safe in their huts with a stove and insulated walls to keep them warm. The lantern was useless as a heat source and even though Fluttershy wore nearly all of her winter clothes at once- boots, wool socks, three jackets, two scarves and one of Rarity's handmade hats- the night's chill ignored this equipment and went right for any chinks in her clothing.

Far above, a brown owl hooted. Her ears were sensitized to the silence and the owl's cry was louder than the point-blank roar of a manticore. She jumped and shrieked in fright, falling with all four hooves onto a loose branch that had been brought down by the storm of two days ago. It snapped with a strident crack and she tumbled backwards into the thorns. It was her second undignified fall in as many minutes. Cheeks burning, she huddled beneath the gorse bush's glazed branches, long after the owl had flown away and its ghastly whooooo had faded into silence.

You can do this, Fluttershy.

Her trembling legs told her otherwise. But Elizabeak is out here in this awful weather and she needs you to rescue her. My poor darling will freeze to death if I don't.

She emerged from the bush covered in icy powder, her hat askew. The sudden fear of the owl seemed way out of proportion to its cause. Her pet's tracks were easily found, a few feet from the lip of the riverbed. She just was not sure she wanted to know where they led- or for that matter, why the chicken had wandered this far into the Everfree Forest at night.

I'm bundled up and still freezing... if she stays out much longer in this, she'll freeze to death and- The thought was too heartbreaking to entertain. Instead, as she took careful steps on the ice, she thought about why only Elizabeak, and none of the other birds, had left the coop's safety. Everything about it struck her as odd.

Fluttershy, afraid as she was of going out at night, had shut the chickens and her other outdoor-dwelling creatures in well before sundown. The other animals remained inside the house with her. Another pony might call her unstable, even paranoid. But they hadn't seen what she had seen... in the forest, on the way back from Zecora's. She had faced something on that day- something horrible- that defied all reason. Ever since then she had kept an eye over her shoulder. Or two eyes, because hay, it couldn't hurt.

She locked herself in the house well before daylight died and made sure that every possible entrance, window, loose floorboard, or crack was locked and guarded, but there wasn't a lock in all Equestria that was strong enough to give her a good night's sleep. Had it been Twilight who said that she looked tired? Or Applejack? Either way, it seemed years ago, even though it was only a week since the lunch at Sugarcube Corner. None of her friends had visited afterward. Fluttershy certainly hadn't made any efforts to see them either. Wasn't it strange that not even one of her PFFs had stopped by her house? Unless the black stallion was after her friends too.

It all became quickly mixed up in her head. She was afraid for her poor chicken, and for her friends as well, and for her own safety. The terror was a little too much for one pony to handle. Besides, thinking about her friends only brought back more tears, and she knew by now that tears quickly froze in this weather.

"I have to keep going. I have to keep going." She recited it like a manetra, as if saying it enough times would convince her to do it. Her entire frame shook; she reluctantly left the safety of the streambank and found Elizabeak's tracks.

I went outside to gather in some more wood... and the garden gate was open...

She pressed on. Hoof by hoof she followed the footprints. On her left, a gentle ridge began to rise up, and a line of forbidding pines marked where the flattening creek bed separated from the rocky ground beyond. These were strong evergreens with branches sagging downward from the weight of the ice. She thought it strange that they grew in such an ordered pattern: nearly six or seven feet between each tree, and clustered close to where the ridge was tallest. Fluttershy soon found herself pinned between these trees and the thornbushes. The trail curved sharply left around a tangle of aspens. And, like a torch suddenly smothered, the chicken's track vanished. She had apparently run around the aspens and onto an open, perfectly flat clearing and- climbed a tree?

...There was snow all over the yard and I couldn't see the hoofprints of whoever had opened my gate, but the chicken coop was open too, and when I checked, Elizabeak was gone...

Elizabeak had been at a full run. Each bird footprint was spread far apart, and midway through the clearing, they disappeared. Fluttershy walked in circles and looked under bushes, hoping against hope that it was only the snow which had covered up the tracks. It was the disturbed snow that kept catching her eye, though. Shortly after the tracks ended, something had made a large imprint and broken through the ice. She ran to it.

It was only then that she understood where she was, and why this beautifully silent piece of forest seemed so level. There was a pond underneath her hooves. An inch of ice separated her from a watery, hypothermic grave. Whatever had disturbed the snow had crashed right through the pond's crust and left a jagged hole behind. Beneath was pitch-black water. She swept at the snow with trembling hooves. Perhaps there would be more of the trail when the fresh powder was cleared away...

...and her trail led right into the Everfree Forest, as if something was hot on her heels. Hopefully not another manticore.

Except there was no trail. Beneath the surface was evidence of some sort of struggle: scratches, hairline cracks in the ice, and jagged indentations. Reptilian footprints were everywhere, of a large and sinister size. And by the rim of the hole, a splash of dark maroon color. The blood was fresh.

Elizabeak...

At her wit's end, Fluttershy sat down on the ice- ignoring the soft crack as it began to fracture under her weight- and burst into tears.

I lost her... my oldest chicken, the one Applejack gave to me as a chick when I was seventeen.

"Elizabeak?!" she called, hoarse from sobbing. "Elizabeak!" She can't be gone. She's hiding in a tree, waiting for her mommy to come and take her home. She has to be.

Here, it seemed to be even colder than in the other parts of the forest. The air in her throat was a visceral, burning pain; it stabbed right through her clothing and sought out her heart, with intent to kill. Fluttershy looked around and stopped short. The ridge she followed was in fact the foundation to a low-slung stone wall which ran three-quarters of the way around the pond. Upon closer inspection, it looked indescribably ancient, perhaps hundreds or even thousands of years old. The stones were weathered and cracked and many had fallen out, but it was something beyond the wall that held Fluttershy in thrall, and not the wall itself.

He was there. Sandwiched between two stalwart pine trees, nearly invisible against their foliage, but obvious all the same. Tonight he was on all four legs and there was no wind to stir his coal-black mane. Fluttershy had never been this close to the mysterious dark stallion before. She could have picked up a rock and reached him with an easy throw. As always, there was something about his face that made her avert her eyes, so she focused on what she could see. His coat was actually a dusky gray, but he stood back amongst the pine needles, so not much below his shoulders was visible. The way his mane fell around his chalk-white face, in very loose waves, somehow reminded her of Rarity.

He was so familiar to Fluttershy by now that to see him here only brought a mild wave of fear, and more comfort than dread. Will he hurt me? If he wanted to kill me, wouldn't he have done it by now? For five days he's been following me, watching me, but never this close.

Fluttershy didn't move. The stallion didn't move. She tried to move her gaze from his unkempt mane to his face... and was struck by a wave of revolting, sickening horror. There was a face there, or what a pony's face would look like if it was made of wax and then melted, distended and stretched into impossible shapes, and in motion. It was like a painted sack filled with slowly writhing snakes. Graveworms stuffed into a rotten pumpkin. An animated scarecrow, a mockery of life.

Or perhaps there was nothing at all wrong with his face and it was her own vision that was deficient.

There was no way to know how long she and the stallion stood staring at each other. Time had lost its meaning. So, too, had the cold. Either it had suddenly thawed to vernal temperatures or the hypothermia had already begun its painless bite. Her hooves felt almost toasty. Her ears filled with a blank buzzing. There seemed to be a shimmering field around him, hovering just above his coat, like a magical spell. It quickly made her eyelids grow heavy.

Given how large it was, and the ice cracking beneath the giant flexing scaly feet, it was a marvel that the thing could move with such quiet precision. The only indication Fluttershy had was the wet plopping noise behind her, of something hitting the ice and sliding up to her feet. She turned to face the other creature and, considering what it was, strangely felt nothing at all. In fact, she nearly laughed at its absurdity. Nine heads? What sort of mutated abomination had nine heads? And they were attached to sinewy necks, grafted to the body of a dragon, or giant scorpion, or a union of the two. It walked on four massive clawed legs, and its tail was a writhing tentacle terminating in evil-looking spikes. The spikes were the length of Fluttershy's body. Definitely not a manticore.

It was indeed the same monster she had seen with her own eyes near Zecora's hut. She found herself giggling, for no apparent reason, and all desire to flee had melted away. Even as it produced additional tentacles from somewhere and extended them across the ground toward her, she stayed in place. Behind her was the black stallion, shrouded in mists and extending his bedeviling spell toward Fluttershy.

It reached for her. The tentacles wrapped around her body like the embrace of a lover. Two yawning black mouths came closer and closer, their smiles rimmed with razor-sharp fangs. They exhaled the odor of death.

This isn't a bad way to go… I only wish I could see my friends one last time…

Then, somewhere in the background was an explosion of earth-rattling force. And what was that wailing noise? Whatever it was, the creature holding her in its grasp wasn't happy about it. Those mouths roared with sudden ferocity. Suddenly Fluttershy was thrown into the air, five feet, ten feet. A tentacle lashed her face as it retracted.

That relaxing buzz in her ears cut off. There were shouts in the background, terrible roars, and the flashes of magic spells. The noises were like that of a dozen battling Hydras. Another explosion (much larger than the first) lit the trees with brilliant cobalt light. Is this Twilight and my friends, coming to rescue me? She had just enough time to shake off the disorientation before her body struck the nearest tree.

Sliced by leaves and sharp branches, she staggered to her feet, and in the clearing an unbelievable battle was unfolding.

The black stallion was burning. Violet flames licked at his scarred gray coat and his mane was already scorched away. Beneath his shifting skin, the worms screamed. He turned to face Fluttershy but his powers were broken. No fear or hypnosis emanated from him. He screamed, an awful hoarse attack on her ears, and the spectral pony took two steps toward her before collapsing into embers and pieces of smoking corpseflesh. But the true battle was farther out on the ice.

There was the monster, and that streak of blue- Princess Luna?

The horror moved much faster than its size would suggest. Tentacles flailed everywhere, uprooting trees, smashing holes in the pond, trying desperately to catch its opponent. It leapt from the ice and nearly slipped a claw around the Princess's body. Luna conjured fire and magical shields and beams of destructive force, and she had the advantage of flight. The power of her spells levelled entire stands of trees; a stray fireball arced into the lake, where it blew chunks of ice and superheated steam skyward. Fluttershy's ears were deafened from the monster's roars.

The alicorn landed in front of Fluttershy and unleashed the full fire of the Moon.

The flames were cerulean, then sky-blue, and nearly pure white as the magic stoked them to infernal temperatures. They howled with lethal intent. How can anything survive that? Yet the horror still stood intact as the fire screamed around it. No- it was burning now, doing its best to dodge the blaze.

"Run, Fluttershy!" Princess Luna shouted. "Now, while the beast is distracted-"

But her knees were made of rubber, so cold and stiff from fear that moving was impossible.

The terrified pony hesitated for a moment. So did the Princess, whose head was turned toward Fluttershy. In that moment, a tree swung at Luna at speeds nearly too fast to see. She snapped up a shield, but not quite fast enough, and the majority of its force connected. Luna's silver battle helmet shattered from the impact. She flew through the ancient stone wall, crashed into a pine tree, and slumped in a heap on the ground.

Fluttershy didn't remember stepping forward and confronting the monster, but she did. It just seemed the right thing to do. The words from her mouth were not hers, but those of the other Fluttershy, the pony who did what the ordinary bashful Fluttershy could never do. "How DARE you hurt Princess Luna, you… you… you BULLY!" And she unleashed her Stare.

'Bully' was the only insult that came to mind, even though the abomination was obviously much more than a bully. It had murdered Elizabeak and would no doubt do the same to the Princess, and it was this thought that gave her Stare extra fortitude. Its attention was fixed only on Fluttershy: this diminutive pony, nothing more than a fawn-colored face poking out of shapeless clothing, and her two radiating eyes. Those eyes held a power that was the utter opposite of its own.

The Stare was righteous fire. It burned so brightly, and so suddenly, that the nine-headed nightmare forgot about Princess Luna- feebly stirring beneath the wreckage of the stones and fallen trees- and recoiled from its force.

Yet the power in opposition to Fluttershy's final effort was old and strong. It was enraged at the death of its servant, although this pony's resistance was far more maddening. Her very existence made it seethe and roar with rage. Like a tree bending beneath gale-force winds, Fluttershy's Stare was first halted, then slowly, inexorably pushed back. Those heads had a Stare of their own, and it was far more powerful. It bent its evil will toward the Pegasus.

And with it, the tentacles.

Fluttershy's Stare winked out of existence. A moment later, two twin spears of blinding pain exploded through her chest. It was so sudden that shock set in before she had time to scream.

As her own blood dripped down the tentacles lodged in her breast, she heard a hideous grating sound. It was the sound of laughter. It's laughing… it's happy that I'm going to die. The pain was buried beneath layers of hypothermia and shock, but even so, she still felt what came next. Two of the massive claws grasped each of her forelegs, and pulled.

It's tearing me apart…

There was torture, and then blackness.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: NIGHT MARES (PART TWO)

Ponyville

10:31 P.M.

"So… You and Applejack, you never…"

"No!" said Rarity emphatically. It came out more indignant than she had intended. Bryn, seated close to her at the dining room table, stifled a grin. "Of course there were… signs, and that one night at Rainbow Dash's fourteenth birthday party."

She dropped the subject with an imperious air and hoped Bryn would do the same. But he leaned forward on his elbows and gazed over the rim of his teacup, with those bewitching green eyes that she couldn't resist, and obviously he expected her to continue. Even now, five years after that night, Rarity blushed uncomfortably.

"What happened at the party?" he asked.

"A lady never kisses and tells," said Rarity, and realized too late what she had just said. Bryn fell onto the table from laughter. "Bryn Hansen, I will have you know that four ponies kissed me before the night was through. We were all wild from Applejack's cider and Pinkie Pie had decided to start a game of truth or mare."

"Truth or dare, you mean?" He knew the rules to that game, having played it once at his friend Aaron's house.

"No, truth or mare. One pony asks a question, and if the other answers it wrong, they have to- kiss somepony else, a mare of their own choice. Colts or stallions aren't allowed in the game. I never saw the attraction, personally, but I was only a teeneigher and it was just the five of us, in Applejack's barn. Long before we met Twilight." Embarrassed by the part she was about to tell, Rarity drank more tea and pulled her shawl tighter.

A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, propped on a twinkling bed of coals that inundated the kitchen of Carousel Boutique with light and warmth. Several candles still burned in the showroom and in the hallway heading upstairs, an oil lamp hung on the wall. The kitchen was always the warmest place in Rarity's house. Its lavender drapery and warm woodcarvings made it feel cozy and inviting even with no heat; with a fire close at hand, it was perfect, and the chill in Bryn's chest was thawed in short order by the tea and the company. There was no place warmer than at Rarity's side. It didn't escape his notice that she chose the chair nearest him, and the closeness was exciting.

It was late. Outside the windows of the Boutique was murky frigid blackness. Upstairs, Sweetie Belle was already asleep, with a belly full of clover soup and exhausted from playing with the other Crusaders all day. Bryn and Rarity were still up and sat at one side of the dining room table, wrapped in knit blankets. They had intended to head right to their respective bedrooms after dinner, which was a quick and subdued affair, but found themselves still resolutely awake.

Back home, thought Bryn, I wouldn't even be thinking of going to bed yet. I might be playing my guitar or reading to Serena or playing video games… The lack of artificial light was still startling to him. This far into winter, dusk arrived with startling speed, and by six in the evening most of the light was already gone. Business was conducted by lamp or candle. His mind and habits told him to stay awake, but his exhausted body disagreed, and besides, he was finally enjoying some exclusive time with his pony hostess. For once, there was no appointment to keep, no friend to rescue, nothing except each other. He couldn't keep his eyes away from the unicorn. Wrapped in a baby blue shawl with her mane let down and bathed in firelight, she was a vision of perfect loveliness, and he wanted to make the most of his time with her. He fought the fatigue.

Rarity, meanwhile, was being kept awake by the tea (caffeine affected a pony much more strongly than it would a human) and by the aftereffects of an adrenaline-fueled adventure. Given the opportunity, she would fall asleep in minutes.

"On their birthday, it's tradition for a pony to receive gifts, but only after the party is wrapped up. You know Rainbow Dash. She had just moved from Cloudsdale that spring and it was her first birthday in Ponyville. Even then, she could never do things quietly or simply. It just had to be the finest party that bits could buy. The poor Cakes worked on her birthday cake for hours, and between her parents and Pinkie Pie, the party lasted all day.

"Then, there was a lovely dance and the opening of presents, out at Applejack's place. One thing leads to another and we're up way past our bedtimes. Applejack starts passing out more cider," continued Rarity with flushed cheeks, as if she was determined to finish the story now that she had started it. "Now keep in mind that Rainbow Dash is only fourteen. Pegasi aren't known for their resistance to alcohol, and she was never big for her age. She's tossing back mug after mug like the world's running out of cider. It was my turn, and I asked her what Equestria's fashion capital was. Everypony knows that it's Manehatten. Well, except for Rainbow Dash."

"Manehatten…" Bryn shook his head at yet another, to him, silly horse-related pun, but he was getting used to it. He wanted to tell her that there was a Manhattan in his own world. The coincidence was puzzling, yet Rarity was still telling her story, so he kept silent and listened.

"Hush, you. Anyway, Rainbow doesn't know and couldn't give two horseapples about fashion, so she has to kiss somepony. She can barely see but lays one on Applejack- I think because she was the closest. Now Applejack picks me, and asks me how many cows were on her farm. I say ten. It turns out there were twelve, but-" and here Rarity's cheeks blazed scarlet. She missed Bryn's worried expression.

Bryn, of course, was thinking not of Rarity's giggly story, but of its ramifications. He did some quick mental math in his head. Five years ago, and Rainbow Dash was fourteen. Would that make Rarity… twenty-one?

I'm only fifteen. How am I supposed to tell Rarity, and if I do, will that make her think of me any differently? Am I considered a child in her world? She's an adult in mine.

The irony was that he looked much older than fifteen. His classmates would doubt their sanity if they could see him now. Dressed in Rarity's handmade ensemble, he stood straighter and carried himself with more authority. Perhaps it was the strange Equestrian air working wonders on his health, but if he had looked into a mirror at that precise moment, he would have thought himself much older and stronger. Gone was the gangly, awkward teen from Eureka. I might pass for eighteen here, but back on Earth they'd see right through it. Rarity doesn't need to know how old I am.

She doesn't need to know about my powers, either.

Rarity's voice brought him out of this train of thought. "…and now I had to choose a pony to kiss. Applejack was to the right of me and all I can remember is how she was looking at me. Like she was hungry and I was a slice of apple pie. Before I knew what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed me. I was going to pick Fluttershy, to be honest."

All the talk of kissing was making Bryn sweat. "Umm… and how was it?"

"Messy," admitted Rarity. "And Applejack didn't want to let go. Pinkie eventually laughed loud enough to break us apart, but she was kissing me like I was her special somepony. She must have felt that way about me, even back then. Those times she wanted me over for sleepovers, or ice cream nights, were her way of getting closer to me." She heaved a great sigh. "And then two weeks ago, we ran into each other outside of the quill shop and she made her feelings clear. I was shocked and dismissive… I should have been more caring."

A shadow crossed Rarity's face at the mention of Pinkie Pie. Her disappearance still sat at the forefront of their minds, as the search of the forest had been unsuccessful, and they had agreed to address the problem in the morning.

Morning was not far away and here they were, fighting the night with each tired blink of their eyelids. Bryn took Rarity's hoof and held it in his hand. "We'll find Pinkie, Rarity. We can put up signs and get your other friends to help."

"I know." To Rarity, the touch of Bryn's warm strong hand was like a jolt of magic. A tightening sensation coursed through her body. It happened every time he touched her, and she was defenseless against it. She had to look away from those piercing eyes. He kept his hand locked around the dainty white hoof; Rarity didn't pull away.

"Do you think it's wrong for… two mares to feel that way about each other?" wondered Bryn, after a long pause. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. "I mean- back where I come from, people are always saying stuff. There was this kid at my old school, he liked boys instead of girls, and these bullies would call him 'gay' and 'faggot' and beat him up. If someone likes who they like, it's their business. Big deal."

Rarity's eyebrows furrowed at the strange terms, but his conviction would have moved somepony much more stubborn than her. She sighed heavily. "Whatever Applejack feels about me, the fact is that she's my friend, and that is what matters."

"I hope she's okay..."

"Me too. I want her to know that I love her, as a friend, just not in the way she wishes I could love her." Rarity bit back the remainder of what she was going to say, because her voice became thick and wavering with tears.

She saw no easy way to help her farmer pony friend through this difficult problem. To agree to Applejack's wishes and accept her advances would be lying to herself, because dishonest love wasn't love at all, and to snub her completely only left Applejack with the pain of a broken heart and a love that would never be experienced. Bryn came to her rescue. "Tomorrow we'll go to Sweet Apple Acres and settle things… maybe we can help her with the barn too. We'll be too tired to help if we stay up much longer, though. I'll do the dishes if you want to get ready for bed first."

Yet he held her hooves for a moment longer than was necessary. He blew out the candles in the showroom and gathered the mugs and stacked plates into the sink. Without unicorn magic to assist him in washing and drying, the process took a few extra minutes, but he stacked the clean dishes in the rack and made sure the fire had enough fuel for another hour or so.

In the three hours Bryn had kept the fireplace burning, as well as the fuel needed to stoke the cookstove and prepare dinner, the entire stockpile of logs in the back mudroom was consumed. Well… I did promise to do all the chores. I'll just carry a few in from out back so it's ready for tomorrow morning.

The fire threw excellent heat. Even so, it had its limits, and he found them when he opened the Boutique's back door. A creeping corona of subzero air pressed in on the house. It made its way past the back door and even into the corners of the kitchen. He put his bare hands on the doorknob and had to bite back a cry of pain: the metal was coated with hard frost and painful to the touch. Already uncomfortable and on the way to shivering, he hurried to scoop up an armful of logs from the outside pile and brought them inside. He stopped on the way back in and made the mistake of looking at the forest only a stone's throw away.

Staring out from Rarity's back porch was like staring into the depths of a dark and mysteriously empty closet. Or, Bryn thought, like the attic in my old house. It had that trap door on the ceiling and if you looked up into it, all you would see was blackness, but something more as well. The sense that the space was not yours. Tonight, it was darker than a night had the right to be. If there was a moon present, the low-hanging clouds kept it hidden, and the surrounding trees were so shadowy that they drank up the surrounding gloom, like a black hole of branches. They played tricks on the eyes if he stared at them long enough. He quickly hurried back indoors, feeling suddenly nervous about standing so close to the tree line, and shut the cold out with the creeping fog.

He turned and Rarity was right behind him. He jumped.

"Everything all right, love? Perhaps I should-" and her horn glistened. The door's lock engaged with a rusty but reassuring click. Around him, each blind and windowbox and shutter followed suit. He watched as she wandered around Carousel Boutique's ground floor and cast a variety of spells on the windows and doors; then, a shimmery glow burst from her horn into the canvas walls where it clung like dewdrops.

"Reinforcement charm," she said matter-of-factly. Noticing his curious stare, she gave a little shudder. "I just feel better locking the place up tight tonight."

Looking once more at the back door, which separated their snug kitchen from the frozen darkness on the other side, he couldn't argue with that logic. They blew out the kitchen candles and headed upstairs to bed.

Bryn was afraid the second story would be unbearably cold, but the fire's warmth had wafted upward during the past few hours. The hallway at least was pleasant. The silence, though… that was different. Not a single puff of wind or creak of heavy tent fabric broke the calm. "See you bright and early tomorrow, Rarity?"

"Mm-hmm," she said quietly. In the dim hallway, Bryn bent to hug her goodnight. Kneeling down put his head slightly below hers. He held the unicorn close to him, with one hand behind her ears, and planted a kiss on her snowy white cheek. It wasn't something he consciously thought about; it was a simple kiss, although one loaded with emotion, and perhaps Rarity read more into it than was intended.

He was halfway down the hall to his bedroom when she called to him in a low voice. "Bryn?"

"Yeah."

Even at seven feet he could see the blush rising on her cheeks. "Umm…" Like a filly, she fidgeted and looked at her hooves. Bryn had never seen her act like a love-struck teenager before. In a flash, she appeared to master her emotions, and she took a deep breath. "My room is awfully cold. I was wondering if… well, if you might help a lady stay warm tonight."

"Sure." Right now he hated the sound of his voice, and hated the fact that he had nothing flirty or confident on the tip of his tongue. He felt much like he had when he met Caitlin for the first time. Even though he knew that there was nothing to fear, it was unexplored territory that he was about to venture into, and his heart thumped so rapidly he was afraid Rarity could hear it. He followed her into her bedroom. Dollhouse meets magical fairy kingdom? The sheer girlishness of it all took his breath away. This was Rarity's room, though, and he had to respect it.

A girl's room is like her diary: private, safe, confidential, and for her alone. Only those she trusts completely are allowed access. He couldn't know that Rarity's room looked a lot like the inside of a Barbie dollhouse for a reason. The furnishings were many of the same ones she had had since foalhood. Each pillow and hoof-carved table were tied to memories, and the four-poster bed hung with billowy lavender curtains was the one and only bed she had ever owned. True, the room had been updated with a sprinkling of modern Manehatten design trends, but these objects and surroundings made Rarity feel at home, and therefore they stayed. Bryn was now stepping into her most private sanctuary. Not only that, but she had invited him.

"My bedroom," she said. Her hooves made no noise on the teal carpeted floor. She pulled back the sheets with her magic and sat down on the bed, her flank turned toward him suggestively. "You should get undressed first, you know. There's plenty of room for us both."

Is this a dream?

A slender ray of moonlight broke through the cloud cover. Some cosmic roll of the dice, some random chance, made it land just outside the window; its light caught Rarity and he wondered if moonlight had been invented only for her coat. She shone as if she were made of liquid argent.

Somehow his hand got stuck trying to undo his cloak's buttons. Then the pants refused to part ways with his body, and all the while his pulse raced. "Um... you might need to help me."

"It is quite all right," she soothed, sensing his panic. As she spoke, Rarity slid across the sheets to him. "There is only the two of us sharing our warmth on a cold night."

She cast a spell. His buttons unfastened themselves, and he was only in his boxers while the winter moon shone down on the darkened land and the frosty air made goosebumps rise on his arms and legs. His bare feet were faring much worse. Getting in bed with Rarity was the prudent thing to do, but that wasn't why he hesitated. His desire to lay close to her was eclipsed only by his fear of doing or saying the wrong thing- what if my shyness turns her off? What if she wants more and I don't know what to do?

Rarity's eyes and body told two different stories: she sat up with crossed back hooves like an attentive student, waiting for his response, but her eyes had a devious twinkle in them. She glanced at his bare chest and bit her lip with the tiniest of winks. He stared back with a multitude of emotions raging inside him. She was too perfect, too beautiful, and to ruin the moment with his clumsy presence would be unforgivable. Anything that hurt her feelings was even worse than that.

Yet he joined her in bed because he knew that if he didn't, he would regret it for the rest of his life. "Pants are overrated anyway."

Rarity's answering laugh broke the tension. He lay down and she pulled the fluffy quilts up around them. "See? That wasn't so hard, Bryn darling. We just need to keep warm through the night and I know just the way."

Before he could blink, a very warm and soft unicorn pressed her body against his. She lay in a spoon position with her back to him. Due to her size, her head rested near his collarbone while her hindquarters settled comfortably alongside his hips, and her back legs reached to his knees. Too comfortably. She was all baby-soft white fur and contented ladylike sighs. The way she moved against him awoke something deep down inside his core, and he fought to control it.

She's a pony. I'm a human.

But this feels so right… and I love her.

No experience could have told him what to do. He wasn't even sure which parts of her were acceptable to touch. Instinctively he put his free left arm around her chest, giving her a gentle squeeze, and Rarity responded instantly. She moaned loudly and arched her back into him. "Oooh Bryn, you certainly waste no time getting down to business. I like that in a stallion." Little did he realize that if Rarity had been human, his hand would have been cupping a breast or, perhaps, resting between them. Apparently it was just as sensitive an area for ponies as well. She rolled over in bed and kissed him.

Afterward, he would be hard pressed to describe exactly what it felt like. He had no kisses with an Earth girl with which to compare it. He could, however, recall the moment just before their lips met, and how his heart pounded as her round equine face moved closer and closer. Her long-lashed eyelids closed. His followed suit. By then he was enveloped in her completely, her scent, the softness of her mane, his hand touching her cheek and her ears. Had he ever kissed a human before, Rarity's kiss would have felt at once awkward and foreign to him. His lips were not a perfect fit to her muzzle. Her tongue was slightly larger than his own.

But what significance did any of that have? None, to Bryn. He existed for that simple moment. The sweet taste of her mouth, like fresh strawberries in summer… their bodies coming together… only these mattered.

Some time passed. They looked at each other hungrily. "Was that your first kiss?" Rarity asked.

Play it cool… But he couldn't lie to her, or spin half-truths, or add to lies he had already hatched. Not telling her about his true age was distasteful enough. "Yeah..."

"You certainly fooled me." They kissed again, this time a quick and chaste peck. Rarity giggled and he felt her whole body vibrate against his; she looked into his eyes and whispered, "Do you want to know a secret? You are the stallion I've waited so long to find."

"And here I thought I was just hired help."

"Since I was a foal, I thought I would grow up to meet a beautiful prince and be his princess, like all the fairy tails say. I'd live in his castle and never want for anything. And of course he would be handsome and strong and have the kind of eyes that make my flanks tingle-"

Now it was Bryn's turn to burst out laughing, and Rarity playfully swatted at him. "Ahem, as I was saying, last year I finally met a real-life prince and he was quite dashing. But also the most inconsiderate horse-faced oaf in all Equestria who expected mares to fall at his feet simply because he was royalty. To him I was only a momentary distraction. Love has to go both ways, you know." She snuggled closer to his chest. "My friends have set me up on a few dates since then and I've met stallions with good hearts. There is always something missing, though. Either they are too slavish in their affections or too selfish. None of them have ever come close to you, Bryn."

There was something in the way she said his name, he thought, that was different. She said it as if she was holding something precious and delicate in her hands. "Rarity…" he said, not quite certain of the words that would come after her name, and realized that he was doing it too.

Rarity's eyes blazed with fierce passion. "My handsome and strong and caring prince? My prince who would go to the ends of the world for me? He's right here."

"Your prince wonders if he can kiss you again."

"Your princess- begs you to kiss her." She ached for him. He leaned in to grant her wish.

---

Above the Everfree Forest

Each beat of her great wings sent a stabbing pain through her chest. A cracked rib, perhaps, but nothing that couldn't wait until later. It was a dull annoying pain that built over time. She might even be able to repair the bone herself, but to do so would require a landing and a complicated transmutation spell, and she had time for neither.

Her chest was not the worst injury, either. The bones in her rear left leg were shattered just above the hoof. The limb hung useless and in excruciating pain; before taking off she had magically bound it to a length of wood and hoped for the best. Its soreness was less noticeable than the one along her ribcage, except when a sudden gust of high-altitude wind would strike her and grind the jagged fragments against each other, and then it was all she could do to keep from screaming in agony. The jetstream winds made this happen far too often. Blood from a deep cut on her forehead had dripped down into her eyes and then flash-frozen from the temperatures that seemed just too cold to be real. Each blink of her eyelids stabbed her with tiny spears.

But Princess Luna could endure cold. Her flight feathers could take much more abuse than a little bit of frost. The armor she wore was padded with insulation, and would keep her warm and well-guarded had it been in good condition, which it wasn't. The battle had relieved her of half the pieces. The chest plate and greaves remained, but were broken beyond repair and painted red with the blood of the wounded Pegasus she carried across her back.

Fluttershy was fading fast, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The Princess's horn glowed as she flew on through the night. She was using an old battlefield healing technique to hold the mare's broken body together and retain what blood remained in her body. It depended on her concentration, and if it failed, Fluttershy would surely die. On my honor as a ruler of Equestria, I will save her life if it is my final act as Princess. Luna soared fast and high, as fast as her tortured wings would propel her. Even her great reserves of magic had limits and she did not want to exceed them, especially after they had been nearly exhausted in the battle with that- horror. She had no other word for it. Holding Fluttershy aloft was also quickly becoming difficult, because the pony was nearly one hundred pounds of dead inert weight on her back. That weight only added to her heavy thoughts.

The Undercity expedition (only an hour ago, but what felt like days) had been a failure: Pinkie Pie was still missing, a factory lay in ruins, and more mysteries abounded than could be counted. Luna made the climb back to ground level with no clues upon which to operate. Whatever evidence that was not destroyed in the blast had conveniently disappeared with the owner of said factory: a griffin, known by the remaining work ponies to be a merciless taskmaster, and doing suspicious experiments. The Lower Canterlot police were investigating further. None of it made an ounce of sense to Luna. Was Pinkie Pie lost in the explosion? Is it somehow connected to that monster in the forest?

To clear her head, she flew back towards the ruins of her and Celestia's old castle- on a gut feeling, perhaps, or just checking on the weather patterns the Cloudsdale Pegasi kept complaining about- and chanced on the clearing where Fluttershy faced death. The Undercity situation was dire; she would discuss it with her royally inept sister later, but it paled in comparison to what she had just seen. What she had just fought, and nearly perished as well.

Nopony would ever know how close to the edge she came, tonight. When Fluttershy was about to be ripped in half and butchered, when her own strength was failing, she had tapped into a darker part of herself. I lay there on the forest floor with my armor shattered and my leg broken… and it had an Element holder in its grasp… what could I do but counter its wickedness with my own?

Even now it feels like my horn is infected. My soul is tainted with the evil I once wielded, and tasted once again tonight.

That beam of dark magic, that ray of destruction that boiled with violet hatred, had struck the monster through its slimy chest and released its grip on Fluttershy. It had given her the time to bind her own leg and scoop up the fallen pony, but only just. Whatever malice protected the creature, her nightmarish magic had only wounded it. Maybe just made it angrier.

The Elements of Harmony had once freed her from the grip of Nightmare Moon. So the common ponies claimed, and the fairy tails parents now told their foals at night… nothing could be further from the truth. Could the stars be freed of their light? Could the very earth be freed of its gravity? Nightmare Moon lay within her skin, as familiar as a lover, and only a few selfish thoughts and a dark incantation away from breaking free. Every night that she woke and raised the moon was another battle with her sinister twin. The worst part? It is so easy. So alluring, to reach for that power and be lost within it forever. It is a drug with no antidote. Tonight I used it only in my greatest need, but what about tomorrow?

As it did when she thought about important matters, her thoughts adopted the vernacular of an age long past. Must I forever host this abhorrent darkness within mine chest? A mere taste of it nearly was mine undoing. I hath done this to save thee, Fluttershy, and if I must, I would choose thus again.

Canterlot's lights shone like the beacons of a lighthouse in the distance. She was almost home. Her own moon hung heavily in the western skies. With renewed energy she sped on, the wintry air screaming beneath her wings. Hath I made this sacrifice for naught? Between the wind and the effort to maintain the spell, there was no way for her to check if Fluttershy was still breathing- or alive at all. Only the royal physician could. It was to her solar that she now directed her flight, as the Equestrian capital grew larger and larger in her eyes. If the old scattermane was asleep, she would blow her door down and force her to accept Fluttershy into her clinic.

The royal physician lived on the second floor of the East Tower. Mine sister's tower. Luckily, most of the guards on duty would be her own Night Guard and would not question her purpose or her appearance too closely. She passed within the city limits and glided high over the Palace's spires, a shadow amongst shadows, unseen by anypony below. Past midnight, only the hardiest were still out on the streets, or those returning tipsy from the Undercity bars.

It wasn't until she made her final spiral down to the Palace gates that she remembered Darkmane. She had left her commander, three hundred pounds of rock-solid and unwaveringly loyal stallion, to stand watch in the throne room after escorting Rainbow Dash to her room for the night.

Rainbow Dash… Confused about the trial and about the Undercity affair and whatever it held in store, the poor pony had agreed to wait until the morning for a meeting of the Sisters as to what should be done. No doubt her night was a sleepless one as well. Luna touched down at the gates and nearly toppled over, Fluttershy's weight threw her off balance, and she was forced to land on three limbs. To their great credit, the two unicorn guards flanking the front gate bowed their heads with a respectful "Your Majesty" without even looking up.

"Your Majesty!" growled Darkmane, when she had entered the foyer with her gore-splattered burden. "You are injured! Let me assist you-"

As stoic as he was, he still recoiled a bit from the grisly sight. He and two other guards were the only ponies present in the room; they opened their mouths in alarm. "Darkmane… Help me carry this pony to the infirmary. She must be saved."

He put Fluttershy on his back and followed her through the throne room. It was a testament to his dedication that he didn't question her, or waste time wondering about her well-being.

The infirmary was at the top of a spiraling flight of stairs and down a corridor to the left. Never had she cursed a staircase before, but her broken leg required her to climb them with a comical hopping motion, and at the top she was light-headed from the pain and growling obscenities at these stairs and all the other stairs ever built by ponykind. The walls swayed sickeningly. "Take her in, Darkmane. See that she gets treated by the royal physician and let nopony else know she is here. I must see my sister at once."

Her sister, at the top of the tower. More stairs. Seven flights of them, to be exact, and the mere thought of them made her leg throb with a dull nauseating pain.

Darkmane disappeared down the dimly lit hallway with Fluttershy draped limply across his broad back. She was in good hooves, and Princess Luna was certain she would survive. She had to. Luna could spare no more worry for the Pegasus, because there were more important matters to be addressed, and they lay in the golden pinnacle of Celestia's tower. She took a deep breath and began the climb, hopping like a hog-tied foal and cursing every second of it.

On the fourth floor, she was almost done for when her shattered leg brushed against one of the stone steps. She could feel the jagged pieces of bone grate against each other, and the scream ripped from her throat before she could stop it. "BUCK!"

Such a curse was unladylike and one more tiny instance of modern ponykind influencing its very archaic ruler. And of course, it had to be in her Royal Canterlot Voice. No doubt Celestia and half the castle had heard that one. Eyes watering and barely able to stand any longer, she continued up to the seventh level, past the kitchens and the armory where two sleepy Royal Guard earth ponies stood. Guarding Celestia's door was a very familiar Pegasus. This Pegasus's presence was the latest in a night full of occurrences that made no sense. Much like the stallions below, he gawked at her bloody armor.

"Flash Sentry," said Luna breathlessly, "stand aside. I must have an audience with your Princess."

For the first time that night, a pony came as close to straight disobedience as possible. Flash actually blushed and shuffled his hooves nervously before bowing. "My deepest apologies, Your Royal Highness, but Princess Celestia was quite insistent that nopony disturb her for any reason."

"Who gave you these orders, and why are you standing here instead of asleep in your bunk? Upon returning from the Undercity, I gave you strict orders to escort Rainbow Dash to a room in the Palace and then to report to your commanding officer, Shining Armor."

Flash bowed lower. He was apparently as confused as she was. "And I carried out those orders to the letter, Your Majesty. Commander Shining Armor was not on duty when I returned to the barracks. He was called back to Manehatten when news reached us that the chaos there was too much for the local police to handle. Bright Blade was in command and he ordered me to personally stand guard at the Princess's chambers, by wish of the Princess herself. Only ten Guard were left in the Palace."

Luna knew the protocols. Except in the event of a major attack, the guard presence was concentrated on the lower floors; in the event of castle breach at the gates or through the windows, any invading forces would be held back by superior numbers. The private royal rooms were supposed to be guarded at the base of the stairs by four ponies, not by one posted at the very door to the bedroom beyond. Flash's presence here was in direct violation of that standard.

"Princess Celestia ordered you here?" exploded Luna, trying to bridle her anger but failing, because a sudden revolting thought came to her. There was only one reason Celestia would insist on absolute privacy… and even thinking of it made her grit her teeth and snarl wordlessly.

"If you value your commission at all, or indeed your very life, you will allow me to pass." The razor-sharp rage in her voice was enough to make Flash practically jump out of her way, and because part of her anger might have been because of the pain, she tried to soften its blow. "You have done your duties well tonight, Flash Sentry." The poor pony was more frightened than before, although he stood straight and didn't show it.

Her left hoof knocked on the golden door, three urgent taps, before she opened it with her magic.

Several things happened at once. There was a feminine gasp from behind the white silken curtains of Celestia's bed, followed by a scuffle and an unfamiliar mare's voice that fearfully whispered, "What's going on?" Then some hushing sounds from her sister. The pony she had come so far to see appeared from the other side of the bed, her usually perfect pastel mane a tangled mess. The room was quite dim but Luna's night-accustomed eyes caught everything.

Celestia saw Luna with one eye swollen shut, battered armor pieces stained with both Fluttershy's and her own blood, and the broken leg held limply above the floor. She uttered a little shriek.

"Dear sister, what happened?! You are covered in blood!" She took a step toward her, although whether it was out of sisterly concern or just plain shock, Luna couldn't say.

Luna, however, watched the bed that Celestia had just vacated. She saw the telltale shift of the blankets. Another pony was sharing the Princess's bed tonight. A young mare, by the sounds of it, and she felt a hideous fury building within her chest like fire. To keep her voice level took all of her willpower.

"And you, dear sister, are covered in the sweat and scent of another mare. Do not presume to think that I am blind to it."

Celestia at least had the sense to look guilty. For a moment, anyway. "My orders to not be disturbed had no effect, it would seem, but- what in the name of Starswirl happened to you? Was there another dragon attack? I parted ways with you in the throne room nearly three hours ago and you seemed in perfect health. Do you need medical help? Tell me everything."

To Luna, it was only verbal babble designed to take her mind off the pony hiding beneath the bedsheets. She ignored it.

"How kind of you to be concerned about me, while you lock yourself in your tower and give in to your perverted desires. How very like my perfect sister. Which pony was at your side tonight? Another in the long line of useless aristocracy who would sell their foals into slavery for an invitation to the Gala?!" The ferocity in Luna's voice would have made a normal pony sink beneath the floor. "Perhaps a night in which one Element holder is mysteriously missing, another lies on death's door, and a monstrous creature is loose in the Everfree Forest is the wrong night to invite another one of your perfumed whores into your chambers."

At the words perfumed whores there came a strangled gasp from the sheets. Celestia stepped defensively in front of the bed. "Who is missing? And why are you hurt? Please, sister, rest yourself and tell me what has happened. I will send for the royal physician."

"Are you truly concerned? Or simply trying to cover up the evidence of your depravity? Tell the truth, Sister."

"I- was not expecting company tonight," said Celestia lamely. The elder alicorn's cheeks turned bright, boiling scarlet.

"At the moment, the royal physician is occupied with saving Fluttershy, who lies at Tartarus's door. I have also led an expedition to the Undercity on a fruitless search for Pinkie Pie, who seems to be missing, and returned to bring you this news. One of many mistakes I have made this evening."

"Pinkie Pie is- missing? And what of Fluttershy?" Celestia exclaimed. The pony in the bed inhaled sharply, which was not missed by Luna.

"As I just explained, she is gravely wounded, by a strange creature of the Everfree Forest I barely escaped with my life. It is upon this matter that I needed your help and counsel, but by what I have interrupted, clearly I should look elsewhere than to a Princess who commits disgusting acts with mares while her empire bleeds. Now you will answer my question: who is concealed in your bed?"

For the first time, Celestia sounded frightened. "That, sister, is not your concern."

But Luna had already acted. The air thrummed with magic, and the gauzy hangings and sheets flew into the air like freed swans. Beneath them lay Twilight Sparkle. Luna's face went from shock to apoplectic fury in seconds.

"You would dare to bed your APPRENTICE?!" Luna screamed, at full volume. The last words shook the room. "AN ELEMENT HOLDER? THE PONY WHO WE ARE SWORN TO PROTECT, NOT CORRUPT!"

Celestia's spell crackled across the space between them. It caught her full in the chest. "Rein in your tongue, Sister! You know nothing of this matter!"

Luna was beyond words. She took the blow, even as it drove the air from her lungs and made the cracked rib sear with blinding pain. Her answering charm was not energy, but magical chains conjured from thin air. It was not a pretty spell. They bound Celestia's horn as well as her wings, nearly crippling her, and still the other alicorn fought against the sharp strangling metal. The Princess of the Night then cast a repulsion hex and her sister crashed hard against the wall.

"Princess!" Twilight wailed, jumping from the bed to her lover's side. She faced Luna with tears streaming down her face. "Please don't hurt her! I love her! What's the matter, Princess Luna- what did she do to make you so angry?" Her voice quavered and broke. "Please-"

"Stay silent, Twilight Sparkle, or I shall bind you too." Every part of Luna's tired, battle-weary body ached like it had never ached before. The effort of maintaining the spell was making her head spin. I must do what I came here to do. "And now both of you will listen to what I have to say."

She looked contemptuously at Celestia, not meaning for the brunt of her anger to fall on the sobbing unicorn at her side, but continuing anyway. "For hundreds of years before my exile, I watched you take both mares and stallions as lovers… whatever pony took your fancy, but always ones with talents useful to you. Starswirl the Bearded, for example. It seems, after I have spent a thousand years on that accursed rock in the middle of the void, your devious ways have not changed. I care not for whom you use to warm your bed at night. I care about Equestria, and its well-being. At a time when this kingdom needs its rulers the most, I arrive tonight to find you oblivious of your duty and further endangering it. And bedding the Element of Magic, imposing your unnatural ways on a pony responsible for the most vital of the Elements- have you lost all sense?!"

Celestia rattled the chains and forced herself upright, to glare at Luna with livid but remorseful eyes. "We have discussed this, Sister."

"Yes, we have discussed it, and you spat at my advice."

"Did you come here to criticize my rule, or to lament your lack of fulfilling love because you are envious of mine?" said Celestia.

Luna stepped forward and brutally backhoofed the helpless alicorn across the face. The blow knocked her head sideways into the stone, and Celestia looked up at her sister with grim satisfaction. "It appears I have touched a nerve."

She raised her hoof to strike even harder, and stopped. Not because Twilight screamed and threw herself over her mentor's body as a shield, but because of the incalculable sadness she saw in Celestia's eyes. It was the sorrow of too many years gone by and perhaps some of the same feelings that Luna now felt: she had no desire to fight with her only sister, any more than Luna herself did. Was this all part of her alter ego taking over?

Deep breaths. Conceal it, do not feel it. To feel it is death.

With difficulty, she restrained herself, and when she spoke again it was in a much softer tone. "Ever I have put Equestria's welfare above my own. I took no lovers and made no secret alliances. You have the gifts of diplomacy, where I possess only the gifts of magic and strength. You waste them on personal gain and politics. There is already bridle gossip among the Guard and the court that their Princess is a- well, a mare who lies with other mares. And the workers in the Undercity had very choice words for Equestria's rulers. They blame us for their hardships, the Princesses who 'sit in high towers and profit on the common ponies' suffering'. Are they wrong? And now you toy with the heart of the pony who, along with her friends, is responsible for defending our kingdom. It is unforgivable."

The blow from Luna's armored foreleg had opened a deep cut in the elder alicorn's muzzle; slow drops of blood fell on her chest, shockingly red, like rose petals on marble. In the interim, Twilight clutched at her lover's breast and sniffled.

"I am sorry that you feel so, Sister. Know that Twilight Sparkle is with me tonight out of love. I would fight the darkest shades of Tartarus for her, and defend her with my life. You have never loved, never known the bliss of another pony's heart beating in time with yours, and I cannot expect you to understand."

Luna sneered. "And I suppose she loves you with the fervent, ill-fated love of a student to her teacher. You should 'educate' her on your past students and all the apprentices you bedded."

"Past students?" whispered Twilight.

"A lovely bedside chat for you both." Luna's head throbbed. The fight had drained whatever strength that was left in her body; remaining standing was a deadly battle. Each breath stabbed at her chest. She looked at Twilight wearily. "It is not a suitable for a Princess of Equestria to do such things, even if our society now accepts them."

"But Equestria doesn't accept them, even after all this time!" Twilight cried. "And they should! What difference does it make as long as two ponies are happy? Don't you want your sister to be happy?"

The remnants of the fire crackled dully. Its light cast Luna's features into sharp, angular relief, and in that moment she appeared carved from ageless stone. "My happiness, or her happiness, is not of importance when Equestria is in danger."

"Free me from these horrid chains," grumbled Celestia. "We can speak without casting spells or insults, can we not?"

Luna dissolved the chains with a flick of her horn. "It remains to be seen."

"What is upsetting you so, Sister?"

"I am upset at your apathy and foolishness, Celestia. Nothing more." Luna turned away and faced the window. "I am sorry I struck you."

"If I recall, you did far worse to me as Nightmare Moon. There must be something else that troubles you."

Luna looked long and hard at Twilight before speaking. This is my secret to keep, she thought. Not even another thousand years could wrench it from me. Twilight Sparkle, do you recall the Nightmare Night when you taught me to fit in to an Equestria that had long since passed me by? Nopony ever gave me a greater gift. And when you did… a part of my heart longed for yours. I envied my sister's luck in having such a kind, caring and diligent apprentice, one who held friendship in the highest regard and gave a fallen Princess the chance to redeem herself. I wanted to know what that felt like. I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to ask you, at Princess Cadance's wedding, but the words would not come.

Seeing Twilight in her sister's bed was like a knife being driven through her ribs. The worst part was her utter failure now, as then, to be able to put this feeling into words. It wasn't betrayal, because neither Twilight nor Celestia had willfully hurt her, and it went far beyond simple jealousy. It was nothing to do with sexual lust, either. It was a crushing and hopeless emotional longing for somepony kind enough to see past her walls to the vulnerable mare within. When Celestia greeted her, heavy with the sleepy scents of her lover's body, Luna needed a more nuanced word than jealousy for the bitter resentment in her heart. Once again, her sister was favored, in luck and adoration and now love as well. This was the way it had always been and always would be. It made Luna want to curse that regal smile right off of her regal face. But that would hurt Twilight…

Tonight was not the time to bare her heart. Certainly not to the present audience. "If you do not understand by now, you never will." How pointless are emotions, if they leave us weak? Her traitor voice began to crack. Celestia wisely changed the subject.

"We can talk about this in the morning… you look unwell. Perhaps we should go to the infirmary and check on Fluttershy."

"Yes…" Unfortunately, 'yes' was the last word that Luna could manage. She took a step toward Celestia. Her weight landed on her rear right leg, the leg she had put out of her mind during the disagreement. It happened quickly: the pain, the dizzy shimmering wave of shock, the floor rushing up to meet her.

---

The two ponies lay in adjacent hospital beds, separated by a white curtain. The room's walls and floor were whitewashed stone of a similar style as the rest of the castle. This contrasted with the modern brass sconces and the examination table, stacked with medical instruments and test tubes. Twelve of the fourteen beds lay empty. Fluttershy was closest to the wall and barely recognizable as a pony. The physician had wrapped her in so many protective bandages and casts that she resembled a cotton ball with legs and a tail; her tail was the only uncovered part of her, save for her muzzle. Straps held her legs elevated and secured them to the bed.

"This Pegasus will be fine, I think. Those puncture wounds are sewed up and I've got her under a Healing Spell and heavy sedation."

The royal physician, Red Star, straightened the sheets. She was an older unicorn with streaks of matronly gray in her lime-green mane. She turned to the room's other unconscious occupant. "I was more worried about Her Majesty. I'm not sure how she was even able to walk and speak, let alone fly or fight, with that broken leg and the two ribs almost puncturing her right lung. In twenty years of serving the Palace, I've never seen a break this bad. The entire lower half of the leg was shattered. She won't be walking for a while but she will be just fine with a little rest."

"Sister… I am so sorry…" said Celestia. "I should have been more understanding."

"What are we going to do?" said Twilight. She looked desperately around the room. "And she couldn't find Pinkie Pie either-" and she let out a fresh howl, more tears staining her lavender cheeks. "What's happening, Princess?"

"I am not sure, Twilight. She spoke of a monster in the Everfree Forest. We will have to wait for her to recover before we can learn exactly what she saw and what she meant to tell me." As Twilight sobbed, Celestia extended her wing and tried to pull Twilight into a comforting embrace, but the smaller pony stepped back.

"And what did she mean about 'past lovers'?" Twilight's voice was raw, like she had swallowed metal. "Were there other ponies before me?"

She already knew the answer. Of course there were… she's eighteen hundred years old. That's the lifetime of twenty-five normal ponies, or more. She couldn't have lived so long without falling in love with somepony. Maybe even apprentices like me. And then they would grow old and die and she would stay the same.

The lovers before me, did she tell them the same things that she told me? That they were special and beautiful and the only one for her?

With difficulty, she choked out the words. "What happened to her? Your last apprentice."

"She was much like you, Twilight. Brilliant and enthusiastic and eager to prove herself. Unfortunately we did not see eye to eye on many matters, magic most of all, but love as well. It… did not end well. Six years ago she disappeared from the Palace and I have not heard or seen her since."

The memory troubled Celestia. Twilight could see that much by the moisture that built up around her eyes.

"Her name was Sunset Shimmer."

Rate and review :) new chapter on the way soon.

October 12
Ponyville

A small crowd had gathered in the Ponyville town square late the next morning. No events had been formally announced, and there was certainly nothing about the town hall or its surroundings that suggested a special occasion. No streamers or ribbons hung from the lamps or the frames of houses. The only sound, apart from the impatient snorts of the assembled ponies, was the scraping chorus of shovels. All along the town's main streets were business owners and residents with snow shovels clamped in their teeth, tossing the heavy powder into more manageable piles and growling their frustration. Everypony dressed in their thickest winter clothing. It was mid-morning and although many of the shops were open, most ponies stayed indoors to wait out the weather.

During the night, over seven inches of snow had fallen; it was enough to cripple wagon traffic through town, and its mysterious appearance was the topic of much debate among the residents of Ponyville as they ventured out on a bone-chilling Friday morning to do their daily business. It boggled the minds of many because no two ponies could remember there being any storm clouds about. The snow was simply there as if an evil spell had deposited it. The residents resolutely shoveled it into the street where it would eventually be cleared by the town's laborers and loaded into stallion-drawn carts.

Two such ponies walked by the clock tower while talking about this very subject.

"And it was so cold last night, the bird feeders cracked and broke!" Bon Bon and her companion, Lyra Heartstrings, stepped around the mounds of freshly shoveled snow in the street. Bon Bon carried a loaf of bread in her basket. "If we weren't low on food, I'd sit inside all day by the fire."

"Me too… do you remember a winter ever being this cold?" Lyra asked.

"Not since I was six," said Bon Bon, "but that was only because something happened with Winter Wrap Up that year and winter lasted several weeks longer than it should have. Something about the Pegasi mixing up the clouds."

"I miss my bed," the excitable aquamarine mare replied. She did a silly sort of dance to keep warm, even though she wore two coats, leggings and a knitted wool cap over her wild bluish-green mane. A hole was cut in it so that her horn could be fitted through the hat and still be functional. "What else's on your list? I'm freezing."

"I just need… apples and oats. And clover if the grocer has any. Maybe we could stop at Sugarcube Corner afterward."

Lyra giggled. She knew her roommate's love of sweets- after all, her cutie mark was three drops of candy. Bon Bon loved to make all sorts of confections and sell them from her and Lyra's upstairs flat on the west side of town. Their apartment always smelled of comforting lemon and caramel. And on a day like today, Sugarcube Corner would be heaven. They both lived for candy and sweet treats of all kinds, and could pig out on Pinkie Pie's delicious cakes and keep their hooves cozy for a while by the fire- at least until they had to return home.

"I wonder what's going on over there?" said Bon Bon, pointing at the town hall where about thirty ponies, a mix of mares and stallions, loitered.

The duo did not have to wonder about it very long. The town hall's doors opened and from within walked Mayor Mare, flanked by two of her bookish assistants. These ponies set up a podium at the edge of the stage and Ponyville's mayor stood behind it looking, in Bon Bon's eyes, quite tired and flustered and not her usual energetic self. "Not sure," Lyra said. "Come on, let's find out!"

Mayor Mare began her speech just as they reached the town square. "Good morning," said the stout gray-maned pony. "I'd like to thank everypony for coming. I am aware this is on very short notice, so let me get down to business." She held a stack of notecards in front of her; with a practiced hoof she straightened them and pushed one to the bottom of the pile.

"Now… the first order of business, this weather. I have assurance from the weather department that our recent cold snap is nothing to be afraid of. However, I would like to warn everypony to stay indoors whenever possible and while outside, to dress warmly and stay in groups. Parents, keep your young ones safe. Two fillies were nearly lost in the storm two days ago. If we use our heads, this winter will be no problem to us. Are we going to be foalish and freeze to death, or will we all be there to wrap up winter in just a few short months?"

There were a few halfhearted "neighs" from the crowd. The Mayor, who loved to make speeches and excite her town into appropriate action, was unfazed by the lukewarm response. "No! Ponyville has survived winters like this before, and this is no different! Which brings me to my next point…"

With one hoof, she pushed back the wavy gray mane that showed no traces of the original light fuchsia of her younger years. "The Nightmare Night celebration is in two weeks and, in the event of bad weather, will be held here inside Town Hall. We are currently looking for volunteers to help with preparing food and attractions. If anypony is interested, they may apply in my office."

Lyra stood close to her friend for warmth and began to shiver in a violent, teeth-clattering way, and when she finally spoke, it was over the third subject that the Mayor was addressing. Bon Bon caught the words "missing" and "storm" but Lyra's voice was in her ear, so she consequently missed the rest.

"Bon, I'm coldddddd!" said Lyra petulantly, like a spoiled filly. "Can we finish shopping and go to Pinkie's place to get warm?"

"Okay," said the other mare, rolling her eyes. She adored Lyra and her goofy, impulsive nature. It was why they worked so well as roommates and close friends. Bon Bon balanced out her craziness and in turn, she was there to cheer up the Earth pony on her gloomy days. "Let's go see if Big Macintosh made it in from the ranch."

The marketplace was a short walk from Town Hall. Lyra jumped over heaps of snow and often slipped on them, clutching her friend for support. More than a few playful shoves and snowballs were exchanged on the way. They arrived covered in icy white powder and laughing their heads off.

"I could just eat an apple whole," Lyra exclaimed. "And a lovely alfalfa burger with some tea to warm me up."

Lyra's saddlebags had plenty of room for the week's groceries and she could just see those juicy apples, begging to be eaten. It was a surprise for both of them when they rounded the corner into the marketplace and the familiar wooden farm wagon, pulled into town by Big Mac and loaded with fresh apple products, was nowhere to be seen. In fact, only two stands were open, at an hour when all of the store owners would usually be in business. The courtyard was nearly empty of shoppers.

"But- he's always here on Fridays, and Thursdays too." The unicorn seemed to be at a complete loss as to what to do next. "What are we going to do?"

"It's okay, Lyra. We'll just come back later in the day and see if he's here. We can still pick up some oats and clover. Look, Mr. Harvest is open." With a helping hoof, Bon Bon led her across the marketplace to the produce stand and selected a twenty-pound sack of oats and assorted other foodstuffs.

"No tomatoes today," said the Earth pony. He was sturdily built, with a day's worth of stubble on his jaw, and looked the same as always- stern and sensible, but with friendly twinkling eyes for the customers he knew well. "My supplier's in Dodge Junction an' lately the wagons aren't making the trip. No idea why. Sorry, ladies."

They assured him that tomatoes weren't needed. He did have some very tempting oranges, though, brought in last week from a farm south of Los Pegasus. Lyra handed over thirteen bits for the bill. The only other open stall was the one selling soap and other cleaning products and, not needing anything of the sort, the pair retraced their steps across town, past the library crowned with a stately coat of snow, to the candy store Lyra loved so much. Unlike the apple stand, it was open, but Bon Bon noticed that something was amiss before she even pulled open the door. A hoofwritten sign was affixed to the door frame.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PONY?

Pinkamena Diane Pie

Last seen on October 10th, in Sugarcube Corner

Any information should be brought to Sweet Apple Acres Ranch or to the attention of Mayor Mare, Town Hall #1, Ponyville

It featured a crude sketch of Pinkie Pie, done in black ink, but still recognizably Pinkie. Nopony else had a mane like that. Lyra, caught in the middle of reaching for the door, saw the poster and gasped. She turned to Bon Bon with a horrified expression.

"Where do you think she is?"

Bon Bon put her foreleg around Lyra's trembling shoulders. "I don't know… this is awful, how could Pinkie Pie go missing like that? Maybe her friends are already out there looking for her. Maybe that's what the Mayor was talking about too."

The atmosphere inside Sugarcube Corner was, if anything, worse than the poster suggested. Mrs. Cake stood behind the counter and handed over two cupcakes to a burly stallion who paid and promptly left. Only two other ponies were present. Like Lyra and Bon Bon, they looked as if they were just staying there to keep warm. Could the presence of a single pony make so much of a difference? Without Pinkie Pie's loud and exuberant personality to fill up the building and make it feel like home, the bakery became a shadow of its former self. The quiet atmosphere felt wrong.

"Hello, dears," said Mrs. Cake brightly, but the tremor in her voice showed her artificial cheeriness for what it was. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

Lyra forgot all about the cupcakes when she reached the counter. To Bon Bon, anything that made her friend forget about food was cause for serious alarm. She, too, was concerned about the news of Pinkie missing. In Ponyville, where every resident knew each other and looked out for every colt and filly, such news was quite a shock. "Do you know what happened to Pinkie Pie?" Lyra asked, tremulously. "We saw the poster outside."

"I'm sorry, I don't know." The proprietor stifled a sob. "She was here, two days ago, and then the next morning she- wasn't. The shop was exactly how we left it. No note, no warning."

A rack of freshly baked Chocolate Raspberry Explosions was set on the countertop. Despite herself, Lyra reached for them, and regardless of whether the morning's customers knew about the disappearance of the cupcakes' creator, the baked treats themselves were in high demand. Over half of the tray was empty.

"We'll let some friends know and keep an eye out for her," said Bon Bon gently. She waved away the cupcake Lyra offered; somehow, she had lost her appetite. What she wanted was a blanket and a cup of tea and a friend to cuddle. Two of these wishes would only be granted back at their apartment. They found a table near the hearth, where a fire crackled rhythmically, and Mrs. Cake brought mugs of mint tea with sugar and milk.

"Did you hear anything at work yesterday about Pinkie Pie?" the tan mare wondered. The tea was already working wonders.

"I only worked half a day," said Lyra. She bit into the deceptively smooth frosting. Lyra was a musician for hire- she played her lyre and sang for parties and special occasions, sometimes as far away as Vanhoover- but to help pay bills, she was a part-time worker at the Ponyville train station. Lifting packages was easy; she had her unicorn magic, and the bustling atmosphere put her at the center of regional news and gossip. She loved interacting with the travelers moving in and out of Ponyville. "Most of the trains were after my shift. I work tomorrow though."

"Just wondering. It doesn't seem real that she's missing." Bon Bon looked around at the comforting décor of Sugarcube Corner. For years they had visited the little shop, sometimes many times per week, and it was like losing a part of her heart to walk inside and not see the bubblegum-colored Earth pony behind the counter. She was pulled from this tragic line of thought by Lyra. Lyra's cupcake, to be exact.

True to its name, the confection foamed and splattered chocolate frosting across Lyra's muzzle and chin. Some of it sank to the table with a wet plop. "Want a bite?" said the unicorn thickly. She wore a beard and moustache of sugar. "It's only a cupcake. It won't hurt you."

It was hard for Bon Bon to stay depressed when she was looking at her friend, eyes crossed and tongue stuck out, and covered in chocolate. There was something about the hilarity of a cupcake that assaulted its purchaser with icing that made it seem like Pinkie was still hanging around the shop, spreading her infectious happiness wherever she went. Through a simple baked treat, Pinkie Pie had made Lyra happy, and Lyra's delight infected Bon Bon like a virus. It would be an insult to the skilled creator of this cupcake not to laugh. And laugh she did. "Looks delicious..."

"Then come on over here and lick it off." Lyra winked.

"Hmm, you know what happens when you tempt me like that…" The Earth pony left the thought unsaid and sipped at her tea, watching Lyra scarf down the rest of the pastry and get the sticky chocolate all over her chest. A knowing glance passed between them. For a fleeting moment, there was a hungry look in the unicorn's golden eyes. Her messy mane, with its dashing white streak, fell across her forehead. Bon Bon reached out to wipe a fleck of frosting from her roommate's cheek and- very slowly, as if waiting for a reaction from Lyra- ate it.

Then they laughed together, and it was forgotten.

We're much better when we're just best friends, thought Bon Bon. No matter what happened that night a year ago…

They raised their mugs and enjoyed a quiet moment with each other, as they had done so many times before, and cerulean eyes stared into amber ones.

---

Been super busy lately and finished this cute little breather chapter before the story moves into its final stages. Thanks to everypony reading, reviewing, or just glancing at this story for a few seconds. It means a lot.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: BREAKFAST AT CELESTIA'S

Canterlot

The Palace, East Tower

There was a headache brewing somewhere behind Celestia's left temple. It didn't hurt, exactly, but she could feel the precursors that signaled the onset of a rotten one.

The pain spiked when she blinked or turned her head too fast. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. This meant that she blinked more often than she normally would. Each blink was an ant's sting, a tiny raindrop of agony in a sea of torments, and her eyelids twitched uncontrollably. Her body felt leeched of all its energy. Duty, and only duty, kept her body upright in the elaborately carved chaise, and moving was out of the question.

If shifting her head to one side felt like a serving fork was being stabbed between her eyebrows, Celestia didn't want to stand up again. It had been hard enough making her way down from her chambers to the dining hall.

It was not a migraine. Celestia knew those, and this had none of the signs. It felt like a stronger version of the usual aches that built up from a day of wearing a heavy golden crown and listening to hours of court testimonials. This is the fourth one of the week, she thought, taking a measured sip of her tea. It is nothing more than stress.

Outside, her sun shone heavily in the wintry eastern sky, veiled by a bank of gray clouds that enveloped the Palace like malignant thistledown. Two hours ago, she had raised it. An hour before that, she had lowered her sister's moon to make way for its larger and hotter cousin. The unusual magical exertion of the morning left her horn feeling curiously empty, as if the slender white spike on her forehead was made of cardboard and not sturdy bone, and the usual restrained storm of alicorn magic burning within her chest was powerless. She hadn't shouldered the responsibility of both heavenly bodies in over two years, but it should have been easy, because she had been the steward of sun and moon for a thousand years during Luna's exile.

Today, for whatever reason, it was not easy. Perhaps the ruler of Equestria truly is losing her touch. Or perhaps she is nothing without her better half to rule by her side.

Princess Luna lay in the Palace medical ward, swathed in miles of bandages and under heavy sedation. The physician had left a note with Celestia's guards and it was delivered into her hooves by a very exhausted Flash Sentry when she arrived downstairs. Your Highness, it read, Her Highness Princess Luna is already making a rapid recovery. Her alicorn strength saved her from the worst of it, but I thought it best to keep her sedated for at least another day or two to ensure that she does not tear her stitches. The wounds inflicted were quite serious. Fluttershy's injuries were even more so. She will likewise be sedated for a week or more and I will personally administer my most potent healing spells.

Hours after the fight and its fallout, a very rumpled Princess stood on her balcony, braving the cold in nothing more than her silken gown. She cast the ancient magics in quick succession. One complex spell to guide the moon on its earthward descent, and another to bring light and warmth to Equestria. One alicorn, two stars.

A standard Equestrian year had three hundred and eleven days. Celestia raised and lowered the sun every single day. Mathematically, she had performed the demanding incantation over five hundred thousand times in her lifetime. She knew its words, its hoof and horn positions, deeper than by heart. This morning, however, was different.

"A fragmented mind will only produce disaster." Her foalhood teacher had imprinted these words on the young alicorn's mind. They held true for leadership as well as spellcasting. How, then, could the results of Celestia's fragmented mind produce anything else? When she coaxed the sun on its path into the heavens, it followed a haphazard course, rising at the wrong time and disrupting the routines of ponies across the land; the moon only dipped beneath the horizon after a full hour of magical outpouring, which was forty minutes more than normal. The silvery orb was no doubt used to her sister's more dexterous touch. Celestia doubted that this was the reason for the spell's difficulty, though. The moon felt wrong. It felt like a pair of shoes made three sizes too large, or like an obstinate animal.

Her mind was full of Twilight Sparkle. And Sunset Shimmer. And her sister, who might have knocked at Tartarus's door if not for the ministrations of the physician. Celestia had done nothing to help Luna when she needed it most. Perhaps the moon could sense this.

And Twilight… Stars, what have I done?

She rubbed absently at her forehead with a gilded hoof and took another sip of her tea, which was steadily cooling. Thrice the servants had brought her a fresh pot. On most mornings she would be ready to face her day after just two or three cups. Her breakfast- cinnamon brioche with roasted apples, light pancakes of the finest oats and strawberries, mint cakes, and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, which were only a few items among many other luxurious treats fit only for royalty- lay largely untouched on their silver trays.

Untouched, at least, by Celestia. Try as she might, she couldn't work up much of an appetite. The other pony at the table was under no such restrictions. He reached for another pancake with a hurriedly muttered word of apology. "They are simply divine," he said, being careful to speak before filling his mouth. "You should try them, your Majesty."

"I am a bit under the weather, to be honest."

Having already eaten it, he devoured another. And an apple tart. And two mintcakes. He chewed energetically and washed it down with the lukewarm tea.

Despite herself, Celestia allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up into a half-smile. "I will be sure to pass along your compliments to my cook."

"Well… you know what they say about the appetites of Pegasi."

"That they are endless?" Celestia gently lifted the teapot with her magic and poured herself a fresh cup, as well as a cup for her guest. Even that small bit of spellwork felt more difficult than usual. He noticed her pained expression.

"Are you unwell, Princess?" he said thickly, around a mouthful of pumpkin cinnamon roll.

"A difficult night, but I assure you I am perfectly healthy- healthy enough to listen to whatever unsavory news with which you ruin my meal. It is, shall I say, what you do best."

"And now you're just being rude, Your Highness," the stallion answered, but with a twinkle in his eyes that meant he was only kidding. He stretched his black wings as if he owned the room and finally, after several minutes of noisy eating, set down his knife and fork. "As always, your generosity and good graces are never wasted."

"What do you have to report?"

"Hmm… where to start. Such an interesting week," he said, with a knowing smile. His eyes, wide and attentive, surveyed Celestia. Not for the first time did the Princess feel as if she was standing under a spotlight. His gaze had that effect on her, as if he could read her thoughts and feelings with just one look.

He was, thought Celestia, a very unusual pony, starting with his name. 'Nebula Streak' had the ring of a pseudonym. She had known several ponies in his line of work that operated under assumed names or nicknames or even single letters such as 'L' or 'Q'. His lifestyle required a specific type of individual: a chameleon, adept at infiltrating and blending in wherever he needed to. Names could be cast aside as easily as old clothes. Even appearance could be altered with the right cosmetics. But in the seven years of their association, he had remained Nebula Streak, as if he was trying just a little too hard to be an ordinary Cloudsdale Pegasus.

Then again, it does suit him. Maybe he is Nebula Streak just for me. A rather dashing name for such a pony.

He was between youth and early middle age. Celestia thought he couldn't have seen more than thirty-five years, but age seemed to not apply when he was concerned. There was an easygoing vigor within him that never waned. A stallion with his coloring, especially a Pegasus, was exceptionally rare. His slight body was as black as spilled ink on a moonless night. His mane was every bit as dark, with a narrow band of fiery orange passing from right to left. He wore it in the style currently popular with young Canterlot businessmares, cut at shoulder length and severely layered with the long bangs trimmed straight, and somehow was able to pull it off despite being a stallion. There was no other coloring anywhere else on him besides his eyes. And what eyes they were. A hypnotizing greenish-blue, like seawater illuminated by candlelight, with the fierce fire of intelligence behind them. They were almost too large for his face.

As if his look was not arresting enough, his wit was devastating. Celestia felt sorry for anypony foolish enough to duel him with words.

Nebula set the teacup down. "Certain sources are absolutely buzzing about a midnight disagreement between two of Equestria's rulers. My little birds tell me that you and Princess Luna did not see eye-to-eye on a personal matter and that our Princess of the Night is in critical condition, from unknown causes."

His little birds. It was his pet name for the anonymous sources of information, all across Equestria, which supplied him with the freshest scandal. Celestia had long since given up on figuring out exactly how he kept track of so many 'birds' and how the news passed so quickly to him. Disturbingly, this meant that somepony in the Palace was an informer. Which of her guards- or Luna's guards- had overheard them bellowing at each other in their Royal Canterlot Voices?

Had they heard everything?

Was the news of Celestia's romantic preferences currently circulating through the streets? Worse yet, if Luna's condition was known to others outside the Palace, was she being blamed for her sister's wounds? The thought chilled her to her core. Her head ached terribly.

I must not give him the satisfaction of provoking me. Besides, whatever juicy scandal he had gathered for his presentation was probably kept a secret for her ears alone, and not public knowledge yet. That was the unspoken contract between them. Every two weeks, Nebula paid a visit and brought her a special service, a service that none of her Guards or the standard Canterlot news channels could provide. As ruler of Equestria, she needed to know Equestria. She needed to know everything within its borders. She traveled within certain circles as a Princess and a diplomat. Those same circles in which she demonstrated her power put her at a disadvantage when it came to the other circles of society; places like the Undercity, or the Manehatten slums, or even the Equestrian frontier of South Amareica, where the throne's power was not as prevalent, were inaccessible to her. That was where Nebula and his little birds came in. Through him, she learned the news from darkest corners of her empire, when and where it happened. She then passed these nuggets of information to Luna and together, they could make decisions far more effectively.

For seven years they had been meeting like this, sharing secrets with each sip of tea. Nebula's easy familiarity with her was sometimes very irritating. However, he knew to show the proper respect when appropriate, he had never once misled her or fed her false leads, and all his information cost her was some food and an hour of her time.

Still, she couldn't be too cautious.

She regarded him with her best imperious royal stare. "You are well-informed," said Celestia. "Almost too much so. But I do not pay you to tell me that which I already know, I pay you to keep me informed of the events in my empire that pass unnoticed. So what other news do you bring?"

"Flatterer." Nebula's voice was a sensuous rumble that seemed out of proportion to such a slender, willowy pony. "And yes, my darling, that is only the first thing I have to report. Yesterday, the Cloudsdale weather department advertised for a new head manager. It appears that the last one was ejected over mishandling of thunderheads and a labor dispute that broke out at the Rainbow Factory. All of Cloudsdale is up in arms at the moment. Dreadful affair, that accident in the Cirrus District. That filly, burned to a crisp by a stray lightning strike last week. Such a tragedy." Celestia could hear the manufactured sympathy in his voice.

"A disaster strikes and ponies naturally choose the easiest scapegoat," said Celestia. "All my sister and I can do is offer aid whenever we can. I believe Luna has already offered reparations."

"These… power struggles, they're natural to Pegasi and always will be. We're all descended from warriors, you know, way before Equestria was Equestria. It's taught to all Pegasus fillies. Something happens to stir up that warrior spirit and there's no stopping it until somepony is beaten to death. On the subject of Cloudsdale…" He shuffled a small stack of notes. "Some in the Pegasi leadership are worried. It seems that winter is here, much sooner than the weatherponies predicted. Its severity is remarkable. You can feel it in the wind, yes? Perhaps the Palace and all of Canterlot's finery is more of a buffer than the exposed buildings of the Pegasi, but it is rumored that these recent storms are of-" he paused for greater emphasis- "unknown origin. Perhaps magical origin."

"Magical origin? Surely you are not suggesting-"

"My dear Celestia, I only report to you what my informants in the Weather Office give me. The words 'possible magical origin' were discussed. Suffice it to say that the Pegasi are not controlling this recent weather. The lightning storms… the snowfall… it points to something unnatural. October has never shown these patterns, in recent memory, and Vanhoover and many more northern settlements are already suffering under subzero temperatures. There are some who say that strange things are stirring in the Crystal Mountains, too."

The alicorn opened her mouth to elaborate on her point, but he interrupted. "No need to get alarmed. Just something to file away in that wonderful mind of yours."

Magical origin? What magic can affect Equestrian weather, besides the natural efforts of Pegasi? Nothing comes to mind. I shall research it later. With a sigh, she reached for more tea and let Nebula continue.

"On to the next, but before I do, I would ask you: what do you know of griffons?"

The change of subject took Celestia by surprise. "What I know of griffons would fill one or two very expansive texts. I know, because I have written one. Griffons strictly forbid foreigners coming to their lands and since I am the only Equestrian ambassador, I know more than any living or nonliving pony about their ways. Long ago, three hundred years after Starswirl the Bearded's lifetime, they invaded Equestria and killed tens of thousands before we stopped them. Ancient history to you."

"Ah. Then you know how they think. For example, take this steel factory in Lower Canterlot, Level Nine. It's been operating f or several years, making machined parts and structural steel for bridges and high-rises, and in a sector known by many to be dangerous. A profitable business, even when considering the dangers. Those towers in Manehatten don't hold themselves up by magic." He laughed at his own witticism.

"But what does this have to do with griffons?"

"I'm getting to that. This factory… it was built in a sector of the Undercity best known for dive bars and crime. The usual mess that happens when far too many ponies are crammed in an underground cave and given no hope and no future: mares of loose morals, alcohol, the worst Baltimare gangs. A dead pony or other unfortunate is found in the dock district almost weekly. Now couple that with the rapid growth of industry in those areas. Whether you admit it or not, Equestria is changing. It is not the same place as it was fifty years ago. Ten years from now, it won't be the same as it is now."

"You know, Nebula, sometimes I think you visit me just to hear yourself speak."

He tipped her an enormous wink. "You see through me so easily! How do you do it?"

"The factory. The griffons." Celestia massaged her forehead irritably, and not meaning to be too harsh on him, she said, "As much as I love to hear you speak, I have engagements later this morning."

"Anyway. If you were a newly growing industrial firm, making, say, airship parts or building frames, where would you put your factory? You would put it where labor is cheap. Plunk it in the bottom of Lower Canterlot and suddenly you have hundreds of ready-made worker ponies. Below Level Six… the farther down you go, the worse things are. It's a haven for homeless, and migrants, and criminals, and more than a few displaced zebras. The perfect labor force to exploit. When they are worked to the end of their short lives, there are always more to replace them."

The Pegasus chomped into another cinnamon roll. "Now suppose you are a griffon, a griffon with no love of ponykind who wishes to gain wealth and power through the suffering of ponies. Equestria is rich in minerals and metals as well as unskilled labor. Such a griffon might see owning a factory in the Undercity as the perfect way to accomplish both."

"Did a griffon cause the accident?" spluttered Celestia, choking on her tea in a very unladylike way. "Was this sabotage?"

"Here's where it gets juicy, your Highness. A griffon owned that factory. I gathered this much from my inside pony on the police force. This griffon was, in a manner of speaking, making steel for industrial use, but as a smokescreen for something else entirely."

Celestia couldn't make heads or tails of what he was trying to tell her. It was as if Nebula had cut words from an encyclopedia, thrown them in a blender, and assembled them at random into sentences. It all made her headache worse.

"The factory had over six hundred workers, and as far as I could tell, none of them knew anything about what was truly happening. The griffon seemed to be experimenting with dark magic and some sort of metal alchemy. Gold, maybe, or special alloys. Regardless, the evidence was destroyed in the explosion and the fire, and the griffon or his closest conspirators were nowhere to be found when the police arrived on the scene. The police don't know who or what caused the explosion, either. It's a mess down there. Three generators self-destructed and the main boiler damaged most of a city block. Dozens of ponies killed. Half the sector's burning from the blast and the riots. You take six hundred homeless ponies and make them jobless as well, and it's a full-blown uprising before long."

"More tea," Celestia called to one of the servants against the wall. She suddenly felt very tired. This was happening right under her feet. Thousands of feet below the opulence she enjoyed, ponies were dying. Ponies she, as ruler, was responsible to protect. It was a heartbreaking thought.

Seeing the Princess's exasperated and hopeless face, Nebula Streak reached across the table and gave her hoof the tiniest of touches. It was just enough to make Celestia raise her head in shock. For any common pony to touch royalty, without invitation, was a serious offense, and Nebula knew this. He did it anyway.

"You aren't well," he said, his voice calm but insistent. "Should I call for help-"

"I am all right," Celestia murmured. She smiled wryly. "And thank you for your concern, improper or not. I have- I am afraid I have made a bit of a mistake. Princess Luna was, I think, trying to tell me this last night and it got lost in our disagreement. Tell me, was there another griffon present by any chance?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"I only ask because as you probably know, griffons are very territorial, easily offended and unpredictable. They are as foreign to us as a timberwolf. A single word might provoke a griffon and his entire pride to violence, and they have their own bloody ways of settling grievances. This could be nothing more than a rival griffon taking revenge on a competitor, or it could be something else entirely, something more sinister. I beg you to bring any new information to me as soon as you know it." She rose from the table and began slowly pacing back and forth, talking to herself rather than Nebula. "It makes no sense… the crime rates are down in the Undercity, why now…"

Celestia turned to face him. Rather sheepishly, he set down the half-eaten slice of raspberry cheesecake that he had been raising to his mouth. "If you were me, Nebula, what would you do?"

"If I were you, I would withdraw from the Undercity. Let the violence simmer down. Do nothing to upset the griffons until we know more."

"Relations are tense right now. No doubt you know of King G'vril, who took the throne in the Griffon Kingdom four years ago. I suspect he murdered the last King to do it. The Carrion Throne, it is called. Recently he sent envoys with peace offerings but did not visit Equestria himself. I know virtually nothing of him or his plans for his people, except that he is a harsh ruler. What I want to know… what I want you to help me discover… is how the griffons intend to move forward, and how Equestria fits into their plans. It is not as if I can simply ask their King if his citizens are exploiting mine. But if he is hiding an evil plot, he will regret it, and I will make him regret it."

Now there is the Celestia that I haven't seen for a while. As long as we have her, Equestria will survive. "I'm afraid I won't be of much help, your Majesty, especially since I have no sources within their Kingdom. Yet. But I will do everything I can. I am afraid that there is no more significant news to report, unless you count a casino brawl in Los Pegasus. Drunken buffalo, et cetera."

The alicorn's face was once more the face of the implacable leader. "You have given me much to consider, Nebula. I am afraid our time is up but I will eagerly await your next visit. If you hear anything, inform me."

The Pegasus stood and bowed gracefully. "On one condition. Bring more of that delectable brioche." He winked.

Celestia, lost in thoughts of griffons and mysterious weather and everything else rattling around in her overworked brain, still managed a smile. Nebula would never change. Right now, something unchanging was a welcome thing. Everything else was a maelstrom of chaos. I have to find Twilight and repair what I have done.

And then... Equestria must rise to meet its challenges. I must rise to meet its challenges.

Canterlot

Royal Infirmary

Earlier that day…

"You don't have to stay here all day, dear."

Rainbow jumped at the sound. The room had been quiet for several minutes; within these thick stone walls, all outside sound was deadened. Candles flickered silently. They gave the only light and sunrise was still more than an hour away.

It was the Royal Physician that broke that quiet. Nopony else was present save Rainbow Dash herself and, of course, Fluttershy, laying motionless in the hospital bed closest to the window. A draft of icy air crept through the cracks around the single pane of glass. The kindly old pony looked up from her work to give her a maternal but comforting smile, then returned to straightening her instruments.

They filled entire drawers: forceps, lances, needles and many other finely worked silver instruments, all razor-sharp and unpleasantly utilitarian. Among this arsenal, the doctor arranged two freshly sterilized scalpels and slid the tray into its proper place. She looked from Rainbow Dash to the room's other immobilized occupant and back. "I daresay your friend is not going to be, ahem, going anywhere soon."

She said it with every possible kindness and without any hints of humor. Still, in this case, Rainbow Dash hated her honesty.

Her nametag read Scarlet Hope, Royal Physician. Rainbow Dash thought she could do with handing out a little more hope and a few less dry remarks. The unicorn took several tentative steps toward Rainbow, as if trying to decide whether placing a comforting hoof on the Pegasus's shoulder was a prudent thing to do. In the end she let the hoof fall to the floor and resumed fussing over her medical inventory, which she had spent the past two hours fussing over. Rainbow was glad she did. In her volatile mental state, coming anywhere near her was an invitation for broken bones.

"Are you sure you can't do anything more for her?" she implored, her voice gravelly from tiredness and barely contained anguish.

"I am afraid there isn't much else we can do for Miss Fluttershy here, except let her rest."

"You should have done more!" Rainbow Dash's hoof came down onto the bedside table with a loud bang. "She's- she's just laying here, and at first you weren't even sure that she would make it through the night, so why wouldn't I bucking stay here all day with her? I'm not leaving her! Not until I know she's okay."

"As I have explained to you for the past hour, Fluttershy is lucky to be alive. Injuries of this severity should have killed her instantly. No doubt they would have, if Her Majesty was not there to spellbind her wounds closed and fly her here to me with all speed. She is still in what I would consider critical condition."

She settled her frame into a sensible wooden chair opposite Rainbow Dash. Scarlet was elderly, but her body was that of a solidly built unicorn still robust from a lifetime of physical activity and precise work. With piercing gray eyes, she surveyed Rainbow Dash from behind round wire-framed spectacles like a schoolteacher; for the first time, there was more than just soothing courtesy in her voice. "Shall I describe to you, for the fifth time, the steps I took to ensure her proper treatment and subsequent successful healing?"

"You- did some fancy magic and stitches and now she's strung up like a turkey on Hearth's Warming Eve, and-"

"Your friend will recover. You have my word on that." The Palace physician's steely stare did not falter. "As to exactly when she can walk again, that will be some weeks. Whatever gave her these injuries, Her Highness didn't say, but whatever it was, it nearly tore her ribcage in half and broke the rest. Two legs crushed, right shoulder bone in seven pieces, and severe head trauma as well. The skull was the worst of it. Head wounds bleed the most, you know, and I was worried about potential brain damage around the fracture, but this Pegasus has a thick skull. Of course, we won't know for sure until she's conscious."

Rainbow Dash lay her head heavily on the bed where Fluttershy lay. "I'm sorry, Fluttershy…"

"For all their impatience and other shortcomings, Pegasi are tough. She'll stay in that cast for at least three weeks with daily healing spells and be up and about in no time."

She's only telling me this to calm me down, but it's making it worse.

Rainbow hated hospitals. It was a deep-rooted loathing that went back to some of her earliest memories, and she could write books on all the reasons why she hated them, but merely the smell was enough to set her feathers on edge and a cold sweat on her brow. Antiseptic was strong in her nostrils and her stomach twisted nervously. Scarlet walked over to Fluttershy's bedside with something small and metallic suspended in front of her. With horror, Rainbow Dash realized that it was a needle, a fat glass syringe half-full of some jjglittering potion. She levitated it closer and closer to Fluttershy.

Rainbow Dash didn't notice herself walking backward. Her hindquarters struck the cold stone because she had shied away from that needle, as far away as the room's dimensions would allow.

I broke my wing in a flying accident when I was six. In the hospital, they wanted to give me a shot of something to keep away infection. There I was, strapped down and helpless to move while the nurse jabbed that awful thing into me. And then the painkillers, in another needle. They held my hooves down so I couldn't get away. It took three ponies to pin me to the bed. She shuddered. A wave of nausea struck her as the loathsome thing stabbed beneath Fluttershy's skin. She sat back down, her knees shaking.

Now Fluttershy was the helpless one. Scarlet Hope was quick and steady with the syringe, injecting the drug and then applying a bandage while Rainbow Dash was still cringing away from the needle's presence. "What's that you're sticking her with?"

"A simple revitalizing potion, to help her body replace lost blood," said Scarlet patiently.

It was hard for Rainbow to even look at Fluttershy now. Four sturdy straps secured Fluttershy's legs to the elevated bed frame and were bolted down so that the broken bones and tender stitches would not shift. Save for a bit of pink mane visible on the pillow, the tips of her hooves were the only uncovered part of Fluttershy. Everything else lay under plaster casts and miles of bandages. There was more bandages and gauze than pony. She was a dandelion seed, an inflated white balloon with strings to keep her from flying away on the first breeze. Powerful drugs kept her unconscious. Even so, Rainbow murmured comforting things to her friend, just in case she was listening.

Having injected Fluttershy with the serum, Scarlet stepped back and began to cast a spell. Rainbow Dash interrupted her before her horn could do more than emit a few red sparks. "What are you doing now?"

"A Healing spell," said Scarlet, with a touch of irritation at being interrupted again. "The magic currently knitting her wounds back together exacts a heavy toll. As I am sure you know, healing magic is not simply spun out of thin air to cure its target. All magic- even Conjuration and Destruction- requires both a power source and a real, material object on which to work. For example, if I were to light a torch, I supply the energy and the torch is a medium for that energy." She demonstrated; her horn glowed softly red and one of the unlit wall sconces burst into flame.

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to furiously tell her to get to the point. Scarlet continued in the same breath. "Healing magic is a form of Alteration, but one unique even among its many strange forms of spellwork. Its 'power' comes from the body of the pony being healed. Our bodies naturally heal from injuries and sicknesses. When a pony is Healed, the subject's body restores itself more rapidly, but at the cost of physical vigor. Severely injured ponies often find themselves emaciated and quite weak after spending an extended amount of time under healing spells, although in cases such as this, the benefits far outweigh any side effects."

"But- Fluttershy's weak already!" exploded Rainbow Dash. "Are you telling me that your spell's sucking MORE energy out of her?" She kicked the chair as if it bore the doctor's face.

Scarlet hesitated, no doubt sizing up the enraged mare and phrasing her reply so as not to put her any more on edge. "Just try to think of the magic as a catalyst to help your friend get well faster." She gestured to a tube that fed into the comatose pony's mouth. "As long as she receives plenty of fluids and nutrients, the magic will not drain her too harshly, although she will wake with a ravenous hunger and eat voraciously for the first week or so while her body replaces that which was lost."

Lots of big words, thought Rainbow. I just want Fluttershy to be all right, and this time, I won't let her get hurt ever again. Friends watch out for each other. They keep each other safe. Fluttershy needed me, and when I wasn't there, something out there tried to kill her.

She touched the ball of tightly wrapped fluff that was Fluttershy. The doctor's words echoed in her head: two legs crushed, right shoulder bone in seven pieces, and severe head trauma as well… Those words hurt her like she was the one to suffer the injuries. What had done this to Fluttershy? The sweetest, most innocent, kindest-hearted pony she knew?

As if reading her thoughts, Scarlet spoke up. "Merely idle curiosity… Do you have any idea what might have harmed her?"

Rainbow turned to face her. "If I did, I would be out there right now, tearing the spine out of whatever bucking vermin raised a hoof to her. He'll stay alive long enough to feel his head being smashed like a pumpkin. And when I know…" She slammed her forehooves together, hard enough to make the doctor take a step back. There was, however, no change in Scarlet's voice. She was used to dealing with visitors who lost their temper.

"Two Guards stay outside this door at all times. Nothing will get in this room to touch her, and certainly not with Princess Celestia just downstairs in the throne room."

But a moment later, all Rainbow Dash felt was hot burning shame. She hadn't been trying to scare Scarlet, and if Fluttershy had been awake to hear her outburst, she would have probably told her that violence wouldn't solve anything. Well now you don't have to worry, Fluttershy. I'm here. I'm not going to do anything but stay by your side and protect you.

"She should be lucky to have a friend as loyal as you," said Scarlet.

Rainbow sniffed. It was safer to keep her eyes closed, because if she opened them, the tears might leak out.

From beyond the doorway came a sudden commotion. After the long hours of silence, Rainbow Dash jumped and jerked her head toward the door. She caught the words "urgent" and "the Princess", and it was a mare's voice. The deep baritone of the guard answered her. None of the reply was audible, but the answer must not have pleased the mare, because Princess Celestia's name was mentioned in heated tones. There were noises suspiciously like hooves being stomped on a marble floor. Two seconds later the door opened, and Twilight Sparkle stepped through it.

"Rainbow Dash!" she cried. "I've been looking everywhere for you, I was afraid you had gone back to Ponyville, or-"

"Where else would I be?" said Rainbow, in a hollow voice.

Twilight's mane was a tangled and flyaway mess and she wore a ratty bathrobe around her shoulders. At a happier moment, Rainbow Dash wouldn't have hesitated to call her deranged. Her eyes bore a feverish light as if she had stayed up all night leafing through books, and as proof, she wore a saddlebag bulging with the books' telltale sharp corners. There had to be thirty pounds' worth of reading material in there. She spoke in an exhausted huff. "I should have known where you'd be… have you been here all night?"

"Since around two, Twi'. It was late when we got back to the Palace, so I was playing cards with the guards in the foyer and waiting for you when I saw somepony being carried to the hospital wing. I followed, and…"

Why now? Why do these damn tears have to come when everypony's watching me?

Twilight, thankfully, chose that juncture to embrace Rainbow Dash, whose voice cracked and broke. The Rainbow Dash she knew would have muttered about 'mushy stuff' and pushed her way out of the hug. This Rainbow Dash shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly closed, and as Twilight held her, a single sob escaped her chest. Just one. The rest were held inside. "Oh, Rainbow, it's okay," Twilight murmured into her mane. "Fluttershy will be just fine."

"Everypony keeps telling me that!" Rainbow Dash snarled. With sudden fury she shoved Twilight away. "I wish they'd just- STOP! She's my best friend, I've known her since I was four and how the hell do I know that something won't happen to her and she'll never wake up again?"

Now there was no stopping the hot, disgraceful drops leaking from her eyes. All the fight went out of her. Both Twilight and Scarlet had seen her cry; there was nothing else they could do to her now, nothing they could take away. Nopony ever saw Rainbow Dash cry. Even as a filly, when her parents divorced and she cried for her lost mother, she ran into the darkest closet of her Cloudsdale home where her bawling would never be overheard- not by her father, or her friends, or even Fluttershy, who spent more time with Rainbow Dash than with her own family. Crying's for fillies and stupid colts and uncool, overly emotional losers and- I can't I can't I can't I can't I CAN'T-

When Twilight wrapped her in comforting hooves, she didn't resist.

"Oh, Rainbow…"

The sobs didn't stop until Twilight's chest was damp from her tears and her entire body trembled. She cried until she physically could cry no more, until her eyes were leached dry. Still Twilight held on.

"I'll just leave you be," said Scarlet, going through a door opposite the hospital beds. She felt like an intruder on an uncomfortably intimate moment. "Take all the time you need."

"I'm sorry," said Twilight. "For everything."

After what felt like hours of crying, Rainbow Dash looked up at her through puffy and reddened eyes. Twilight took a moment to gather her thoughts. "I… last night was crazy, and everything happened so fast. The last time I saw you, was before you went to the trial and when I went to find Princess Celestia. What happened?"

"Do you mean the trip to the Undercity? That trip?" Rainbow said, her voice unsteady.

"Princess Luna mentioned it, but I didn't-" Twilight paused in the middle of her sentence, looking like an important thought had just smacked her across the face. "I wasn't sure what it all meant. I didn't know you were with her."

That was a lie. She had heard the whole story in Celestia's chambers, when she was hiding under the sheets from Luna's wrath. She probably knew about Fluttershy's condition before Rainbow Dash had heard about it. But how could she explain to Rainbow exactly why she had been so long with the Princess? She wasn't quite ready for her relationship with Celestia to be public knowledge. If there is still a relationship.

Since visiting Fluttershy and Luna in the hospital, which was only a few short hours ago, Twilight hadn't seen or heard from her lover. She reminded herself that it wasn't even sunrise yet.

The problem was that Twilight didn't know where things stood between them. Not knowing… that was the worst, worse than a thousand arguments or twice as many nights alone. All the books she had read on love told her what to do in a hundred situations, but without knowing exactly which situation it was, she was left guessing. Her gut told her to wait and let boiling emotions cool. With difficulty, she shook herself and brought her mind back to the here and now: the reason why she had gone looking for Rainbow Dash, besides the obvious one of caring about her friend. Rainbow angrily wiped her eyes and went to stand next to Fluttershy.

"It just sort of happened. All I know is that we went down there… to the Undercity. Princess Luna, and me, and a few guards. Somehow she thought we would find Pinkie. It was horrible, Twilight. No light, and all the rock, and cold, and damp, and some factory that had exploded, and a bunch of ponies attacking the police. It turned into a riot. For all I know she was trampled or caught up in all the fighting. What would Pinkie Pie have even been doing down there, anyway?"

Something clicked in Twilight's head. "I remember she had a relative working in the Undercity, on Level Four. A cousin or a grand-nephew or something like that. If Pinkie was visiting him, maybe that's why. Not even Dark magic could stop her from caring about her friends and family."

"Weird time to go off and visit family."

Twilight couldn't argue with that. She went to Fluttershy's side and touched the exposed tip of her hoof as Rainbow had done.

Rainbow Dash put her head on her hooves. "I just want Fluttershy to get better. I want Pinkie Pie to come home. That's all. I'm tired of all of this bad news."

"I know," Twilight said sadly. "And quite a few other things, too. Did Princess Luna say anything else?"

"When we were back at the Palace, she sent the guards back to their duties and told me to wait in the throne room. She seemed really upset. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember was Luna coming back through the throne room and Fluttershy on her back, covered in- blood."

For the first time, Twilight noticed the empty row of beds on the far side of the room. Empty beds. Freshly made and straightened beds. The previous occupant of one of those beds, a certain alicorn, was missing.

"Oh no…"

"What?" asked Rainbow Dash.

"Princess Luna was here. When I came down to visit Fluttershy, she was here, in this bed. She had broken her leg." Somewhere out there was a still injured, and probably a very angry, Princess. "Why would she leave?"

She said the last bit to herself. After last night, she was more than a little afraid of Luna, and of what Luna might say or do if in a room alone with her. There it is again. This feeling of not knowing anything. All the worry was making her chest constrict and her forehead throb.

Remembering why she was there in the first place, she rummaged in her saddlebag and pulled out an old book. "For days I've been trying to figure it all out. What with the weather, and Bryn showing up in Ponyville, and Zecora disappearing, and Pinkie Pie, and now what happened to Fluttershy. Something isn't right. I'd know if Discord was behind it, or changelings, or anything we've faced before. Whatever is behind all of this, it has Dark magic at its command. None of my books in Ponyville could tell me anything, so I went to-"

"-the library?" interrupted Rainbow Dash.

"Very funny." Even as depressed as she was, Rainbow managed a laugh. Twilight shook her head and continued. "I was up all night looking, and I found this."

She held up the weathered and ratty volume in her hooves. Squinting, Rainbow Dash read its title: Faerie Tayles. "An old fillies' book?" she burst out. "That thing looks like somepony left out in the rain and then ran over it with a wagon."

The book was very old and weathered. Its cover had once been engraved wood, and vibrantly painted. Now only very faint traces were left of the inks; time and the effects of hundreds of hooves had worn the carvings nearly smooth. At some point in time the cover had fallen off and been hastily glued back together, with unfortunate results. It fell off at Twilight's touch. Blushing, she bent to pick it up. Letting the thing fall all over the floor was an insult to the book, especially since its importance had nothing to do with the cover.

"Not just any fillies' book." Twilight leafed through the first few pages and pointed at one at random. "Look at that!"

"Um, Twilight? I can read Daring Do, but that isn't even Equestrian. None of the letters make sense."

"That's because this book is extremely old. From before the Schism, actually. It's at least twelve hundred years old, and it's been in the library this whole time, right under my muzzle."

Eyes glowing with enthusiasm, Twilight gently flipped through the thick book, until she found a page near its middle. She sounded like her old self again. The fatigue fell from her voice and she looked like a filly presented with a very large cookie. "Do you remember last Hearth's Warming Eve? We did a play for the Canterlot nobles about the founding of Equestria."

"Oh yeah. The Rainbow Dash show. I played that Pegasus with the awesome armor."

Leave it to Rainbow Dash to remember her ego and the silver armor, and nothing else. "But do you remember about how Equestria came to be? The three pony tribes that were running from the Windigoes? Well, listen to this."

And Twilight Sparkle began to read.

She read something that Rainbow Dash could not make heads or tails of, and yet there was something tantalizingly familiar about it. The words were in another language. Or maybe the words themselves were in the language she knew, and Twilight was pronouncing them differently. Rainbow couldn't really describe it in her mind, but it sounded like- music. If she closed her eyes and just listened to Twilight's voice, it was like rhythmic chanting.

"Withom in herber greyne, libbeth an yong damysel and her pre chyldern. Her feythful Housebonde did purvaye her sustenaunce and hyle. One daye she did hie to louely Canterlot to bigge vitayll and goode Clopes, bycause Wynter hath soudein befalle upon all the Lede. It was loplich Calde. Her chyldern endured in worlde stronge but Foode was scarslych founded…."

It began to make Rainbow sleepy. She was able to make out maybe one word in four, and just when she thought she could understand a sentence, it slipped through her understanding. For many minutes Twilight read. She caught the words for 'winter' and 'stallion', though.

"So what does it say?" she finally said, interrupting the sonorous flow of words from the other mare.

"It's about a mare and her foals, and how she couldn't keep them warm during a really cold winter, so she went to Canterlot to buy them food and clothes. On the way back, she came across something." Twilight switched back to the antiquated language which, as Rainbow now knew, was called Middle Equestrian. "On the lysty Rake a nyghtes did she sparede he neyper tos ne heles. Her Byrthen was vnrid and Sadde. No Caple did here her Herrowe. And so a Wyndigo did appere ar the Leuedi, grymme and Gryndel in Seymland. Vilte Wyndigo did assaylle her with starkast Nygromansye."

"So… she took a rake and hit a Windigo with it?"

Twilight grinned. "She met a Windigo on the way home, silly. It could outrun her as well as freeze her to death with its dark magic. The only way she could overcome it was to think of her husband and his love, and the love she had for her foals, because love is toxic to all Dark creatures. I think this was sort of a ghost story. A mother might read it to her foals and fillies as a good healthy scare, and a reminder of love's power."

"How'd you learn to read that stuff?" Rainbow asked, picking up the book and squinting at the strange words within. "Let me guess, in the library."

"Princess Celestia taught me, when I was eleven. Lots of older spellbooks are written in Middle Equestrian. A unicorn has to learn it if he or she wants to study old magic, magic from Starswirl's time." There. She could say Celestia's name and not feel ashamed, or blush, or shuffle her hooves. It was progress.

Rainbow Dash turned back to Fluttershy's bed. "I still don't get what any of that has to do with us, right now. You think that some weird story is the answer-"

"No, don't you see?" exclaimed Twilight. "It was right there, in that Hearth's Warming Eve play! The Windigoes create cold. I've read about them before. They're undead ponies who let their hatred corrupt both mind and body. Nopony knows where they came from, but they're what nearly destroyed the original three pony nations thousands of years ago. In the play, we were representing the leaders of those three nations. Earth ponies, Unicorns, and Pegasi." She shut the book and began pacing up and down in a wide-eyed fervor. "There's so many unanswered questions, though… why have they returned? What brought them back? Are they the ones that attacked Fluttershy and, maybe, Pinkie Pie? I need to do more research! And what about Bryn? Does he have anything to do with it, and would Princess Celestia know?"

"Then just ask her."

"Last night was- there just wasn't a good time to bring it up." Don't blush, Twilight Sparkle. "I have this book and a few others that might prove my theory, but I'd want all of us to be there. Bryn, too, in case we have to use the Elements." When Rainbow Dash was silent, Twilight moved closer. "Look… something evil's out there, maybe a Windigo, maybe worse, but we know it's real now. It hurt Fluttershy. It might have gotten Pinkie. If it exists, we have to face it together."

"So what do we do now? Go home and gather everypony and just hope that nothing happens to Fluttershy while we're gone?"

"Or I could send a letter to Applejack and Rarity. Either way, it's the only thing we can do." Twilight's eyes shone. She may have been wearing nothing but a dressing gown and old slippers, but she wore them like a princess's robe and waved her hoof around in commanding fashion. "Friendship defeated the Windigoes long ago and it can defeat them again."

Twilight was clearly ready for action. Before she could nudge Rainbow toward the door, the Pegasus said, "Twilight… Could you maybe… you know, keep what happened between us? With the whole crying thing."

"You mean that you don't want anypony to know how much you care?" said Twilight. "That there's a soft heart beneath all that awesomeness?"

"Yeah."

"Fluttershy knows it. Your best friends know it." She gave Rainbow a quick hug. "But if anypony asks, I'll tell them you're heartless and death-defying and invincible." The pair smacked hooves together, lavender against cerulean.

Credit given to J.R.R. Tolkien's "A Middle English Vocabulary" for helping me piece together the very terribly done snippets of Middle English in this chapter.

Ponyville

October 31

Three ponies sat at a long wooden table in the wee hours of the morning. They scarfed down their breakfasts by candlelight. Two oil lamps, both of simple glass and metal construction, sat on the table's opposing ends and burned brightly, but it was the stove that contributed the room's flickering ambience. It made the space seem much darker and more primal than it actually was, as if they were in a narrow cave instead of their own cozy kitchen and their campfire only revealed one or two of the walls. Parts of th e main floor of the house, such as the sitting room and the stairs, lay buried in blackness where the light could not reach. The furniture threw monstrous twisted shadows.

Applejack jumped when a piece of kindling in the stove shifted in its iron bed. The room was not particularly quiet; ponies chewed and clinked silverware against plates and the house had its own vocabulary of creaks as it occasionally shifted on its foundation. The family at the table talked, too, but the gaps between conversations made even small sounds seem loud. It was the extreme silence of a farmhouse six miles from the nearest civilization, in the dead of winter, and not too many hours after midnight. Like heavy cotton, it pressed against her eardrums. She found herself making noises in order to fill those gaps.

The log distracted Applejack from the empty plate in front of her. Ten minutes ago, it had held eggs and oatmeal and apple fritters and toast, the staples of a filling breakfast, but now it was bare, as were the serving trays in the center of the table. Only five pieces of cornbread sat on the centermost one where previously there had been two pans' worth.

Applebloom's quick hoof darted in and snagged one. Her cheeks colored, as if she was ashamed of being caught at it, when clearly she could be seen by everypony at the table. "It's okay, little sis," said Applejack. "We ain't gonna run short of corn anytime soon. Can't say the same about the apples..."

As soon as she said it, two more pieces disappeared from the plate in a similar fashion. "Big Mac?"

"Yup," said her older brother thickly, through a mouthful of crumbs. Bits of chewed bread sprayed the table. Applejack stifled a laugh.

"You're worse than Applebloom. At least she's got the decency ta keep her mouth closed." While she addressed the guilty stallion, Applebloom snatched another piece.

"It's awful cold," Applebloom said, despite her chair at the dining room table being closest to the stove. Applejack had placed her there for that reason. She wore an orange knitted hat that clashed horribly with her cherry-red mane, and although she was the only Apple family member still in her flannel sleepwear and slippers, the drafts sneaking in along the cracks and at the windows affected her small body the most. Applejack herself shivered every now and then. The stove was locked in mortal combat with the cold, and if the supply of wood was not kept constant, it would lose.

"Then get closer ta the stove. Are ya done with breakfast?"

Big Mac and Applebloom both got a hoof on the very last piece of cornbread. It broke and showered golden crumbs everywhere. The section in Big Mac's hooves was much larger, because of its owner's faster reflexes, but he let her have his share and nuzzled her forehead.

"Ah'll take that as a yes," said Applejack, shaking her head. "You two…" She gathered up the dishes and swept the table with her braided tail. With a sigh, she went across the cozy living room to where an elderly pony sat in her rocking chair, staring into the distance. The sole oil lamp in the room threw the Apple matriarch's wrinkles into deeper contrast.

She could have been staring at the floral wallpaper, or the plaster, or the logs and mortar and insulation beneath them. There was no way to tell. Granny Smith's vacant eyes saw everything and nothing. Applejack, standing in front of her, had the uneasy hunch that her grandmother did not see her at all, but instead looked right through her. Most attempts to get her into conversation or even to move her from that spot, once she was settled, were fruitless.

"Granny, ya gotta eat somethin'. Ya haven't moved since sunup."

Sunup, in this case, was misleading. The Apple family rose well before sunup. Cows and pigs and chickens needed to be fed and milked and attended to, and their needs did not change just because the sun rose later in the winter months than the summer, or because the weather made such chores unpleasant. Everypony contributed. Nopony ate breakfast before the livestock, and even Applebloom put a coat and boots on over her pajamas and went out in the pitch-black morning to see to the chickens. It seemed only fitting that Applebloom, the smallest of the Apples, was responsible for the smallest animals.

On this particular morning the Apples had finished their chores quickly and returned to the farmhouse. It was too cold to even loiter in the hastily constructed and expanded lean-to, and the cows were grateful for the wool blankets Applejack threw over them each night, but they still suffered. Their milk was thin. The two calves- nearly yearlings, and growing by leaps and bounds- drank most of the milk as well as the grass provided for them, which left little for Applejack and the rest of the family to drink. In the frigid air, Applejack had milked the small herd and given the hungry heifers plenty of hay. She didn't spend much time inspecting the attached barn and its surroundings like she usually did.

For one thing, it was still too dark to see ten feet in front of her muzzle. The edge of the main barn, torn to shreds by storms more than two weeks ago, was too far into the shadows. But the main thing that had made her jump to finish the chores, more than usual, was the air. Applejack had been getting up before daybreak for her entire life. She was used to early mornings and loved the way that the air, blowing across her farm and through the apple trees, felt fresh and vibrant. This wasn't the same. It was too deadened for her taste. Clouds blocked the stars and setting moon, but the air was desiccated, like a nearby desert had wrung it dry of water. The breezes were sporadic and came in spastic howling bursts.

The last big storm took out the barn an' two months' worth of hay and apples along with it. Ah don't wanna see what another one might do.

She presented Granny Smith with a cup of hot chocolate. "At least drink somethin' hot, or let me get ya another blanket."

But Granny Smith ignored the mug and Applejack along with it. She clutched at her quilt, almost like she was afraid Applejack might steal it away, and muttered to herself in a thin, reedy voice. "Coming back. Rides the shadows." This was all that Applejack could make out amid her sighs and twitches and faint whispering.

For days she had been like this: mumbling, staring glassily at the walls, and acting nothing like her usual unflappable self. The small bits of her monologue that could be discerned were all chilling. Darkness, shadows, eyes, boneless creatures, monsters. Things that lurked at night. Things better left in nightmares and ghost stories. And in addition to all these was always some sort of premonition that something was coming.

Applebloom, to her credit, always went above the call of duty to help her grandmother. The problem was that the help she needed, if it existed, was beyond the filly's abilities. It was beyond Applejack as well. Nothing seemed to break her trances unless she wanted to break them herself, and lately she spent more time in a daze than conscious. Applejack sighed and set the hot chocolate beside the rocking chair. Maybe she'll drink it when Ah'm not lookin'.

"Applebloom, will ya help me clean up?"

The filly reluctantly left the halo of warmth surrounding the stove, but she was more or less eager to help her big sister once she had. Applejack leaned down and put her hoof on the other's shoulder, meeting her at eye level. "Try not ta worry about Granny too much. Ah don't know what's wrong with her, or who could help."

"But sis, Ah am worried!" Applebloom exclaimed. "She's my granny and she's been sufferin' for weeks!"

She expressed in words an entire book's worth of Applejack's worries. If her memory served her right, Granny Smith had been perfectly fine until the night before the camping trip with Twilight and Pinkie. After that… she worsened. "Lost her giddy-up," as Granny herself might say. That day marked the beginning of a horrible run of bad luck.

Applebloom huffed as she washed the dishes. Big Mac, finished with stoking the fire, went to the window and stared out at the front porch, posts coated with frost, and at the shrouded landscape beyond.

"What are we gonna do today?" Applebloom asked. She transferred dishes into the drying rack with her teeth.

"Ah reckon we should finish clearin' up around the barn so there's room for the new one when we put it up." In an undertone she added, "If we can put it up."

Big Mac added a somber "eeyup". It was not his most enthusiastic one-word answer. No doubt he was thinking about the impossibility of the task before them: an entire ruined barn, jagged pieces of lath and beams and framing, and two able-bodied ponies (Applebloom counted as maybe one half) to haul away the wreckage.

With a bitter laugh, Applejack thought about how it didn't matter much either way. The barn was the largest structure on the farm and was always the biggest target for freak accidents. Whether it was storms, runaway wagons, or Rainbow Dash, they could scarcely go two years without the blasted thing going down. Ya'd think we would know how to make a stronger barn by now.

Most of the fall apple crop and the hay had been inside when the windstorm eviscerated it. The hay was saved, but the apples spilled on the ground and many were pulped by falling debris. That was why she looked sadly at the empty plate of apple fritters, during breakfast. Those apples meant more than just lost profits for the farm. They were the family's sustenance. Nearly half of them were destroyed. At least the seed corn and wheat and grass, which were grown primarily for the animals to eat, had been spared; a small blessing amidst a larger curse. True, they were surviving just fine so far, but if the winter continued like this…

Another four months of deep-freeze and apple fritters would be only a memory, a long-lost luxury; never mind about having a large surplus for apple cider in the fall. We've always pulled through though, and we always will.

"If y'all are done eatin', let's get a move on. Applebloom, are your chores done and your room cleaned up?"

"Well… about that, ya see, Scootaloo was over yesterday, an'-"

"Ah see. Maybe ya should think about doin' it before we head out." The filly raced up the stairs to her room.

Applejack went to the coat closet opposite the end table, where a number of heavy canvas coats hung on hooks. She shrugged into the same insulated one she had worn out to milk the cows. A set of sturdy rubber boots completed the outfit.

Today was finally clear enough to start work on the barn. The past six days had vacillated between whiteout conditions and windstorms that removed all the deposited snow with the force of a sandblaster. This meant long days indoors, and Applejack got cabin fever after just one day of it. There was no shortage of outdoor work to do, either.

"Ready, Big Mac?" she said. "Might as well get 'er done."

But Big Mac remained by the window. Dead silence reigned in the house, now that no breakfast noises or talk was around to punctuate it. The fire whispered and sparked. Outside, she could hear the dull thumps of something close to the house. Probably chunks of snow sliding off the roof. Ah hope.

"Big Mac?"

"Eeyup," he responded in a quavery voice not at all like him.

"Are ya comin'?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he raised his hoof and pointed. Applejack went to the other window and after she had scraped away the ice and condensation on her side of the glass, she easily figured out what had him so transfixed. "What could've done that-" he choked out.

For a pony of few words, the fact that something had shocked him into using several at once was alarming to Applejack. Of course, when she had her eyes focused on the east field beyond the yard, she understood. It had the opposite effect on her. All speech failed to express what she was seeing.

The sun was still thirty minutes away. The gloomy pre-dawn light threw everything into murky shades of gray and black: her apple trees, dormant and encased in ice like melted glass, and a path of pure destruction through them. There was the wrecked barn, and the magnificent apple tree beside it now lay in shreds on the snow.

"How?" she spluttered. The cold bit deep into her bones; she ignored it. "When- when did this happen?"

Now that her brother was out of the house and in close proximity to the carnage, he too was speechless.

"It's Bloomfield," Applejack managed to say. "The oldest tree on the farm."

She had to struggle to hold back the wetness in her eyes. Its wide canopy of branches was devoid of leaves, long since dead and stripped by storms. But the tree had stood on the Apple farm for over one hundred years. No matter that it produced only a few apples per year; it was a piece of history. No storm or freak tornado, stampeding buffalo, or falling barn had even bent its stout trunk. Granny Smith's pa- Applejack's great-grandpa- planted it here with his own hooves. Bloomberg, the prize tree of Appleloosa, was a descendant of this tree. Now, its trunk was bisected, not cleanly, but in an explosive way, as if bitten violently in half by a gargantuan beast. Its stately crown lay smashed on the ground and stiff with frost.

"What could've done this?" Applejack asked, brushing Bloomfield's trunk. "A storm strong enough ta blow it down would've taken the house with it."

"The other trees…" As if Bloomfield was not enough, something had done similar damage in a jagged line from the barn all the way to the eastern ridge at the border of the farm, right across the orchard. Tree after tree was rent to splinters, flung pell-mell into the branches of others, and trampled to the ground. It was enough to make any farmer sit down and cry, if they were the crying type. Applejack wasn't. She blew right past sorrow to roiling anger. Like a tainted blanket, it enveloped her until her whole frame shook with fury.

"Somethin' came through an' hurt our trees. Defenseless trees that never hurt nopony." She growled the sentence out through a clenched jaw, and she clenched it so hard she thought it might crack. Her hooves stabbed the snow. "We'll have a bone to pick with it if it comes back. A buckin' big one."

"Eeyup," said Big Mac tonelessly. He walked to the orchard's edge. Either he was much better at hiding his emotions than Applejack, or he was slipping into denial.

Over eighty mature trees destroyed. It would make a dent in next year's production, and replacement saplings would take years to grow back. She felt those fallen trees' injuries just as deeply as if the monster- or loose Hydra, or whatever in Celestia's name it happened to be- had torn her apart instead. These trees were part of the family. If not by name, she at least knew many of them individually by sight, and either she or her brother had shepherded each one to its full growth.

What had torn them down? In such a systematic path, like somepony had snowplowed them? Suddenly the chill eating at her overcoat had nothing to do with the wind.

"Well," Applejack said finally, "Ah suppose we should start with the barn. Before somethin' else bad happens."

Above the rolling hills of Ponyville and the rugged land beyond, the sun peeked over the horizon. It only highlighted the devastation.

Big Mac appeared at her side. He had slipped into the tool shed and donned his work harness, with its stout oaken collar, to help him haul heavy loads.

Two weeks had passed since the barn blew down and not much progress had been made on its cleanup. Applejack tried her hardest to focus on the task at hand and not on her poor trees, or what came after the old barn was removed. Somehow a new one had to be constructed. With only two ponies, it was quite impossible. Barn-raisings were affairs for sunny days and ample ponies around to help. The framing alone needed five or six strong stallions; family reunions were the perfect opportunity to find the required number. But now? The Apple family was far-flung from the Ukrein to Maregentina, and all of them probably busy with supporting their own families and keeping their foals and fillies warm through the winter. It wasn't fair to expect them to abandon their farms just to support hers, especially at a time like this.

No, she thought, if this thing's gettin' done it'll be by our own hooves. She could see the beginning, and the end. Only that pesky middle part of the plan was absent. Maybe Ah could ask Twilight an' Rainbow Dash an'-

She smacked her forehead. In her haste, she had almost thought of Rarity.

Twilight an' Rainbow, then. Ah bet the four of us could get somethin' temporary up to last us through the winter. It wasn't a question of convenience, but of necessity. The expanded lean-to, where the cows and pigs and chickens were crowded together, was both too small and too poorly insulated. They had lost two pigs already. It left the animals stressed, and the remaining provisions and next year's seeds were either stuffed in between the animals or stacked in the house.

Applejack hadn't heard from either of her friends since that day after Pinkie disappeared. Maybe, after all the work was done, she would go visit Twilight. She breathed deeply and started on the barn. Big Mac pulled the wagon up alongside the work area, with which he could cart the broken pieces to the trash heap. The wind gusted; she pulled her hat down and got to work.

She began with what was left of the front door frame. The two bottom posts still stood anchored to the ground, like fingers pointing skyward. Big Mac put his broad shoulder to the nearest one and began to push it loose.

"Applejack! Big Macintosh!"

A girlish voice called their names. Whirling, Applejack turned to the road and noticed two figures just starting down the path to Sweet Apple Acres.

They looked like ghosts, or snowponies given the gift of movement, trudging with steady determination. Then she blinked and it was only two ponies. One was wrapped in a white down jacket and matching accessories that blended seamlessly into the winter landscape around her. A white muzzle poked out from beneath a fur-lined hood. But what about the other one? Somehow he (or she) was much taller than the first pony, like a pony walking two-legged. And that strange robe, flowing around its ankles like a dress.

Of course they would come. As if the day hadn't gone downhill already, here were two more reasons that this day was the worst in recent memory. Rarity and Bryn.

Her mood darkened further at the sight of him, if that was indeed possible. She hated that unnatural hind-legs manner of walking, and the way he moved with limber grace, like a stalking panther. The human. With his hood covering his shoulder-length black mane, he looked mysterious, deadly even, and without realizing it, Applejack lowered into a fighting posture. She wanted nothing from either of them.

Bryn moved easily through the snow. Rarity's shorter legs broke through the hard crust into the powder beneath, and each time she faltered, he was there to steady her.

Applejack tasted acid on her tongue. Her vision wavered. For a moment, the rage rendered her completely senseless. Ah told myself Ah wouldn't lose my temper, that it's not my business. She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled; it did nothing to soothe the fire pulsing through her veins.

"Applejack!" said Rarity again, once they were within a dozen feet of her and Big Mac.

"What are ya doin' here?"

"Well, darling, I was serious when I told you that we'd help you fix the barn."

"And ya wait until now?" Applejack grumbled, disdain lacing her words. If her aim had been to put Rarity on a guilt trip, the unicorn deftly side-stepped around it. Rarity pushed back her hood so that Applejack could see her face.

"I assumed that you wouldn't start on it until this horrid weather cleared up. I do hope we're not too late to help."

Which left Applejack on the receiving end of her own blow. There was the barn, in all its ignominy; she had no easy response that would turn Rarity away, and she needed the help. Desperately. Unicorn magic could be quite useful in dismantling it. That didn't change her feelings, though. "Well gee, maybe take a look behind me an' state the obvious, because you're so good at it."

Big Mac, finally realizing the tension in the air, looked on nervously. Bryn stood even taller than the heavily muscled earth pony and as they sized each other up, a modicum of respect showed on Big Mac's face. His sister only spared the human venomous glares; he, on the other hoof, noticed Bryn's size and wondered if he would be of any use in lifting the heavier pieces. Many of them would be crippling loads even for a pony of his strength.

"Let me guess, Rarity, ya want ta sit inside an' warm up for a couple o' hours before ya get to any actual work."

"Oh, don't be dramatic, dear. Bryn and I came to help and that's what we're going to do." Rarity did her best to look ready for action.

Applejack snorted disdainfully. "Help clean up wood an' dirt an' broken trees, in that pretty white outfit?"

"Or just use your magic and stand fifty feet away from dirt at all times." Bryn spoke up for the first time, in that reserved deep voice, and Rarity's cheeks tinged pink.

"I will use my talents where they are the most useful," said the unicorn primly. "For example…" Her horn, poking out from beneath the hood, suddenly flared to brilliant cerulean life. Its energy seeped into the shattered frame beside Applejack and with a splintering crack, it rose from the earth. She beamed with pride. "Where should I put it?"

Applejack merely pointed to the empty wagon. With visible effort, Rarity dropped the entire thing onto the wagon bed. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead. Lifting spells were simple in theory, but required significant magical outpouring proportionate to the mass of the object being lifted. In this case, a two-hundred-pound beam that dwarfed Rarity's one hundred and ten. Nevertheless, she did it, and wiped away the offensive sweat when Applejack's head was turned.

An' now there's no gettin' her to leave, Applejack seethed. Rarity was grinning as if she had single-hoofedly raised a skyscraper. No doubt she's just happy she can use her fancy magic to keep out of the dirt.

Bryn had none. He had to do the job in earth pony fashion, which meant hard physical work. Like Rarity, he had never done hard work in his life before. Skateboarding and reading books were nothing to compare to this. What he did have was a body in good condition, somewhat toned from two years of stretches and weight training on junior high track team, and good insight into the psyches of those who did this sort of work. Growing up in a town built on farming and gold mining and cowboys meant close proximity to people who relied on their hands and strong backs to make a living. Their sons and daughters were in his high school class. Former high school class, he reminded himself.

These ponies fit the description perfectly. They could blend right into Eureka society; he could see them congregating at the bars and gas stations, knocking back beers and talking for hours about the moisture content of hay, or trying to find parts for antique farm equipment handed down for four generations. Early to rise, hard at work, glib in speech, and simple in their ways and manners. To earn a farmer's respect, all you had to do was do the work he expected of you until quitting time and show him and his family the same level of integrity that he practiced. Applejack and her brother might as well have been his parents' friends from church, if they had not been ponies.

Another thought nagged him as he helped the other three tear into the barn. He, Bryn Hansen, was fifteen and pretending to be eighteen. Rarity was twenty-one, although to put an age to a pony using a scale of years standardized to humans was difficult. Perhaps Equestrians thought of aging in different ways. Did ponies show their age as humans did, with wrinkles and gray hair? Gray manes. Bryn watched Applejack with interest. She couldn't be older than Rarity. If she was, it was only by a year or so, and yet if she was twenty or somewhere in that range, she carried herself like somepony fifteen years older and with the forceful attitude of a veteran politician or businessman. There was only curt necessity in her greeting when they first met at Sugarcube Corner; it bordered on hostile, and not in Rainbow Dash's brash muscle-flexing way either. She was deadly serious. Now she tore into a buckled piece of siding like there was a lion caged within her. Such a personality seemed out of place on a freckle-faced mare with a braided tail and the flawless skin of youth.

Or she's just had to grow up faster than normal. If his childhood had been nothing but milking cows and hauling around bales of hay, he might have turned out similarly.

He and Big Mac tried to lift a particularly heavy piece of rafter, its twenty-foot length still intact. This one turned out to be even too much for both of them working together. Applejack watched them strain and curse its stubbornness, but eventually stepped in to stop it. It was the sort of weight that could do internal damage by just attempting to get it free of the ground, let alone carry at chest level.

"Ah think we might need ta cut that one. Or maybe the princess over here can use her magic an' do it for us."

"I'm afraid Severing spells are a bit beyond me," said Rarity.

"How hard can it be ta chop a log in half? Just shoot some sparkles or rainbows at it."

Rarity shook her head at the insult. "Magic is not sparkles and rainbows, Applejack. I simply don't know how to break logs. If it's a Destruction spell, you'd have to ask Twilight."

"Ah don't have time ta ask Twilight."

She backtracked when she saw Applejack's annoyed look. "I suppose I could try…" Concentrating very hard on the beam, she cast a charm that wrapped all of its three-hundred-plus pounds in blue energy. Perhaps she was trying to transmute it into a lighter material or force it to dismantle itself, but in the end all she accomplished was to put an absurd glittery magenta ribbon around it, like some sort of oversized piece of firewood being given as a gift on Hearts and Hooves Day. Her spell tied the ends into a dainty bow. Bryn began to laugh. He roared until tears streamed down his face.

"Oh yes, very funny, Bryn." Rarity was quite embarrassed at the results. She hadn't been trying to tie a bow at all. "If you can do it, feel free."

"That's what ya call tryin'?" Applejack thundered. "Of all the…" She yanked the ribbon off with her teeth and spat it onto the ground. "Use that liftin' spell and take off whatever weight ya can, an' Big Mac an' Bryn can handle the rest. And quit bein' silly."

With Rarity holding up some of the load, they got it into the wagon, but Bryn's muscles screamed in protest. It was like carrying his own weight on his back. He thanked the heavy gloves Rarity had made him. They kept the splinters and ice chips away from his hands, but the log still bore down heavily on his shoulder and clavicle. Big Mac gave him an approving nod when they finally tossed it into the wagon. It feels good, he thought, the same way it feels when I cut wood for Rarity. I'm doing something physically useful.

The unicorn watched him muscle his end of the log into the wagon and, to Bryn's great amusement, blushed brightly. "I didn't mean to laugh at you," he told her. "It was just… A pink ribbon?"

"I didn't mean to conjure a pink ribbon! It just sort of slipped out because I was thinking about that dress I'm making for a client. The sash is absolutely divine but it was just, I don't know, missing something. Pink ribbon. Perhaps a pink lining."

"You're cute when you randomly talk about dresses." He kissed her muzzle, fast enough that Applejack didn't notice. "Just don't try to stuff me into one, or I'll tickle you. A lot."

Cheekbones pink, Rarity brushed her tail against him. "Little chance of that. I simply adore the way you look in that coat. Those shoulders, so strong, and-"

She left the sentence unfinished. Last night, she had clutched at those shoulders, his bare shoulders and chest, pressed against hers in the most intimate of embraces. If she was turned on just by watching him carry wood, what would she do in a private setting?

Bryn shook his head and diverted his mind away, to anything but Rarity's flanks. Thoughts like that weren't safe for work.

He fell into an easy rhythm: one piece after another, and no stopping to talk or rest. The exertion (and the lingering thoughts of Rarity beneath him, calling his name) had him sweating beneath his jacket in no time. It was the perfect thing to balance out the subzero temperatures, and he found himself smiling cheerfully as he and Big Mac methodically dealt with the larger pieces.

If only Applejack shared his good temper. She stayed on the far side of the job site from Rarity and if her brother was happy in his work, she was the opposite. Even if she's wise beyond her years, how does the bad temper fit in? She said nothing and tackled chunks of the south wall with venomous growls. Finally she snapped at Rarity, who stood atop the pile and cast bursts of magic at smaller targets so they would leap into the wagon two at a time.

"Gee, Rarity, why don't ya just take only the ones lighter than your fool head? If liftin' heavy stuff's too much for ya."

"Applejack-"

"Shut it," the other mare snarled.

The others, bent under the weight of another big one, missed it, and Big Mac examined their progress so far. "Sis, Ah reckon ya should go in an' get warm while Ah dump the wagon." Another unusually long sentence from him; Rarity stared.

The wagon was piled high with the barn's remnants. How much time had passed, Bryn wasn't sure, but it certainly didn't feel like much, and not enough to fill it to that level. He let out a breath and wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. To be honest, he was thirsty and muscles he didn't know existed were aching, but he would never have been the first to complain and give Applejack an excuse to lay into him as well as Rarity.

"Go ahead, Big Mac. Ah ain't headin' in yet. Noon's still a couple hours off."

Noon? That meant they had been at it for over four hours. No wonder his arms were sore.

"Eeyup," said the stallion evenly. Giving his sister a quizzical look, he hitched his collar to the wagon and hauled it around the farmhouse to the trash heap. The wood could, in time, be chopped and used for the kitchen stove. Even the nails might be reused later. Waste, to him, was a sickening concept.

"Go in, or don't, Ah don't give a buck," Applejack replied, turning away from them. "Ah'm gonna keep at it."

"Are you going to be like this forever?" Rarity burst out. "You're being a foal about all of this. I can only say sorry so many times before it has to start going the other way."

"Nopony told ya to come, and Ah didn't ask ya, so don't expect me ta think it's different just because a few days have passed."

Rarity sighed patiently. "It's not about change, it's about friendship. If my shop blew down and I needed help to get it back up, don't you think I would want your help?"

Applejack grunted. Apparently she didn't think so. With a shiver, Rarity said, "Can't we talk about this somewhere warmer? And don't argue about it," she added as Applejack opened her mouth furiously. "I can see you shivering. You're cold too."

The sun was strong above their heads, but did nothing to the chill, or the eerie silence only noticeable once the sounds of demolition and talking were gone. Once the sweat dried and rapidly cooled his body, Bryn agreed with Rarity, but again kept it to himself. If he were alone… then maybe, just maybe, he would phase, to forget the cold for a while.

But that's not an option. Ever. It wasn't even worth thinking about. He slid his hands into his jacket pockets and endured it.

"Fine then. Come in, but Ah'm not promisin' anything."

To Applejack's surprise, over half of the barn was in the wagon, and most of the troublesome pieces had already been dealt with. Begrudgingly she admitted that without help, the same amount of progress would have taken days. Another day of work would see it done. Torn between gratitude and irritation, she shook her head and led them to the house.

Bryn knew he liked it immediately after going through the doorway. The Apples' home was a delightful contradiction, an exercise in how to create comfortable surroundings out of frugality. It was exactly what he expected to find. While Rarity's decoration choices were like the unholy spawn of an Ikea store and a dollhouse, this place was full of bare wood, seldom painted. The varnish on the floors and tables and chairs showed off the solid hoof-made construction. Low ceilings and soft, arched doorways made an otherwise sparsely furnished house feel safe and cozy; in the corner, a black potbelly stove belched out heat. He suddenly realized why the place felt so achingly bittersweet. It's a lot like my old house. Not the trailer he had known most recently, but the house before that, in the valley. The broad boards of the living room and downstairs hallway floors were nearly twins of those in that Eureka house, and the carved shelves too. It was subtle touches like this that made all the difference.

Even the simple chairs were inviting. He chose one at the table and sat in it. Rarity sat beside him, giggling at how his legs stuck out. The furniture was sized for a sitting pony and his legs were cramped, as if he was back in elementary school at the miniature desks. Applejack poked the dying fire with a pair of tongs. Once it was stoked, she ignored the chairs completely, instead pacing back and forth in front of the window.

If anything, it was quieter inside the house than outside. Each creak of the floorboards made Bryn jumpy. It wasn't the only thing that ruined the ambience, either. In the corner nearest the stairs, Granny Smith sat in her armchair. She rocked mechanically and said her usual lines. "Death. Darkness. It makes all of us one. One of them."

"Applejack, dear, is Granny Smith all right?"

Rarity had noticed her catatonic mumbling, but not the words. Only Bryn picked them up. Hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

"Ah think ya heard me that other day when Ah told ya she's been like this for weeks. Not that it's your business."

"Go to the forest," Granny Smith said, in a tone that was almost pleading. "To the trees."

"And ya don't get to call me 'dear' so ya can go ahead an' cut it out." Applejack talked right over her grandma. In the breaks between speech, the rocking chair squeaked. The floorboards groaned. It's way too quiet here sometimes, Bryn thought. No wonder they ended up talking to themselves.

While the two mares bickered, Bryn's attention was now mostly on the elderly pony across the room. She said random nonsensical statements that, to him, were too close to that day, in the woods. "Walls within walls. Trees within trees. Staring."

"Can't we be civilized like we used to?" begged Rarity.

"Ah'm not the one prancin' around with him."

Rarity stood up to face her friend. "A lady does not prance. She saunters, or struts. Her walk is refined and stately."

"Buck it!" Applejack kicked a chair. Not satisfied with the loud bang it created, she gripped the thing between her teeth and hurled it against the wall. "Don't ya see that every time Ah see ya two together, it makes me wanna hurt somethin'? And then ya come over here today and rub my muzzle in it!" Her hooves pummeled the chair to pieces. "Don't think Ah didn't see that kiss!" She transferred her anger to the chair beside it. Applebloom's chair. It, too, was quickly smashed. "Ah love ya, Rarity. Or I used to, before Ah started hatin' ya instead."

Rarity, with soft tones, tried to calm her friend's temper. If she was afraid of sharing the chair's fate, she did not show it.

"Applejack, look out the window."

"Why the hoof do Ah need to look out my window-"

"Please?" Rarity asked. "Just tell me what you see."

"This is just some buckin' psycho hooey," she complained, but she stared through the frosty glass all the same. "Ah see my damn barn blown down an' all the livestock stuffed into the lean-to. Buckin' winter that if it's this bad at the end o' October, Ah don't wanna see December." She sucked in an angry breath. "Is that what ya wanted?"

"Winter. We work together to clean up winter, when Winter Wrap Up comes around, so shouldn't we work together during winter too?" When Applejack said nothing, the unicorn plowed on. "Bryn and I came to help you. That's all. We're not out to upset you."

"If you're not, then ya should just let me be."

"All of Ponyville's freezing, and Pinkie hasn't come home. Say there's five more months of this and you don't get the barn back up at all, and you still want to push us away?"

"If that happens, we'll wing it. We've done it before." Applejack's traitor voice, though, faltered at the end. If Rarity was clueless to Granny Smith's fatalistic monologue, she at least noticed the hitch in her friend's speech. She was on it before Applejack had a chance to breathe.

"I love you, Applejack, as the friend I've known for most of my life who's always been there for me. Bryn and I will come back tomorrow and the next day and the next, until you don't need our help."

"Comes in the night," Granny whispered.

Rarity turned, as if truly aware of the other pony for the first time. "Have you taken her to Nurse Redheart? Maybe she would know more."

"The weather's been too bad ta go, an' there's nothin' physically wrong with her. Strong as a bull, just… the other stuff." Applejack shook her head and looked at the furniture she had just ruined. "Look, Rarity, it's not that Ah'm not grateful for your help on the barn. Ah am. Me an' Big Mac both. If only it wasn't about more than just that…"

A rapid-fire thunder of hooves on the stairs announced the arrival of another pony. Applebloom's head poked around the banister, followed by the rest of her. Her eyes widened like saucers when she saw Bryn, but she went for Applejack first.

"What was that big crash, Sis? Oh, and Ah finished cleanin' my room. Just don't, ya know… look too close at the closet." She thumped down the stairs and trotted right up to Bryn. "Are ya Bryn? Sweetie Belle told me all about ya."

Applejack looked at the ceilings, at the curtains, at the table, anywhere but at the two broken chairs and the obvious dent in the wallpaper where the chair had met the wall with great force. Those freckled cheeks threatened to burn from embarrassment. "Um… nothin' happened, Applebloom, just a little accident." Finally she looked down at the chair. She had made that chair for Applebloom. It was less polished than the others, which were her brother's handiwork, but its size and imperfections made it unique. A moment's anger had destroyed it.

"Are ya really a yoo-man from outer space?" Applebloom wondered. "Why can't ya get home? Sweetie Belle said that ya got lost and came to live with her an' Rarity."

She jumped excitedly as she talked, her cherry-red mane bouncing. The filly was five different kinds of adorable and Bryn didn't know where to start: with the idea that he was some variety of alien, or that at the moment, getting home was low down on his list of priorities. She held out a butterscotch hoof for him to shake. He tried to say a simple "hello" but she talked right over him.

"If ya can't get home, maybe the Crusaders can help! Scootaloo said that she fixed up her scooter to go really fast. We could take you!"

"The Crusaders?" They couldn't be actual Crusaders of the sort he had read about in seventh-grade history class, the knights and soldiers that fought in religious battles. But she quickly clarified the term.

"The Cutie Mark Crusaders! Me an' Sweetie an' Scootaloo. We have a secret clubhouse and a secret hoofshake an' everything!" She looked up at him; the red bow tied in her mane nearly reached his waist. "We're on a quest to get our cutie marks an' we'll leave no mountain unclimbed, no river uncrossed, no-"

"Ah don't think Bryn wants ta hear about your cutie mark," interrupted Applejack. Like Sweetie Belle's, Applebloom's flank was bare.

"But sis, we're having a meetin' tomorrow at the clubhouse an' Bryn should come! Scootaloo wanted ta meet him too."

"That's up ta him," said Applejack. She surreptitiously collected the pieces of chair while Applebloom spoke. Gone was the anger of only a few moments ago; instead, she hung her head and looked quite out of character. Bryn, meanwhile, was quickly coerced into a secret Crusaders meeting involving such secretive things that even Applebloom, the co-creator of said secrets, couldn't share them with him. It was a matter of life and death. She drove this point home with whispered sincerity and with her ticklish muzzle in his ear, he only understood some of what she was saying. It involved blindfolds and solemn oaths, at any rate.

"Rarity," Applejack said finally, as she pushed the chair underneath the table, "can Ah talk to ya for a second?"

"Of course, Applejack."

"Somehow we'll get ya back into space, to where ya came from!" Applebloom crowed, drowning out Rarity. "CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS ASTRONAUTS!"

Bryn didn't have the heart to tell her that his current situation- living with Rarity, the mare he loved more than he knew he could love anything or anyone- was what he wanted, despite a part of him that missed his family terribly. He missed his room and tucking Serena in at night. He missed normal human things like cars and running water and the Internet, but whenever the homesickness became too much to bear, Rarity was there to kiss it better. Applebloom began to describe the Cutie Mark Crusaders' clubhouse and in the background, barely audible over the noise of the stove crackling, Granny Smith whispered her own set of secrets.

"It's coming…"

---

Applejack led Rarity into the sitting room, through the door at the end of the hall where the living room met the kitchen. It was Granny Smith's favorite knitting spot when the front porch was too cold for comfort. For that reason, other than a few padded chairs, it was bare and in a more secluded part of the house. Its solitary window looked out onto the south field. Rarity had never set hoof in this particular room, but she could see how it could be a comfortable and cozy place in the afternoon sun. She picked the chair under the window and quickly slipped one of the quilts over her lap.

It was chilly, even in sunlight, and the room had an air of neglect. Rarity thought it strange that a room so well suited for sitting and working, or quiet thinking, felt so unused. The air tasted of abandonment. Applejack paced back and forth in front of the door. Her hoofsteps echoed on the floorboards, somewhat muffled by the quarter-inch of dust that lay thickly on every surface.

"Ah couldn't talk in front of Applebloom and she doesn't know about- about me."

"It's all right, dear." The farmer pony didn't object to the word. "And I'm sorry for putting you in that situation. If it were me, and I saw you with Bryn…"

Applejack sat in the other chair. "You're serious about him, aren't ya? Ah can see it."

"He makes me happy," Rarity answered. "He's everything I wanted when I pictured the perfect stallion. He does things for me without complaining and is great with Sweetie Belle. She adores him. I can't imagine how things would be if he ever left."

"But Bryn ain't a stallion."

"He's my prince, and he's a stallion in all the… right places. Those shoulders…" She let out a shiver of remembered pleasure and Applejack gagged.

"Ah get the point, ya don't have to describe his shoulders!" Applejack growled. "Ya love him and ya feel bad about rubbin' it in my muzzle. Ya don't have to." She paced back and forth while staring out at the south field. "Ah've got a hundred problems an' what's goin' on between you two isn't one of 'em."

"But are you going to be all right?"

The shadows seemed to add years to Applejack. "We're Apples. We always survive." In a much lower and more defeated voice she added, "The day when anythin' in my life gets easier, Ah'll be sure to tell ya."

Rarity extended a hoof. "Truce, then?"

"For what it's worth," the farm pony sighed, "Ah'm sorry. Sorry for losin' my temper."

Applejack opened her mouth to say more. When she looked into Rarity's eyes, those words jammed in her throat and she realized she had nothing else to apologize for. The disagreement between them was a minor irritation, nothing more; the real problems had nothing to do with Rarity.

A part of her felt awful for using Rarity as a punching bag, but the unicorn's look was far too patronizing for her taste, so she brushed her away. She was done saying sorry for who she was or how she felt. She certainly did not need a shoulder to cry on. Or, for that matter, a friend feeling sorry (or pretending to feel sorry) for loving somepony else.

What she needed was a reprieve from bad luck. She needed Granny Smith to recover her mental faculty. She needed the barn rebuilt and the winter over.

But that ain't happenin' anytime soon. Applejack sighed and tried to muster up a smile for Rarity, so she would drop the subject. A floorboard creaked. She whipped her head around and Bryn was in the doorway.

He had approached the sitting room and made less noise than a mouse. How in blazes does he do that?

"There's- well, something here to see you, Applejack."

He led them back to the kitchen. On the doormat, shaking snow from his scales, was Spike.

Bryn still had trouble believing his eyes, and he had been the one to open the door and let Spike into the house. Talking ponies were all well and good, but… a dragon? A dragon in the kitchen. This dragon was short and stocky, standing on two stubby legs. His scales were an iridescent reptilian green. Violet spines crested on the top of his head like a dinosaur. They extended all the way down his spine and terminated in a spade-shaped tail, which he held in his claws and squeezed nervously. Applejack said hello to him, but his wide emerald eyes never left Bryn.

"Applejack," the dragon gasped, "what is- that?" He pointed a claw at Bryn.

Bryn forced back laughter. The dragon sounded like a frightened eight-year-old boy, something he had not expected. He wasn't sure what a dragon was supposed to sound like. Definitely not that. The crest of the dragon's head reached only to the tops of his thighs; maybe he was an eight-year-old.

Applejack went into the kitchen, looking for the teapot so she could offer Spike something hot. He had walked all the way from town in nothing but his scales. "Bryn, meet Spike, Twilight's assistant. Spike, Bryn."

"Is this the dragon you were telling me about, Rare?" said Bryn, turning back to Rarity. He held out his hand for the little dragon to shake.

And then several things happened at once. Granny Smith suddenly jerked and began to chant under her breath, Rarity came through the doorway and caught sight of Spike, Spike did a double-take at seeing Rarity, and, unfortunately, Spike picked up on Bryn's pet name for Rarity. Rarity, in turn, hesitated. She hadn't expected to see Spike here.

"Rarity?" Spike chirped, ignoring Bryn. "Why haven't you stopped by the library lately? I made the most delicious jewel cupcakes and I saved some for you."

"Erm… things have been rather busy, Spike, but maybe Bryn and I can stop by on our way home today." Rarity smiled mechanically; it never reached her eyes.

Unnoticed in the corner of the living room, Granny Smith groaned and sat up straight in her chair. The only sounds she made were the creaks of the chair legs and a thin, pitiful squeal. Applejack set the kettle on the stove and busied herself with the tea.

Spike's eyes narrowed. "But- what's he doing here, and what IS he?"

"He's a human, Spike. It's a rather long story on how he came here but he's been staying with-"

Here, Rarity practically had to force her own hoof into her mouth. She was on the verge of saying he's been staying with me. Nothing would set Spike off faster than hearing that someone else, someone besides him, was staying with Rarity and- well, doing more than just staying with her.

"But- but-" Spike struggled.

"Spike dear, Bryn was helping us with Applejack's barn. You probably saw it on your way in. And what's my little Spikey-Wikey doing walking all the way to Sweet Apple Acres with no coat?" She lifted Spike's chin with her hoof. At her touch, Spike's face assumed a slavish, doe-eyed rapture. Bryn frowned. Something was weird between them. "You must be frozen! How's that tea coming, Applejack?"

Applejack spooned loose tea into a brown earthenware teapot and poured boiling water into it. Behind her, Granny Smith began to shake. She was rigid and her mouth was open in a soundless shriek. Nopony noticed.

"I had to!" Spike burst out. "Twilight sent me a message and I had to deliver it." He held up the object in his hand. It was a damp scroll, tightly rolled, and he slipped a claw underneath the sealing wax. "Twilight's in Canterlot and she sent it to me by magic. It's addressed to you, Applejack."

"Ta me?" Applejack wandered back into the living room, a mug clutched in her teeth. She handed the tea to Spike and took the letter. "What the hay is she doin' in Canterlot again?" Muttering, she went over to the window so she could easily see Twilight's words.

Bryn leaned close to Rarity. "Can I talk to you for just a second?"

When he had led the unicorn out of earshot, he faced her. "So, about Spike?" It came out sounding more blunt than he intended. Rarity reached for his hand, and the smile he received was genuine.

"I'm sure you noticed that Spike has a… er… thing for me. He's only a baby dragon, eight years old in March, and somehow he developed Equestria's biggest crush on me when Twilight brought him to Ponyville for the first time. I'm not leading him on, but I can't just break his heart by telling him the truth. It would destroy him."

"I guess that's why he sounds like a little kid..."

"And why I didn't want to tell him that we're dating or living together." Rarity looked over her shoulder at Spike. Like a hound on scent, his lizardlike eyes followed her every move. "Sometime soon I'll have to find a way to tell him. And no, my prince doesn't have competition from a seven-year-old dragon with a schoolboy crush." She gave him her special smile. It was not an artificial one like Spike received, all teeth and polite eyes, but one she reserved for him. He could write a novel about this specific facial expression. Rarity kept her lips closed but smiled widely, as if she had a delicious secret and only he was in on it. He loved her dimples, her kissable cheekbones, and her eyes that sparkled with passion. If Spike hadn't been standing six feet away, he would have kissed the daylights out of her.

"I never doubted you for a second."

"You'd better not, or you know what happens…"

Bryn only smiled back. "I know. Tickles. Lots of them."

Twilight wrote in minuscule, precise cursive. Applejack had to strain her eyes to read the letters. She read through it, her jaw slowly dropping as she read about the reason Twilight had traveled to Canterlot with Rainbow Dash. She never reached the second paragraph, though, about Fluttershy and the Windigoes and the dragon attacks and everything else. All of the attention in the room went to Granny Smith, who suddenly fell out of her chair.

The old pony's body thudded as it struck the floor. She began to scream before the other four could do much more than gasp. It all happened within the space of two seconds. "IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE-"

Granny Smith contorted into a series of impossible positions. A stream of moans and growls and gibberish issued from her mouth, but the trickle of spittle that followed soon muffled whatever she was trying to say. The seizure had her in an iron grip. Applejack, frozen with terror, watched her grandmother writhe and drool. There was nothing she could do. "Help her!" Rarity shrieked. "Applejack, we have to do something!"

Bent double, every tendon and muscle taut, Granny Smith flopped onto her back. Her eyes rolled upward until they were hidden behind the wrinkles in her face. She was thrashing around so wildly that Applejack was afraid to touch her. It was as if electricity was being injected into her frail form, making her legs twist at odd angles. Foam sprayed from her lips. Her breath came in hideous, gurgling gasps, and as her body remained rigid, she began to choke.

"Turn her over!" Bryn shouted. "She's suffocating!" He tried to rush in on Applejack's right, but a flailing limb caught him full in the face. The gagging noises intensified.

Just then, something scraped against the wall of the house. Nopony noticed it, because Rarity's frantic shrieks and the flurry of other noises drowned it out. Was it snow, falling from the roof?

Spike yelled counterpoint to Rarity. Bryn tried to reach Granny Smith to turn her over, and kept receiving kicks from the spasming hooves. Applejack remained petrified while her grandma's seizure intensified. Granny Smith let out a series of horrible rattling breaths, and then was still.

"…Granny?" said Applejack, her lower lip trembling. The pony did not answer.

"Granny, wake up!"

In the silence, the scraping continued. It sounded like fingernails being drawn along the siding.

"Sis, what happened? Ah heard somepony screaming-" came a small voice. Applebloom appeared once again at the top of the stairs. Then she saw the motionless pony on the floor and let out a howl.

---

Four ponies and one human surrounded Granny Smith. Some sobbed, others stood dumbfounded, but all had their backs turned away from the window. If they were alert, they would have noticed that the light in the room flickered. Those odd scraping noises became more frequent. A dark shape slithered across the yard.

It saw through the front windows of Sweet Apple Acres. It noticed the departed mare and felt pleasure at her demise. After all, it had a very long memory, and it could recall this particular pony as a young filly who went for a nighttime trek into the forest and saw something that could never be unseen. Something that would haunt her for the rest of her life. One glimpse inspired the sort of fear that fueled a thousand nightmares and a thousand sleepless nights. A second momentary glimpse, seen through the window, had terrorized the old pony to death, eighty years later.

Four more lives left within to take, it thought, vibrating with ravenous anticipation. But it was patient. Sooner or later, all would fall under its spell and be devoured. There was no shortage of prey.

It slipped away into the shadows, shattering apple trees in its wake.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: REUNION

November 1

Canterlot

Heavy blows struck the sides of the carriage and rocked it on its axles, even though the vehicle was a tank built of gilded wood. Curtains hung from its back and side windows. Twilight could have moved them and watched the rush hour Canterlot traffic if she had so wished, but she kept them closed. Looking out the sides or anywhere but the front window made her seasick. She kept her head forward. Focusing on the details of the upholstery inside the carriage kept her mind off her burbling stomach.

The front panel was a bay window with a screen between her and the two drivers. Both stallions' harnesses were coupled to the carriage, but the linkages were easily detached and either pony could defend the carriage's occupant if she was threatened. They battled a thick traffic jam. It was odd to see this much activity at nine-thirty in the morning, but for whatever reason it looked like half of the city had packed into the narrow downtown streets. Is there a festival that I forgot about, or a street fair?

"Stand aside!" cried the unicorn stallion on the left. "Make way!" bellowed the other, a stocky earth pony. They cut a path through the throng with commands and physical force. Twilight's carriage was imposing and rode high on its suspension, which helped to scare passerby out of the way. Nopony wanted to be squashed by a small wheeled house.

She wished the drivers wouldn't make such a fuss. They might have made better progress if they were not acting like she was a Princess. It was Celestia's carriage, after all, and common folk expected to see Celestia in it. All the yelling was making half the street stop and stare. Attention was the last thing she wanted.

Another strike landed solidly on the taxi's back panel, as if a sturdy hoof had kicked it. Twilight lowered the screen. "What's going on?"

"Stay inside, ma'am! It's not safe out here!"

With a lurch, they mounted the curb and nearly took out a newspaper stand, not to mention two lampposts. The shouts rose like a tempestuous sea. What was going on? Twilight drew her lap robe tighter about her flanks and, in so doing, knocked several books onto the floor panel. Books surrounded her on the seats and she was otherwise alone in a cabin with ample room for at least five ponies (or two ponies and one alicorn). There were far too many volumes and scrolls to fit in her saddlebags, so she had bound them all together with knots; unfortunately, her research skill far outstripped her knot-tying prowess. As the taxi fishtailed and dropped off the curb, books flew. She ignored them, instead holding tighter to the parchment scrolls in her hooves. Those stayed with her. Of course, none of the baggage would be leaving her sight, but these in particular were the most important. Lives might depend on their contents.

From her room to the train station was just over a half-mile. Twilight could have slipped on a cloak and made the trip on hoof, but then she couldn't carry the books, so that meant a taxi. She couldn't trust an ordinary Canterlot taxi with her cargo. She also wanted nopony to know her movements. This meant a bit of detective work, some coercion of Celestia's guards, and the temporary use of one of the touring carriages parked in the east courtyard. Those two guards now pulled her at an alarming pace through what sounded like the beginning of a battle. Through the swell of raised voices, she could hear the telltale pops and hisses of unicorn magic. Spells were being cast nearby.

"DOWN WITH THE ROYALTY!" somepony roared, as closely as if it had been yelled in her ear. Something hit the carriage with a wailing crash. It smashed into the side panel with such force that the glass exploded and the panel bent inward with a sharp crack. Shards sliced at her face. Twilight saw the unicorn guard cast a spell over his shoulder, and for a horrifying instant, magical sparks shot pell-mell past the windows like out-of-control fireworks. Her stomach lurched as they jerked left and right. The entire thing rode on two wheels as they slipped down a back alley and ran over several garbage bins. The wheels scraped against the stones.

The thoroughbrace beneath her only dampened part of the quaking. It was, as she understood it, the complex framework of straps and springs that the carriage's frame 'rode' on. Instead of transferring every bump to the passengers, it turned them into more manageable rocking motions. Still, the feeling of being completely out of control, in a rattling deathtrap, made her dizzy with fear.

"Looks like we're past the worst of it," the unicorn called back to her. "If the riots have made it to Crystal Boulevard, that's bad news. Stay inside, madam, it might not be safe yet until we're past downtown."

Twilight tried not to look at the broken window.

"They've pushed the police back three blocks!" yelled the Earth pony, over the sound of the wheels. "Are the Guard coming to reinforce them?"

"We can't worry about that now. The Princess's assistant needs us to get her to the train station and that's exactly what we are going to do. Focus, Private!"

"Yes, sir." He bent into his harness and the carriage picked up speed.

Riots? Twilight sat back on the seat, feeling more uneasy by the second. Since when did Canterlot have riots? And what had that scream been about? Somepony had shot a curse at her carriage. She, Twilight Sparkle, an ordinary Ponyville unicorn, had been shot at, simply because she was riding in a Palace vehicle. She knew a Blasting Spell when she saw one.

"Almost there, madam. Keep your head down." A right turn, then a left, and left again. Twilight would have been completely lost if she hadn't felt the telltale bump of the wheels that meant they had crossed the bridge onto South Saddle Street. The station was only a few moments away.

Compared to downtown, the traffic around the station was sparse, and few stares followed the coach as it pulled up on the street above. Still, Twilight wasn't allowed to open the door until both drivers had unhooked their straps and took up guard positions on either end. They swiveled their heads and stood at military attention. "We will hold here until you return, madam."

"Thank you for getting me here safely," said Twilight.

They bowed their heads. Chill winds whipped the blue plumes on their helmets. Twilight decided to bring the lap robe with her, and her coat as well. Her legs were unsteady on the stairs down to the platform. Quite apart from walking off the motion sickness, she was nervous about being here in the first place, and she had no reason to be. But still…

Travelers wandered the station, checking pocket watches or fussing with tickets. She had arrived at the station during a rare moment of peace. No trains were currently arriving or departing, and four of the five platforms were deserted. She felt quite alone and exposed. Knowing that two trained warriors stood guard at the top of the stairs did nothing to soothe the sour butterflies in her stomach. Where were her friends? She looked down at the itinerary, which she pulled from her saddlebag. The 10:05 from Ponyville was the one she wanted. It was 9:47, according to the wall clock above the ticket station, and usually the trains ran at least several minutes early.

Had something delayed the train? She paced and took shallow breaths, not wanting to think about that possibility. When she looked up at the clock again, it was eleven past ten. No train. No sign of a train, or any discernable train noises as it puffed its way up the mountain. No plumes of smoke.

Twilight drew the coat tighter around herself, as the cold knifed through it. Why am I feeling like this? Like I'm afraid of what will happen when my friends arrive?

Finally she found a bench and sat. When she did, a wave of fatigue struck. Not the ordinary tiredness that comes after a full day, but a crippling one, one born of many sleepless nights and emotional stresses. She hadn't slept in four days and she felt famished and drained and jittery. Flyaway strands of unwashed mane drooped over her face. The shattered coach window had sliced her cheek in several places. No doubt she looked as awful as she felt. She wanted nothing more than to have her friends here so that she could share her discovery. But now that she had the vital information at hoof, what would she do with it?

To Twilight, few things were worse than operating without a plan, without a checklist from which to organize your next move. She stared at the scrolls in her saddlebag. They were a stepping stone, a first leap up a dark mountain, but they were still only a start. She had the first item on a checklist and couldn't see the rest. How could she play chess without knowing all of the moves? None of the ones that she knew made any sense. The ones she could see were all unpleasant.

Underneath it all was that familiar apprehension. It was what first brought her to Canterlot, the vague sense that something would go wrong, and that her friends would be hurt if she were not ready to face that unknown challenge. It had once driven her to learn more about combat and to seek the Princess's help. She felt less prepared to face it now than she ever did.

"Buck..." She rested her head in two shaking hooves.

No train came. She sat in utter silence. Two ponies approached her platform, moving slowly, and she picked up snippets of their conversation.

"I am telling you, dear, there is nothing to worry about."

"And is that more of your secondhand information, Jet Set? Our carriage was just chased! In broad daylight!" This was a mare's voice, with the clipped and measured accent of a Canterlot noble. "Perhaps you heard that the Wonderbolts derby has been postponed because of these- ruffians! Why are the streets not being made safe by the Guard? My own assistant could not be bothered to tell me of the cancellation. Instead, I hear about it from Lady Cantamere yesterday."

"I was not aware of that," drawled Jet Set. Twilight imagined him tugging at a groomed mustache.

"Lady Cantamere told me that the Wonderbolts' manager called it off because of these riots, or threats of riots, in the city center. If the Wonderbolts themselves do not feel comfortable performing in their own stadium, how are we supposed to? Cantamere was all a-flutter about it, I can assure you. She is now afraid to venture outside her estate without armed escort."

"Indeed. Although a ball gown in the wrong shade of off-white would make Lady Cantamere a-flutter. Imagine what an actual riot might do."

"Are you not taking this seriously, husband?"

"Of course I am taking it seriously. But Upper Crust, what am I supposed to do about it? Are we meant to put our lives on standby because of rumors? We have obligations, dear wife. Our careers and responsibilities come first. If you are concerned about our safety, I will double our security detail at the manor. These sorts of troubles happen from time to time. Remember 1387? The Princesses are no stranger to violent revolt, and have weathered worse."

Twilight looked up.

"Have you heard anything at the bank lately?" said the mare. Her wavy silver mane fluttered in the breeze. Snowflakes had begun to settle atop her head.

"Oh, a whisper here and there, but nothing of importance. Lockheed Maretin has apparently suffered labor strikes and damage to one of their foundries. Blowback from all of that unpleasantness in the Undercity, I suppose. We are assisting them in recouping their losses."

"The airship manufacturer? I thought they had relocated to Manehatten."

"They have a subsidiary in Manehatten, yes, but their main factory is still in Lower Canterlot. Labor costs are kept low, and so The accident at Canterlot Ironworks has- severely affected their supply chain, and the bank hears the strangest stories as to what caused it all in the first place. First it is the worst industrial accident in decades, then a griffon saboteur, then some sort of monster, or all three at once. We are still very much in the dark."

Twilight's skin prickled. The male unicorn pushed a pair of spectacles higher on his muzzle. As the pair passed, she studied them. They were bundled in finery and held their heads high. Canterlot was a city of aristocracy, but Twilight had years of experience from her time in the Palace, and she knew how to distinguish various levels of prosperity and authority. It was easy if you knew what to look for. There were ponies with incredible wealth but very little power; there were ponies with great influence but of lesser means; and then there were the favored few, who possessed both. One could occupy months with a study of Canterlot's noble bloodlines. Many of them sat atop the nexuses of power like kings: banks, manufacturing conglomerates, and international import/export services. The old families had feuded and intermingled and backstabbed each other for centuries.

These two had the look of old money, and lots of it. Their clothes and jewelry alone represented tens of thousands of bits. Jet Set adjusted his waistcoat and pulled out a golden watch, then glanced at the schedule on the wall. "The Ponyville train is late, I see."

"Ponyville?" the other unicorn exclaimed. "That up-and-coming designer at last year's Garden Party, she was from Ponyville, if I remember correctly."

"Ah, yes. Rarity. She was quite the sensation at the last Wonderbolts derby. Lovely mare. I mean- she creates lovely fashions," he hastily added, as his wife glowered at him.

"We are twenty minutes early. I told you we should have remained in the carriage until the train arrives. There is no need to stand around and catch our death of cold."

Jet Set took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. "Nonsense, dear. We can enjoy the air. Mobs aside, it really is a fine morning."

Upper Crust huffed but said nothing.

"When we get to Manehatten…" The pair stepped out of earshot, having taken no notice of Twilight. She wasn't surprised. She had brushed shoulders with these very ponies and many others of their social class before, at the Grand Galloping Gala and various balls and cotillions. Being Celestia's one and only personal student came with certain perks. But without a favored place beside the Princess, and in her current condition, she was just another pony, a lost and bedraggled vagrant not even worth a second glance. Those ponies in the street attacked me because they're upset at ponies like this and thought I was one, just because I was in a royal carriage.

But she was still the same Twilight Sparkle. The 'ruffians' Upper Crust mentioned were only ordinary Canterlot citizens. What had changed?

Princess Celestia had taught her social theory as part of a basic grounding in science, mathematics, and history. The very structure of an empire meant that certain ponies' personal wealth or fortunes would naturally be better than others'. If everypony was a banker, or a steel magnate, or even a Princess, then there would be nopony to do the thousands of other jobs that needed doing. Equestria needed farmers just as much as it did nobles. Perhaps more so. The science behind cutie marks only backed up this theory, because what was a cutie mark if not a representation of a pony's place in society, a statement of what that pony was best suited to do? Such a system was a symbiotic circle. Or, more accurately, a wheel in motion. It could only sustain itself if each piece in the wheel supported the others. No one piece could sabotage or undermine another, or attempt to seize more power for itself. Rulers did not terrorize their subjects and subjects did not overthrow their rulers. Break a single segment of the wheel, or nudge it out of alignment, and…

In the distance, a train whistle sounded.

---

The train car was the sixth from the locomotive. Only the caboose and the mail car trailed behind, bouncing and clattering along the narrow rails at a steady clip. Bryn kept bumping shoulders with Rarity, who sat beside him on the wooden bench seat. Mail car and caboose kept up a clanking countermelody to the rails' chatter and the locomotive's faint chugging, an orchestra of vibration and steam and smoke and noise.

Bryn had only ridden on a train once before in his life, because stationary museum steam engines did not count and neither did toys. All trains fascinated him as a small child but steam trains in particular caught his fancy. Their size and smoke-belching grandeur would awe any young boy, but it was less about mechanics and more about the nature of train travel.

When he was six, his parents took him on a ride on one of the last working steam train lines in the west of America, possibly the last functional locomotive that was not collecting dust in a warehouse somewhere. The experience was altogether a poor imitation of an authentic train trip. For fifteen dollars, the engineers would pull tourists around a four-mile circular section of track, and narrate the event with tired trivia about mines and old railroads and ranching. Then local men dressed as old-timey railroad workers would greet the departing passengers and hand out Old West souvenirs. The history and stuffy Cliffs-Notes narrations bored seven-year-old Bryn to death. The actual train ride, however, did not.

Even a four-mile stint in that rickety passenger coach, its windows open to the wind and smoke, was enough to plant a seed in his mind. Train rides were visceral in a way that a comparable distance in a car was not. He felt every bump, every shudder and wail of unoiled metal, every gust of wind. His mind was able to appreciate the forces at work in order to transport him from point A to point B. Travel on modern planes and cars was too safe. Technology made traveling less dangerous, even as it distilled out every bit of thrill and glamour; airplane trips, once a special occasion, were now as mundane and sanitized as getting on a city bus. But this was real travel. The only difference between this Equestrian train and that one was the addition of windows. No icy blasts reached the passengers, who were defended by a wood-burning stove and by the lap robes the porters provided.

Rarity, in typical Rarity fashion, declared the proffered robes 'uncouth' and 'covered in smelly old hay'. She brought her own.

The train labored up a steep grade. Stately pines and spruces lined both sides of the roadbed, and where the tracks had been cut into the sides of hills and ridges, white rock was exposed in jagged chunks. This was a narrow-gauge line, or the Equestrian equivalent, and the roadbed was shockingly narrow in places; he could have stretched his hand out the window and touched stone.

A sudden jolt tossed Rarity into his lap. The train car bucked like an angry bull and jerked his head so it struck the windowpane. Applejack, across the aisle, clutched the railing. Her Stetson fell to the floor.

"How horrid!" Rarity screeched. "Did we break down?"

"Probably just some snow or ice on the track," said Bryn, as their eyes locked. Blushing, Rarity climbed back into her seat, but clung to him in case of further impacts.

It was indeed a frozen snowbank on the tracks. The locomotive's front ram shattered it before it did any damage, but the larger chunks slipped between the wheels and the roadbed. There was a harsh clank as the caboose, two cars back, settled back onto the rails. Bryn breathed a sigh of relief. Anything larger might have knocked the train free of its rails and caused the whole thing to tumble down the mountainside. On the right was a solid stone wall. On the left was a sheer drop to certain death. He had seen enough western movies to know what happens when a speeding train meets an immovable object, such as an ice flow the size of a house.

Whose brilliant idea was it to build a rail line on a ridge barely wide enough for three ponies to walk side-by-side? He tried not to look out the windows on the left. Instead, he focused on Rarity's mane. Its violet strands sparkled in the late morning sun. He planted several kisses on her scalp and ears and, despite the circumstances, she giggled and leaned closer to him.

The river Rush sparkled at the base of the mountain, thousands of feet below. Tunnels and switchbacks became more frequent as the train navigated the mess of mountains and crags where the Unicorn Range intersected Canterlot Peak. It was an impassable barrier to all but Pegasi and mountain goats and the rail line was the only way in or out of the city, save for a hazardous trail to the south. His ears popped from the elevation change. Eureka had been above six thousand feet in elevation, though, and the thin air did not affect his breathing. Yet.

The train slowed and rounded an overhanging rock formation. As it passed under the ominous weight of stone, Canterlot came into view, still several miles away but very visible from the left window. He could only stare.

When she was five, Serena got a Barbie castle for her birthday. She used to have her friend Erin over and they had so much fun dreaming up complicated princess plots and telling stories… And of course I had to see the fucking thing on the bedside table every morning and trip over it when she left it on the floor. Three feet tall, and lurid pink, and full of Barbies. Why had he thought of that Barbie castle, of all things? The train chugged onward. He marveled at the castle on the mountain, the impossible metropolis that seemed to defy every law of physics and architecture and matter that was ever written. It was just… there, clinging to the top of the tallest peak like a giant glittering spider. The division between mountain and city was very hard to make out. Both pleasing and mystifying to his eyes, Canterlot's spires and high rises either generated light or reflected it. It might have been a trick of the light or the very stone from which it was built, but hues of pink and gray and soft blue emanated from every surface as if the entire thing was carved of crystal.

The pink hues had brought to mind that Barbie castle. Canterlot was a Barbie castle standing two thousand feet tall and elongated into impossible shapes. Spires and arches and buttresses, all seemingly too thin to support their own weight, stabbed at the sky.

Now that the destination was in sight, Bryn could no longer silence his misgivings under the thrill of Equestrian train travel. He stared at Canterlot and felt that familiar shiver at the back of his neck, immediately followed by a tension in his arms and legs and a tightness below his ribcage.

He, a human, was riding a pink train into a pink city full of ponies.

Bryn turned to Rarity. "Are you sure it was the best idea to have me come?" He tried to keep the uncertain quaver out of his voice.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?"

Pegasi flew high overhead. Dozens of them shunted clouds with their hooves, manipulating the light snowfall and winds that scoured the Unicorn Range. He looked up at their distant shapes, then at the unicorn beside him, and when he spoke it was in a much softer tone. "I'm just… the whole city thing, they'll probably stare and call me a freak, and-" Not that the 'freak' insults had bothered him, when he first came to Equestria. He always had a difficult time translating this feeling into words. "I don't do crowds. Even if they're human ones."

Crowds meant stress, and stress brought other things to the table. He wasn't even thinking of agoraphobia, though, when he stared into Rarity's concerned eyes. Her hoof slipped into his. Bryn struggled to marshal his thoughts- holding her hoof had that effect on him- but all he could form into a concrete idea was the feeling of standing on that playground, in elementary school, with the school staring at him after he had just phased. Shame and isolation and otherness. The sickening horror of revealing his most tightly held secret, and the children's faces judging him as something unnatural.

In his worst nightmares, those faces visited him.

Phasing had been on his mind a lot lately during the past week. Since moving in with Rarity, he had done it once. His panicked phase in the forest, to dodge a falling piano, was a necessary mistake. He was already on thin ice because of the fact that he was a human among talking horses. If it became known that he had a strange ability to teleport, he feared that it would extinguish the friendships he had built.

Applejack had finally begun to tolerate his presence. He hadn't seen Rainbow Dash since the night of the party, but he wasn't holding out hope. Twilight still treated him like a scientific experiment of above-average fascination.

And Rarity loved him. Would she love him the same if he told her about his powers? Powers not even he truly understood?

The past two nights he had gone without sleep. He stared at the ceiling, agonizing over secrets he wished he could tell, while Rarity held him close and slumbered peacefully. It was hard to think of such things with the unicorn's body pressed up against his. Secrets could bring people closer together, but more often than not, they only sowed mistrust and pain. With each embrace, it became harder to keep it from Rarity. And now he was on a train car with an uncertain outcome.

He swallowed his tongue. Rarity filled the silence. "It'll be fine, dear. Just keep your hood up and stay close to me and Applejack until we reach the Palace."

With the worst switchbacks and steep grades behind, the train steamed up the gentle curve into Canterlot. The city grew alarmingly large up close. Those slender towers seemed ready to topple at any moment and fall in a multicolored avalanche down the mountainside. Applejack, across the aisle, spoke up. It was the first sound she had made since boarding the train. "Remember the last time we were here?" the farm pony said.

"Hmm…"

"For Cadance's wedding. Just over three months ago, an' so much's different now." She stood and reached up to the luggage rack, where a battered tan travel case sat. "All o' us were together, an' we beat the changelings, an' the Princess got married an' everypony came home happy..."

Expecting more to the thought, Rarity watched her sympathetically. Applejack lifted the suitcase and sat back down. "Let's go meet Twi'. No sense in waitin'."

Applejack did not look over at them once. As the train crept into the station, she remained seated, staring forward and saying nothing. She sat on the right side of the train car. It was the side that faced the platform and the small crowd of ponies assembled for the 10:30 departure. Bryn and Rarity faced a brick wall. They could not see Twilight on the other side, keeping pace with the train. It pulled up to the barrier with a solid clang. Bundled in a thick coat and carrying a saddlebag stuffed with books and scrolls, Twilight trotted through the throng, waving to her friends, of whom Applejack was the only visible member. Applejack didn't notice.

Bryn carried a black duffel with an extra set of clothes. Not knowing how long they would be in Canterlot, he did his best to prepare for all contingencies while using only a single bag. Rarity packed nine, including two for extra hats. Grimacing, he transferred them one by one to his shoulders, until he began to resemble an actual pack horse. Twilight was waiting for them on the platform.

"You made it!" cried the unicorn, running to each of them as they disembarked. "I was so worried…" She clung to Applejack like a life preserver. She did the same to Rarity as the white mare stepped out of the train. When Bryn followed, bringing up the rear, Twilight hesitated, then hugged him too.

It took Bryn by surprise. Twilight's mane smelled like lemon shampoo and something that might have been dusty books. If he had to guess, she had gone at least a day without bathing, and in the harsh lights of the station, her mane was unruly and sleeplessness's dark circles lined her face. She held him tightly for a moment and let go. "I'm glad you came too."

"Are you okay?" Bryn asked.

"We can't talk out in the open. It's not safe. I have a carriage waiting up on the street."

Twilight looked in every direction, as if assassins were hiding in the bright white station to jump out at her. The cold dead breath of the wind swirled around Bryn's feet. He raised his hood as they followed her across the platform. If unfriendly eyes came his way, there was no hiding his size and strange way of walking, even if he was at the center of a trio of ponies. They made their way across the station without incident and climbed into the carriage.

"Back to the Palace, but take the back alleys and side streets," commanded Twilight, before shutting the privacy screen. The coach jerked into motion. Now that she was with her friends, she could reveal her secret, the one she had found in one of Celestia's history books. "There isn't a moment to lose. I've figured it out! I'll show you when we're there. No time now, but- the Princesses- it's happened before- long ago, before the Schism-"

Bewildered, Rarity held a hoof out to stop her, but to no avail. "How could I have been so blind? It was right there!" Twilight nearly shouted. "Right there in front of my muzzle the whole time. The weather and the disappearances and everything else, don't you see? It's all connected!" She waved her foreleg around excitedly, knocking books into the air like scared birds. A feverish light shone in her eyes. Bryn had never seen the lavender mare in this state, but Rarity had, and her friends knew what damage could be done by an out-of-control manic Twilight. It was never pretty. These sorts of moods could alter time and upset the course of stars. The unicorn's mane crackled with static electricity. "Last time, the puzzle had fewer pieces. But now-"

She pounced on a book. "Three thousand years ago… the Windigoes… they weren't acting on their own, they were servants of something worse, a monster! I have to warn Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. I have to, before it's too late! But- I have to see Fluttershy first. If she saw it that night- then it's proof she saw what Starswirl the Bearded saw, thousands of years ago!"

Applejack leaned forward. "Fluttershy?" said the Earth pony. "She's okay?"

"She's recovering in the hospital wing. Rainbow Dash is with her and hasn't left her side for two weeks. I have to talk to her… I have to find out what she saw, what happened to her. Then I'll know for sure."

At the mention of Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, fat tears leaked out of Applejack's eyes. Tears of joy. "Ah thought- Ya sent me the letter, an' ya said that Fluttershy was hurt and maybe dyin', an-"

Twilight reached forward to hug her again. At that, the words began to pour out of Applejack. "Granny Smith's gone, Twi. It happened last night. Her heart stopped, nothing any o' us could've done… it was like she- like she saw somethin' through the window, an' whatever it was, it scared her to death. She'd been actin' weird for weeks…"

The news of another attack, if it was indeed an attack, only hardened the fire in Twilight's eyes. "I'm sorry, Applejack."

"Big Mac's watchin' Applebloom an' the others, an' he's not lettin' any of 'em outside the house until Ah get back. All of us are with ya. Whatever this thing is, it's not gettin' one more pony. Even if Ah have to take it on by my lonesome."

"You're all here," said Twilight, her frame quivering with energy. "And together, we can stop it."

She rummaged through her saddlebags and pulled out a familiar wooden box, a box that surged with elemental power.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: INFERNO

November 1

Canterlot

Scarlet Hope cast a levitation spell on the empty breakfast tray in front of Fluttershy and whisked it away. She was pleased to see that the Pegasus had eaten every morsel, every grain of oats and clover, and her patient was staring at the bowl as if expecting more food to appear. "Is there any more oatmeal?" asked Fluttershy. Her eyelids drooped.

How could anypony resist that smile? The doctor spooned more oatmeal into Fluttershy's bowl. "Remember, one bite at a time and eat it slowly," she chided the bedridden pony. "We don't want too much of a good thing, do we?"

It was a good sign. When the recipient of a Healing Spell woke and began to crave nutrition, it meant the worst was past, and all that remained was to carefully nourish the pony back to full health, so their body could do the rest. Carefully. Healthy meals and gentle exercise, with supervised stretches. Bringing somepony back from death's door was no cakewalk.

Full health was another week away. The doctor was astounded by Fluttershy's rapid recovery, given the extent of her injuries, and the mare recovered a tiny bit of her strength with each meal. But the most important thing was a peaceful environment in which to recover. Peaceful. Not teeming with annoying and inquisitive visitors.

Not in a room that seemed smaller than a broom closet, due to the four extra ponies and one- creature crammed into it.

With a dignified sigh, the unicorn set the tray down in the rack to be sterilized. She straightened her instruments irritably. Celestia! These visitors- the purple one in particular- were straining her nerves.

That purple unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, frolicked around the room. "I have almost all the pieces," she said, holding a notebook and quill aloft with her magic. "I only need to make sure of one thing, and that's what you saw the night you were attacked, Fluttershy."

"It's… all a blur." Fluttershy shifted in bed. Morning sunlight filtered through half-open shutters, although the sky itself had grown hazy in the past hours. Rarity and Applejack sat on stools near the door; Rainbow Dash, exhausted from long hours standing vigil at Fluttershy's side, perched on the edge of the bed. Bryn, hood raised and hands concealed in the folds of his cloak, stood in the corner as if attempting to meld his body into the wall. The doctor had dropped her tray upon seeing him. Ashamed of her reaction and the break in her ironclad demeanor, she straightened instruments and avoided looking his way. Most of the ponies in the palace had reacted in the same manner, from the guards at the Palace gates to the minor nobility passing them in the East Corridor. To these ponies he was, in his own words, a freak.

I'll never be anything else, he thought.

Bryn crossed to the window and opened it. There was plenty of fresh air in the room. Opening the window was not necessary, but it gave his hands something to do, and moving to the window allowed him to escape the accusing eyes of the doctor. She stared at him as if Fluttershy's injuries were his fault.

The leaded glass pane swung outward with a creak. He breathed deeply as chill air filtered in. Light breezes tugged at his hair, and he recoiled. Not from the cold, but from the acrid tang. Like… woodsmoke. A lot of it.

Fireplaces or chimneys, probably. Even Barbie fairytale palaces have to be heated with wood, or does the whole fucking thing run on unicorn magic? He sniffed again at the air, thinking it odd that smoke would even reach halfway up the walls of the Palace, far above all the roofs and spires of Canterlot. Would it? The sky was awfully hazy. Maybe there was a forest fire somewhere in the distance.

He shut the window, wishing for a book, a board game, Rarity's fucking knitting projects- anything to do with his hands that didn't involve standing still. The minutes dragged by.

Bryn had never been one that could sit still. Even when eating or relaxing, his mind- and more importantly, his hands- needed something upon which to focus. Music or books were best. Take that something away and he was an alcoholic without a bottle, or a junkie without his fix. Hurry up, Twilight… I don't like it here. It feels wrong.

"What happened before that?" Twilight insisted. She didn't notice Bryn or the window.

"I went looking for Elizabeak," Fluttershy said.

"And what happened then?" Twilight asked, impatiently. She even pulled up a chair, to the very end of the bed, where the emaciated Pegasus was finishing the oatmeal. Fluttershy even found a way to make stuffing one's muzzle with oats and clover and honey look dainty.

"Umm..." Raising a hoof to her forehead, Fluttershy tried to shake off the fatigue. The memories all seemed so fuzzy. Trying to catch them was like bobbing for greased apples. "Well… Elizabeak was missing when I shut the chicken coop. I followed her tracks into the forest. It was so cold, and-"

"-and then something attacked you?" Twilight butted in. She jotted down notes in a notebook.

"And I followed her all the way to this lake." Again she lay down on the pillow and took a deep breath, trying to remember anything about that night. "It was so cold, Twilight. I bundled up in everything I had and it wasn't enough."

"Why didn't you come to one of us for help?" Rainbow Dash exclaimed.

"I-" Fluttershy said. She didn't have a good answer to that one. Why hadn't she called for help? "I don't know. You were in Canterlot, and- you were probably busy," indicating Applejack and Rarity.

Both Twilight and Rainbow Dash had indeed been in Canterlot at the time. Rarity and Applejack weren't, but in truth, calling a friend for help hadn't even crossed her mind.

"So you went out alone, into the Everfree Forest?" Twilight said. Rarity let out a little shriek.

"I had to save her, Twilight. I had to keep her away from him." Fear trickled into Fluttershy's voice. "The black stallion. He's been trying to get me for weeks now and I knew that if I didn't find Elizabeak soon, he'd catch her too. None of my poor little animals were safe…"

Bryn stiffened. Applejack and Rarity were out of their chairs, exchanging a loaded glance.

"The Windigo," Twilight whispered. "Did you see it? Did it look like a pony, but ghostly and shadowy, and colder when you were close to it?"

"Yes," said Fluttershy. "It was there…" She struggled through the rest of her tale. "I followed her tracks to this lake in the middle of the forest. There was a wall, and a ruin, and it was so cold." Words could not convey the chill of standing on that lake, with the Windigo in the shadows, and the jagged hole in the ice where-

She gasped, and remembering the blood, began to cry.

"Elizabeak, she was d- dead!" bawled Fluttershy. "It killed her!"

"Twilight Sparkle, that is quite enough! I will not allow you to interrogate my patient like a criminal!" Scarlet Hope's hoof came down onto the counter with a sharp crack.

"But she-"

"I am afraid I will have to ask you to leave." The unicorn's tone permitted no disagreement. She began to wrestle Twilight toward the door. "You too, Rainbow Dash."

But Fluttershy continued, and leaving was the last thing on anypony's mind.

"Princess Luna came to save me," Fluttershy cried, thin limbs clawing at her blankets, "and the black stallion burned up from her magic, but there was this- this- thing with tentacles and teeth and it hurt the Princess. And then- it grabbed me and I can't-"

There was nothing more to be gained from Fluttershy. She sat bolt upright in bed, half-crazed with remembered terror and pain; the tender chest wounds flared like hot irons, reminders of her dance with death. Whimpering, she collapsed. The doctor pointed at Twilight, then at the door. "OUTSIDE."

"C'mon, Twi'. We shouldn't get in the way."

Twilight reluctantly allowed herself to be led from the medical ward. Her friends looked at her as if she might charge back in and spar with the physician. Bryn slunk along behind. "Did ya have ta terrify her like that?" Applejack said, when the door had swung shut.

"Poor Fluttershy," said Rarity.

Twilight's face glowed. "I knew it! We have to tell Princess Celestia. I'm certain that what attacked Fluttershy was a Ravana."

"A- what now?" said Applejack.

"A Ravana. An ancient evil that long ago was thrown into Tartarus. It's in three of the books that I found in Princess Celestia's personal library, the books that she didn't even let me see until just recently. It's like a nine-headed Hydra with a manticore's bad temper and the strength of ten manticores." Twilight, in frustration, slapped a hoof against her forehead. "Nothing else makes sense!"

She trotted quickly as she talked. The others struggled to keep up with her, twelve hooves and two feet making an awful racket on the stones. Twilight was leading them toward the stairway they had just climbed; again, she was taking charge as only she could.

"The Windigoes- I'm sure that the black stallion Fluttershy was afraid of was just a Windigo- were in service to the Ravana. It has powerful dark magic and can bend the weather and the elements to its will."

"Those horrid winter monsters that we were running from, in the Hearth's Warming Eve play?" Rarity interjected. "Why would-"

"They become Windigoes by- by-" Twilight had difficulty voicing the horror of the Windigoes, the truth that Celestia's books had shown her, the truth she had concealed from Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash.

This was no Canterlot stage and the monsters were not mere painted wooden props, held up by pulleys and wire. This evil was real. Windigoes walked Equestrian lands again for the first time in thousands of years. Ignoring their threat would not invalidate their existence. She gulped and swallowed her revulsion. "By eating the flesh of another pony."

Rarity shrieked. Applejack looked more queasy than angry. Why cover up unpleasant facts with oats and sugar cubes, especially now? "Once a pony has become a Windigo, they can only feed on- ponies- and they can leech a pony's lifeforce with Dark frost magic. Their curse makes them into abominations, many times stronger and faster th an ordinary ponies. Only the magic of friendship can defeat them. The Ravana… was their master, their creator, and sent them into battle against the first ponies, in the dawn of time. And we have to stop it. Somehow."

Twilight, for her part, felt only determination. No fear. Was this how Celestia felt when she donned her armor and flew into battle, becoming one with the power of the Sun? Her whole body aglow and stretched taut like a bowstring, burning away all fatigue and hesitation? A Ravana was attacking Equestria. It was, according to her research, the most evil creature ever to walk the land. She should have been terrified.

But she wasn't. The ponies standing with her, and the jeweled tiara on her brow, might have had something to do with it.

"I couldn't find much more than that about the Ravana. Celestia might know more, because in the stories, it was the first alicorn king, Theren, who defeated it, and he and his Exalted Guardians banished it to the void beneath Tartarus. It's also mentioned in a bestiary from before the Schism… 'Where the Ravana slithers, death follows on swift fangs.' If we want to stop it, we'll need the Elements and the Princesses on our side.

"Which is why we should wear them at all times, and never take them off until we've stopped the Ravana," Twilight continued. The glittering golden tiara, with its violet gem, already rested on her brow. She had passed out the other Elements of Harmony on the way to the palace… except two. Fluttershy was unable to wear hers just yet. Her Element, for safekeeping, sat in its box, and Twilight was praying Fluttershy would recover in time. What would she do if Fluttershy couldn't take up the mantle of the sixth Element? Furthermore, what about Pinkie? Her Element also sat in the box and its owner might never wield its power again.

The magic of Harmony needed every piece in order to work to its full potential. Lose just one, and the Elements became little more than pretty jewelry.

"I think that was what chased me in the forest," said Bryn. All of them stopped dead on the stairs.

"It chased you?" gasped Rarity.

"The day I came to Equestria."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Twilight asked. "If you had known it was a Ravana…"

"How could he know it's a- what-the-hay, Ravana, if he's never seen one before?" Applejack said.

Applejack's standing up for me now? "Whatever brought me here, it- it set me down in this field south of Ponyville. I could see the town, and so I went through the forest to get there. It wasn't a long walk but something… chased me in the forest, something big. I could hear it. I outran it and it didn't follow me once I was out of the trees."

"The night I first saw you, sweetie." Rarity moved closer to him.

The farm pony snorted. Applejack might be on his side, but he would have to look elsewhere for starry-eyed approval of his relationship with Rarity.

"I bet it was the same monster, though," he finished, looking at Twilight. "What else could it be?"

"We have to tell the Princess. Now. We can't waste another minute, or somepony else could die!"

Then, as they descended the final set of stairs, the Bells began to ring.

The Bells. Most Canterlot residents were aware of the Bells' existence, much like they were aware of the Grand Galloping Gala or of Celestia's solid gold throne. They were, like the streetlamps, uniquely Canterlot, but possessing an awe-inspiring mysticism that demanded to be spoken of in hushed tones.

Ask any pony on the street about the Bells and he might tell you, in a clipped and refined accent, to kindly step back, and try not to splash mud all over my waistcoat, thank you. But if he was in a loquacious mood and could spare the time to speak to somepony beneath his social standing, he would point a manicured hoof in the general direction of the Palace and say, with childlike wonder, "I was only a young colt when I heard the Bells for the first time, and they haven't sounded since." Because the Canterlot Bells were the sort of thing that no pony could forget.

It had indeed been years since the last ringing. Most young ponies had not been born when they rang for Princess Cadance's birth in 1372. The birth of an alicorn- a rarity among rarities, as the old bloodlines were extinct in all but the most pure noble families- was an occasion worthy of their use. Twilight was born eight years later. But Cadance was a double rarity, being the first female alicorn since Aurora, in the year 191. That particular alicorn had fallen to a dragon's fire and was no more than a chapter in fillies' history books to most, but she was Celestia's daughter, the result of a dalliance with one of her attendants; illegitimate or not, she was next in line for the crown in the case of Celestia's death, since Luna was indisposed on the Moon at the time. Aurora was the only known descendant of the royal sisters and the Sun and Moon Thrones had no direct living heirs. Therefore, alicorns like Aurora and Cadance were groomed as potential successors and given a life most ponies could only dream of.

Had Aurora heard the Bells, when she still lived, in the tumultuous early years following the Schism and Luna's exile? No doubt she had. Crises were much more common in those days. For the Bells, hung from the tallest spires of the Palace, also rang when the city was in danger. They rang during the worst of the Griffon Wars, and the third Dragon Incursion. They rang whenever Canterlot was threatened. Each was twenty feet from tip to opening and cast of solid ancient bronze. Strike a nine-hundred-pound iron weight against a bell like that, and the mountain itself would tremble.

Twilight froze. All of them did. The first Bell tolled like the bellow of some monstrous subterranean beast, deep and resonant and terrifying. Five seconds later, on the summit of the West Tower, its twin began to sing.

"The Bells…" Twilight said.

Both Bells took up the call. Boom- BOOM… Boom- BOOM… Boom-BOOM… They rang like thunder, at a frequency that shook the Palace.

"What's happenin'?" Applejack said.

"We have to get to Celestia! We have to warn her!" screamed Twilight. The others could barely hear her. They bolted down the stairs behind her, straining to keep up. Rainbow Dash unfurled her wings and flew above them. Abandoning all decorum, they burst through doors and narrowly avoided Palace servants, who looked as terrified as they did. One dropped her tea tray and simply turned flank and bolted, and another took cover beneath a table.

"Princess!" Twilight called, as they entered the throne room. The roar of the Bells swallowed her voice. But the Sun Throne sat empty. Or- was it empty? A black shape lounged in it, one limb draped over the legrest. The pony sipped at a glass of Marelot.

"Where's Princess Celestia?" Twilight demanded. "Who are you? Why are you in her throne?"

"Ah. Well, my little ponies, I am afraid the Princess just departed, on a sensitive defense mission. Technically I'm not allowed to sit in the throne, but-" he heaved a huge, dramatic sigh- "who could resist a little… roleplay?"

"This is Princess Celestia's student," Applejack bellowed. "Just who in the buck do ya think ya are, speakin' to her like that?"

"Nebula Streak, at your service."

"Well, Nebula Streak, we're lookin' for the Princess and it's important!"

He brushed aside his sleek orange-streaked mane, as if swatting away an insect. "I daresay all of Canterlot is looking for their Princess right now, or soon will be. Not that they'll find her, of course. I am in charge of all matters of state until she returns."

If Celestia is away, and the other alicorns are needed to defend Equestria as well as the Captain of the Guards, then the next in line to assume responsibility is- Realization dawned on Twilight's face. "You're…"

"Our dear Princess's royal spymaster, yes. A pleasure."

Twilight had never met Nebula Streak- if that was his real name- and much like Canterlot's Bells, Celestia's intelligence network was another thing shrouded in mystery and spoken of in whispers. Whatever she had imagined the Princess's chief operative to look like, it wasn't this Pegasus, this willowy, androgynous stallion with the sleekest coat and mane Twilight had ever seen, even outshining Rarity's. His voice was musical and coquettish. He looked as ill-suited to sit on a throne as Scootaloo, but… there was something about his eyes, a ruthless willpower. Fire concealed behind silk curtains.

"But…" Nebula's aquamarine eyes were mesmerizing. She stilled her beating heart. "But why have the Bells been rung?"

"Hmm, well, the four dragons quickly approaching Canterlot might have something to do with that. I would recommend that you stay in the safety of the Palace. Pity if something happened to any of you, or to those lovely necklaces."

He stared into Twilight's soul, and winked.

He knows about the Elements!

"We have to help the Princess defeat the dragons!" Rainbow Dash said. Applejack grunted her agreement. Even Rarity drew herself up to her full height, as if the dragon would manifest in the throne room at any moment.

Twilight shook her head, ignoring Nebula's searching glances. "Just tell us where she is. Besides the dragons…" Twilight paused, wondering for a split second if it was wise to trust Princess Celestia's spymaster with her discovery. She decided to invite him into her confidences. "There's a monster on the loose, and I know what it is and how to stop it. I have to warn her. We have to warn her."

"My, my, today is getting exciting."

"Please… where is the Princess?"

"If you are that eager to fry in dragonfire, just follow the trail of screams. You'll find her." Nebula Streak's voice had the tiniest tremor of grief, as if he was sorry that Twilight and her friends might perish, from the dragons or otherwise. It was marvelous acting. Or it might have even been sincere.

---

The dragons closed in.

Flying in tightly wound but chaotic circles, they belched gouts of flame at the Cloudsdale Plains. The defenseless hills and valleys went up like kindling. Long bereft of new growth, and desiccated by the icy winds that had scoured them for the past two months, the ridges burned as the dry grass and brush drank the dragonfire and vomited out smoke. Cloudsdale was blotted out by darkness. The smoke and reek carried even as far as the north face of Canterlot Peak.

And, like moths drawn to a candle, the dragons closed in on Canterlot.

They moved quickly on the wind. At four or five miles away they looked like toys; Celestia wished she could pluck them from the sky and crush them between her hooves. Instead, they were likely to crush her.

She turned to the pony next to her. "You know what to do, Commander Shining Armor."

"Yes, your Majesty." He bowed and vaulted down from the watchtower with surprising agility for such a heavily armored pony, holding on to the ladder with his forelegs and free-sliding to the bottom. It was a long drop. "Guard, atten-TION!" he bellowed. Two hundred armed and armored Guards waited in the courtyard below. They jumped at their officer's command.

"You know the drill! Pegasus soldiers, with your Princess! Hornwood bows and black arrows! Defend her with your lives!"

Fifty Pegasi, in lighter armor than their earth pony and unicorn cousins, stretched their wings and attacked the air. They flew in pairs to the weapon stations and strapped on flank-mounted quivers of arrows. Bows affixed to their backs, they formed up around Celestia, who descended from the watchtower in a more dignified manner. Shining Armor slipped his plumed helmet and cinched the straps. "Earth ponies, arm up and defend the Palace at all costs! Unicorns, with me!"

The Palace armory and training grounds swarmed with hurrying stallions. The earth ponies seized six-foot axes and broadswords, wicked blades sharpened and polished to a mirror shine. The unicorns needed no steel to defend themselves. Only two hundred, Celestia thought. And fifty Pegasi and me, against four dragons.

The two hundred were her entire Guard. Never before had she worried that two hundred was too small a force. Luna keeps three hundred. "Commander, we need every able-bodied pony in this fight. Send word to the off-duty commander of the Night Guard. Those who are rested are to defend this city. And send a runner to the Wonderbolts… we may need them in this fight as well, if it comes to that."

Shining Armor delegated the task to his swiftest runners. "Find Commander Darkmane. Tell him to send everything. And don't let his- er, size- intimidate you." A small part of him was glad that he was not the one to rouse Luna's commander from slumber. The gigantic stallion was known to be ill-tempered. It fell to the poor privates to bear the brunt of his rage, made worse by lack of sleep. The Wonderbolts, of course, would rise to the occasion as they always did. It was simply a matter of getting word to them fast enough. They were glorified show ponies; their days as a military force and as protection to the Princesses were hundreds of years in the past, but they remained Equestria's finest fliers. No dragon was a match for their speed.

Regardless, Celestia had to succeed with the forces she had at hoof. She hoped they would be sufficient.

High above the courtyard, the Bells continued to toll. Celestia addressed the Pegasi in formation around her. "Many of you were with me in the defense of Manehatten. You know what we face. Whatever happens, Canterlot must not fall! FLY WITH ME!"

Her Royal Canterlot Voice was, in cases like these, a wonderful morale booster.

Fifty ponies and one alicorn rode to war. Their wings beat like drums. On the ground, Shining Armor led the unicorns to strategic points within the city walls, where they would use their magic to shield Canterlot citizens from falling debris and other damage. They also served to reassure the citizenry that their Princess was in fact doing something to prevent their imminent doom. The Earth ponies' responsibility, meanwhile, was Palace security. They were too small a force to police the city- the Canterlot cops would provide crowd control- but they were a last line of defense for the Palace if all other battle lines collapsed. They could aid the police as well if, stars forbid, chaos and rioting got out of control.

And another alicorn would join the fight. In a support role, of course. Princess Cadance was airborne and in route from Vanhoover.

As Celestia flew into the maelstrom of smoke, she wished for her sister.

Even alicorn magic wasn't strong enough to transmit messages telepathically. She could send a physical message, but the spell needed a magical delivery system (such as a willing young dragon). But she tapped into the one thing stronger than magic- love.

Dear Luna, if you can hear me, I need your help. I need your strength and your battle wisdom and your power. I never meant to wound you… we have our squabbles and shouting matches but, in the end, all we have is each other. My sister, hear me in my hour of need.

Five miles is nothing when you are flying at top speed. The dragons grew larger and larger; through the slit in her golden battle helmet, she could now see the spines on their backs and the razor-sharp larger ones on their tails. Another few moments and she could hear their screeches. Another few moments after that, and the infernal heat of their destruction began to overwhelm the subzero winds that knifed through her armor.

Her breath had frozen to the inside of her helmet. Now it was melting away.

I love you, Luna.

I love you, Twilight Sparkle.

If I fall in the battle… Sister, if I fall, please tell Twilight-

And then the dragons were upon them. Her blood burned like a furnace in her veins. The Princess of Equestria flew arrow-straight into hell."FORM UP BEHIND ME! ARROW PATTERN, SHOOT FOR THE EYES AND THE BELLY!" Celestia screamed.

Because everypony should know, Celestia thought, that a dragon's weakest point is its eye. Unarmored and an easy kill if you are skilled and lucky enough to hit it. Failing that, shoot for the belly, where the armor is weaker, and a lucky arrow might slip between two scales.

Most likely, arrows would just bounce off and infuriate the dragons. But at least the Pegasi arrows might distract the dragons from chomping her head off.

The problem with fighting dragons is, first, that the battles often take place hundreds or thousands of feet above the ground. Earth ponies and unicorns were therefore useless in dragon battles, where otherwise their talents would have come in handy. A landbound dragon is no challenge at all; just gather twenty earth stallions and have them beat the thing to death with axes and mauls, while unicorns deflect its fire. But dragons are at home in the air. They can twist and turn and bring all their natural weapons to bear at once.

And there is the second problem with fighting dragons. The cursed things are all weapon. Find a way to somehow avoid the claws and teeth and spines and bladed tail, and you still get roasted to death.

They were four black dragons, three males and one female, and the leading male, the one roaring like a demon and stretching its gaping maw toward her, had to be at least ninety feet from crest to tail, with a wingspan that could cover three houses. The other two were nearly as large. I have never seen one so big. Look at his wings… they are twenty times the size of mine.

Black dragons were native to the Frozen North, in the lands of everlasting ice, even further north than the long-lost Crystal Empire. They were the kings of the dragon species. Theirs was the toughest armor and hottest fire. Never seen in the annual dragon migrations, they preyed on anything from griffons to sea monsters to other dragons. And now four of them were here. The group of beasts attacked the ground from four hundred feet up, burning a little more of the world with each fiery exhalation.

And I will smite them from the sky.

With a grim smile, she reasoned that a dragon of his size could hardly be as maneuverable as his smaller brothers. She feinted left to avoid his fireball, dipped right and blasted his face with a bolt of magic.

But somehow, for all his great bulk, he was faster. Celestia was surprised to see the dragon shrug off the brunt of her attack and simply whip his tail up to meet her instead. Only a last-second dodge saved her from impalement.

Now it is truly beginning.

"STAY TOGETHER!"

The air reverberated with the dragons' roars. The battle was so pitched and rapid that she could not track the four dragons and her fifty Pegasi at once. No pony could. The two largest males tracked her; Celestia was forced to divide her attention between them, to dodge and pirouette and loop and cast spells with furious speed, so much so that it was difficult to determine which direction was up and which was down. Ponies and dragons were snarled into a tightly woven web of death. Arrows zipped and fire sizzled. They flew so close to the ground that the smoke and burning devastation nearly choked them all to death.

The soldiers focused on the smallest and most nimble dragon first, as they had been trained to do. Two Pegasi lagged behind some of their fellows in a valiant effort to lead the female away from the main formation. It worked- to a point. They passed too close to her slashing claws. Realizing their error, they dropped down, and the dragon craned her neck toward them, daintily, like a heron dipping her beak into a stream. She picked the closer of the two from the air. He shrieked, once, before he vanished in a spray of blood and teeth and shattered metal.

His name was Swiftwing. It was his first year in the Guard. His sacrifice let the other group loop around and focus their full fire on the female's abdomen. Celestia's heart ached at his death.

But Shining Armor had instructed his Guards well. Swiftwing bought an opening with his life; ten Pegasi wasted no time in encircling the female, and while she snapped and slashed, going for the lead ponies, the others flew below her, pumping arrow after arrow into her sensitive midsection. From the sounds of the dragon's agonized screeches, a few found their mark.

The Princess seized the opportunity and did a barrel roll, coming so close to one of the other dragons that she could kick at his wing joints. She summoned a Shield Spell and tweaked it to reflect the female's fire straight back at her. Celestia was one with her magic. You dare to bring your fire to Canterlot? BE CONSUMED BY IT! The dragon took a mortal shot. Quickly pincushioned with arrows and her eyesockets burned by a focused blast of her own hellfire, she fell three hundred feet to the plain. The Pegasi cheered; a moment later, the third male- the mate of the deceased beast- caught six of them with his white-hot flame.

Luna, if you are waiting for the opportune moment, this is it…

The two smaller males spewed death from their mouths. While Celestia blasted away at the leader, her soldiers were massacred. Ponies fell like shooting stars. A minute might have passed, or two hours. Time didn't matter when a single wrong move meant instant death. She tried again and again to get within the massive dragon's defenses, but each time he was there, meeting her attacks with claw and fang and fire. She dodged each one. Her wings ached from the rapid reversals of earth and sky. Then the other dragon swooped in, nearly barbecuing her with a jet of flames, and his claws whipped up. She felt the tips rake against her chestplate. Mercifully, the armor held. Now she had two of them to face. Alone and equally matched with her opponents, Princess Celestia danced with oblivion.

"PRINCESS!" cried a female voice. Twin streaks of light soared straight at the monster dragon; the beast's massive head tried to track them, but they snap-rolled and dodged in perfect formation, nearly too fast to see. Celestia flew into the window the newcomers had bought her and took careful aim. She channeled an inferno of sunfire through her horn. It caught the dragon square in the face; its sensitive eyes burned and melted, its cranial armor cracked and bleeding, the majestic reptile began to fall.

The body smote the ruined fields, burning in its own fire. Two dragons were out of the fight.

"Glad to help, Princess." A fire-maned Pegasus in blue armor zoomed up and saluted.

"Captain Spitfire. I commend your timing." The mare wasted no time in engaging the next dragon, buying precious seconds for the remaining Guards to form up and loose the last of their arrows at it. Celestia paused for a moment to admire them. The Wonderbolts flew like light given form, silver streaks tracing across the sky from their passing. Like twins, Spitfire and Fleetfoot soared side by side with mere inches between their wingtips. They climbed like rockets.

And these were the same ponies that signed autographs and pigged out on apple pie at the Grand Galloping Gala?

A terrible snarling wail tore at Celestia's eardrums… and the larger male, the one who had flash-fried fifteen of Celestia's soldiers, folded his wings and gathered speed. He struck two more ponies as he accelerated with the force of an express train, crunching their bones beneath his massive talons.

Celestia's blood froze. He's flying to the City!

She scanned the sky for one of the sergeants, so she could order her forces to remain with the smaller dragon. Both of them had fallen. The Pegasi still in the fight were all privates. She called to the nearest one, "Soldier!"

He was a tan Pegasus with a bright blue mane. "Flash Sentry, your Highness."

"You have command… have all forces concentrate on that one! I have to stop the other from reaching Canterlot!" With horror, she realized that the ebb and flow of the battle had somehow carried all of them much closer to the Peak, and higher into the air.

And that is the third difficulty when fighting dragons, especially when single-hoofedly engaging more than one dragon. The chaos is nearly impossible to control. It is not a simple matter of pieces on a board, a flat war table with moves and countermoves and easily quantified danger. It is a nightmare rendered in three dimensions. A nightmare played at four times the speed of normal life. A dragon is never easily herded into a location favorable to you; besides, each of your actions might carry you far away from where you started, or worse, disorient you so that you lose track of your surroundings. And what then? Chaos. Death. Ruin.

In engaging two dragons, Celestia had lost track of her surroundings. It was the mistake of an overconfident rookie, not the ruler of Equestria.

The battle continued. The Wonderbolts were incredible. Spitfire and Fleetfoot taunted one of the remaining creatures, flitting in and out of reach, while the Guards, under Flash Sentry's quick orders, expended their last arrows. The Wonderbolts' daring had given them the time they needed. Spitfire screamed a war cry and darted within the dragon's danger area, delivering a powerful kick to its cranium. The dragon roared and thrashed, its tail turning an unfortunate Pegasus to pulp even as Fleetfoot followed Spitfire's example and struck full-force at its spine, and it was now only a matter of time, time for the arrows to do their work, time for the thick blood to seep from the wounds and leech the mighty reptile of its strength. This dragon's destruction would soon be at an end.

Celestia, alone in the smoking sky, chased the other. For the first time during the fight she had a moment to think.

The last black dragon sighting was in 904 ACL. Fifteen hundred years ago. Why have four of them left their home in the Frozen North to attack Equestria now? What has inflamed their blood to battle?

Her own thoughts answered her. But the voice in her mind was not hers.

You know the reason, Sister. Only one dark power was ever strong enough to bend dragons to its will. The terror that nearly ended my life in the Everfree Forest. You know what we must do.

"Luna?"

Yes. I am with you, even though I am still too weak for battle. You carry my strength and your own.

How was Luna speaking directly to her, as if the younger alicorn's muzzle was inches from her ear?

As if reading her thoughts, Luna spoke with a tinge of wry sarcasm. My magic can touch more than just the world of dreams. I can use our bond to speak to you even in the waking world. Fly, Sister. Defend our City. When you have struck down the enemy, meet me in my chambers. It is time that this bad blood between us is ended. I love you, Tia.

Tia. Luna used the pet name that her mother had called her as a filly.

Two tears glistened on her cheeks, and were instantly frozen. She urged her wings to beat as they had never beaten before. The dragon was nearly to the city walls. Her horn shone like a miniature sun; she closed the gap between them.

"I love you too, Luna. If I fall, tell Twilight that I loved her more than life itself."

Alicorn and dragon met in the skies above the jewel of Equestria's cities. On the ground below, a unicorn looked to the sky with love and fear in her heart.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Phase

November 1

Canterlot, Diamond Quarter

Twilight Sparkle had owned a set of wooden blocks when she was a filly. Her father, Night Light, had bought them from a specialty toy workshop in Manehatten, packed in a brightly painted metal tin that was easy for small hooves to open and close. The tin was a work of art and the blocks were hand-painted as well, vivid reds, blues, greens: a riot of color, and all in large smooth pieces that fit together solidly.

No piece was smaller than hoof-size. Twilight Velvet, Twilight's namesake, had been worried about her daughter choking on the tiniest ones.

But the elder Twilight's fears were not needed. Even at two, young Twilight Sparkle took to books and reading with gusto; physical toys failed to catch her fancy like adventure stories did, and what parent would be worried about their filly choking to death on books bigger than she was? Still, Twilight loved the blocks more than her other toys, and built entire worlds with them.

She created castles and gardens and multicolor towers that mimicked the high-rises seen from her bedroom window, and loved to invent stories to accompany them. Most of the plots were so elaborate that her parents could never keep up. She loved to build a two-foot-tall replica of the Goldmane Sachs tower, the glass and steel monstrosity in Canterlot's Diamond Quarter, and the centerpiece at the heart of Equestrian money and commerce. Night Light would often joke that his only offspring was destined for a career in investment banking.

Aside from encouraging a love of clean Modernist architecture- the tower was one of several buildings raised in the early 1320s that clashed with Canterlot's classical styles- the blocks were invaluable tools when her prodigious magical talents began to manifest. All unicorns' magic displayed at very early ages. By three, she was levitating the blocks with magic; by four, she was levitating the furniture.

By five, she was deemed the most promising young unicorn in her primary school, and Princess Celestia took her under her wing three months after her sixth birthday. The rest was history.

"WATCH OUT, TWILIGHT!"

The real Goldmane Sachs tower shuddered. A fireball, roughly the size of a Ponyville house, struck near its base. Glass and gigantic chunks of masonry rained down, as if she was back in her foalhood home and her clumsy hoof had knocked over some blocks. Very large blocks.

High above, the Princess of the Day fought an eighty-foot black dragon. The dragon had laid claim to Canterlot. It swooped low over the buildings, vomiting fireballs, and several buildings had already went up in flames or buckled from the impact of claw and fang, for the dragon used all of its weaponry on the City. Underneath the dragon's roars and the distant popping flashes of Celestia's spells, Twilight could hear screams and falling debris.

Princess… I want to help more than anything in the world. But she was stuck on the ground. She would have given anything for a pair of wings.

Princess Celestia evidently couldn't turn the dragon away from its flight pattern or deflect its devastation. The dragon was enormous, like a spiked black cloud blotting out the sunlight every time it passed by. And it was furious. The air vibrated with magic and death.

The stench of dragon- sulfur, smoke and a faintly reptilian funk- clogged the ponies' nostrils. It lay over Canterlot as a dense miasma.

Twilight stared trancelike at the sky, her heart breaking. She couldn't help her Princess, her teacher, her friend, her lover, when she needed it most.

"Twi', for the last time, it ain't safe out here!" said Applejack.

"She's right," Rarity put in. "We should stay indoors where it's safe and let Princess Celestia take care of it."

"Ah mean, Ah'm not stayin' inside with that Nebula Streak, but- Rarity's right. An' it's only gettin' worse!"

As pieces of the Goldmane Sachs tower continued to meet the street with great force, Rainbow Dash was the only one who stood with Twilight. "I should help! Look- there's Spitfire and Fleetfoot! They're up there fighting, I'm a better flier than they are-"

She was right about the Wonderbolts' presence, although Spitfire would have probably fought her over that second statement. Two of the Wonderbolts had joined the battle. Even nearsighted Twilight could see them keeping close to Celestia, darting around the dragon and dodging its attacks, and trying with mixed success to divert it away from the buildings.

"This ain't the time ta boast, Rainbow-" said Applejack.

"Are you jealous because you can't help take down the dragon and I can?" said Rainbow Dash.

The farm pony had her lasso clutched between her teeth. Moments ago, she had used it to drag a piece of the tower out of the road so the carts laden with water, pulled by police to fight the spreading fires, could pass by; voice muffled by the rope, she growled, "Ah swear, Rainbow, ya wouldn't know common sense if it reached out and bit ya."

"That doesn't even make sense, Applejack," said Rarity.

"I'm going to help her!" Rainbow Dash shouted.

"Didn't you listen to Nebula Streak?" Rarity argued, shouting over Rainbow Dash. "If one of us is killed, how are we supposed to use the Elements to stop the Ravana?"

Rainbow Dash uttered a wordless snarl. "How much more TALKING are we going to do before we actually DO something?"And before anypony could stop her, the Pegasus was airborne in a flash of multicolored light, soaring into the smoky skies and heading straight for the dragon.

"RAINBOW DASH!" Rarity cried. It was too late.

"For the love of Luna, citizen, get indoors! And stay out of the lower districts, it's a bloody riot!"

The gruff voice scared the hide right off Twilight. She had been staring at the sky through the argument; the police officer, a stout and bearded Earth pony in a blue uniform, looked at her like she had lost her marbles.

She jumped. "A- riot? What about the dragon?"

"If I hear one more thing about that bloody dragon-" growled the police pony, stamping his hoof. "Listen, everypony should stay indoors until all this is sorted out. These mobs are spilling all over the city! As if the dragon wasn't enough to worry about!"

As if to add an exclamation mark to his sentence, a group of well-dressed ponies galloped swiftly past them, toward the heart of the Diamond Quarter and its embattled towers, toward the choking smoke and rubble. Both Twilight and Bryn watched them go.

If they were fleeing the dragon, why would they head straight for the dragon's devastation? The beast was concentrating its attacks on the literal summit of the city, at the Palace and its surrounding districts. Celestia and the Wonderbolts were the sole reason why the Palace was unharmed. The lower slopes of the mountain were, for the most part, safe, although the choking smoke was drifting south. If I were trying to get away from a city under siege and a rampaging dragon, I would go for the gates, for the trains or the secret tunnels, thought Twilight. Not here.

Unless they weren't running from the dragon.

This was the first Twilight, or any of the others, had heard about mobs, although it most definitely would not be the last. If all these poor Canterlot ponies get caught between the mob and the dragon-

We have to help them.

---

Five hours earlier

Canterlot Undercity, Level Ten, Dark Sector

"And it's time for things to change!" roared the griffon, his neck feathers puffed up with rage. He punctuated each outburst with a violent downward chop of his leg. His amber eyes, like those of a malevolent eagle, stared daggers at the crowd.

There was a crack as his talon, restlessly flexing, gripped the bottom of the podium too tightly. The board creaked and snapped.

If the ponies gathered in a loose semicircle around his impromptu soapbox noticed, they didn't show it. Perhaps fifty or sixty had stopped in the square to listen to this griffon. He, or somepony working with him, had set up a wooden box upon which he could stand, as well as a platform for a large chunk of glowing crystal, the same crystals naturally found in the mountain that gave so much of the Undercity its unique, otherworldly greenish tinge. Down on Level Ten, the lowest habitable rung of Lower Canterlot, no other lights shone.

"We have to prove to those preening, stuckup, filthy PRINCESSES that commonponies like us can't be ignored!" He stomped his right front talon on the creaking platform. Another board cracked.

"You're not even a bloody pony!" one of the audience members shouted.

"And they ignore us," the griffin continued in a strident voice, as if the pony hadn't spoken, "because they're too busy with their fancy galas and celebrations to care!"

The same pony spoke up, louder this time, loud enough that the griffin could not feign deafness. "Bloody shut up already!"

"Just as they ignore us, you are ignoring the truth-"

"And just because we lost our jobs because of the accident, we're supposed to… what? Overthrow the Princesses?" said a mare. "What good would that do?"

"Overthrow them because they turn a blind eye to horrors like this! They LET it happen! How can they call themselves rulers if they don't care about those they rule?!"

A deep-voiced stallion in the rear of the throng, dressed in soot-stained coveralls and a cap pulled over his eyes, stepped forward. His voice was low and gravelly, like a log being dragged along the bottom of a ditch. "I used ta have a job at that factory. Five o' my friends died when the roof caved in an' the boilers blew, and nopony would've died if some buckin' griffons hadn't been runnin' the place too hard. Griffons like you."

There was a murmur of assent. It was common knowledge that the Canterlot Ironworks had been bought out by a mysterious offshore corporation in 1395. Not everypony knew, though, that the new owners were griffons- or that working conditions steadily worsened after the buyout, or that virtually all of the profits went overseas. Still, the workers were not stupid. More often than not the bosses were griffons or stallions reporting to a griffon, and harsh taskmasters all.

Realizing that the mood of the crowd was volatile, the griffon backpedaled. "I am NOT one of them! I am one of you… like you, I worked the forges and the bellows, a coal hauler for the Ironworks for six years. Before that, Manehatten Allied Steel. All the injustices you've seen, I have seen them too." Which was true. More or less. So what if he had never actually worked the forges? He managed them. In his mind they were the same thing.

"Like fourteen-hour days in a freezing cold warehouse with no time to rest my poor hooves?" said one of the several zebras clustered around the speaker.

"Yeah!"

"It's not fair!"

The zebra's name was Zafrina. She stepped up and looked the griffon in the eye. "But I wouldn't even be here in the Undercity, I wouldn't have had to leave home, leave Hoofrica, if my homeland wasn't under attack by griffon slave traders! I'd die before I would let a filthy barbaric griffon make me do anything! And my foals at home… stuck in a drafty apartment, nopony to provide for them but me, and now I lost my JOB!"

It was wise of the griffon to place his podium on the main road through Ten, east of the docks, where workers riding the lift home would trudge, sore-hoofed, to their apartments. Undercity housing worsened with each level closer to the mountain's core; Eight was almost luxurious compared to the slums and dive bars of Ten, full of the most unfortunate, the drunks and addicts and cutthroats and whorses. By preaching at this spot, he was ensuring his message reached the proper ears, the ears of the most downtrodden and misfortunate. It was a calculated risk but one with a huge potential payoff. The crowd was growing restless. More ponies, zebras, and even one or two of his own species joined the rest.

The crowd was growing restless toward him, though.

"Who can we trust?" Zafrina shouted.

"My mom died in the factory!" screamed a young donkey in the crowd, her voice rising above the din. A stallion scooped the foal up and perched her upon his broad back.

"I say we march on the upper city and let them know that we can't just be crushed underhoof!" one of the zebras said. "Who is with me?"

Zafrina and the other zebras were with her, at least. Their herd instinct was even stronger than ponies' in times of discord. And, like their distant cousins the earth ponies, their rage was difficult to ignite, but terrible once kindled. They stomped their back hooves and roared.

The griffon permitted himself a small smile. The crowd was becoming focused in exactly the way he had hoped, but it was yet to truly become an instrument of change.

It had potential, though.

With just the right push…

"And how do you expect to reach the upper city? The puppet police, just another one of the Princesses' hooves crushing us to the dirt, they will stop you. But if we recruit others… workers from the docks, the lower levels, we can overwhelm them!"

The entire platform buckled.

"Spread the word! Let all of us stand together! We are for the WORKERS! The WORKERS should be responsible for THEMSELVES! Either you are with us, or AGAINST US!"

The crowd roared and he knew that his job was done. His superiors had ordered him to inflame the anger of the common folk. It was simpler than even he had expected. The anger was already there; all he had to do was focus it and provide a target. Others would join. Many already had, filled with something like courage, something found at the bottom of liquor bottles.

"WE MARCH ON THE PALACE!"

And even if the target was the wrong one, even if these downtrodden and furious citizens completely missed the true villains at work- the seeds were already sown, and Canterlot would reap the bitter harvest. Truly, it did not matter whether the fledgling uprising succeeded or failed. His orders were to create division and mistrust and violence. The other griffon operatives spread across the Undercity were doing the same. Soon, the flood of revolt would reach the heights of the mountain, and by then he and any evidence of his presence would be long gone.

The griffon smiled. He had a report to write, and he had to deliver it personally. His contact in Vanhoover would be expecting him. Intelligence officers of the Griffon King didn't like to be kept waiting.

---

Present time

Canterlot, Market District

Bryn's breathing was ragged. The frantic sprint from the Diamond Quarter had left him with a nagging stitch in his chest. The smoke, somehow worse here than higher on the mountain where the devastation was most concentrated, made his eyes water and his throat itch and seize. Snot dribbled down his face.

The chill winds rapidly froze it in place. In the twenty minutes he, Rarity, Applejack, and Twilight had braved the burning streets, he had cracked away frozen snot and ice from his breaths at least twice. Was it ten below? Twenty?

It felt more like twenty. He steadied Rarity as she slipped on hidden ice. She ran just ahead of him, trailing behind several Canterlot police officers in woolen hats and smart blue uniforms. Applejack galloped at his side and Twilight brought up the rear. Rarity's hooves broke through caked ice between the cobblestones with tiny crackling sounds; in the distance, glass windows made similar sounds as they were destroyed by hurled bricks and stones.

"It's madness, I tell you!" the police officer said. "I'll be blowed if I know where these hooligans are coming from…"

"Why-?" said Rarity.

"Looters," Bryn answered. "Waiting until the police are distracted." As they stopped in the center of the lane, a jewelry store on the corner was quickly attacked by four stallions. Glass shattered and the thieves slipped through the windows to return moments later, laden with gems and gold.

"Where's your commander?" Twilight asked the policepony. "Have him fall back and set up a perimeter starting at-"

Another storefront shattered under the assault of hooves and rocks. All along East Emerald Boulevard, from the Market District to the Lower Canterlot gate, angry ponies milled about, bellowing and waving signs and destroying property. Parked carriages were set ablaze not from errant dragonfire, but from blasting spells and torches.

"I haven't seen the lieutenant since this started, Madam! It's bloody chaos, and we're overwhelmed out here! They're coming from the Undercity by the hundreds!"

Indeed, police tried to halt or detain the miscreants, but it was like fighting a tidal wave with bare hooves. One officer was bludgeoned mercilessly by sticks and sign handles; he fell and did not get up again. More poured from the gate; many carried signs upon which crude messages were scrawled in chalk or red ink: DOWN WITH THE PRINCESSES. IMPERIALIST PARASITES. OVERTHROW THE ROYALS. Others bore only curse words or symbols. War raged across sky and ground. Fireballs and crackling bursts of magic mixed pell-mell with the gruff shouts of police. Yard by yard, the outmatched police gave ground against the advancing mob.

"Why are you doing this? Stop at once, in the name of the Princess!"

Twilight's voice rang out. Several of the rioters- mainly grubby and ill-dressed stallions, although plenty of mares as well as zebras, donkeys, mules, and even griffons filled their ranks- looked at her and jeered.

"BUCK THE ROYALS!" "Death to 'em all!" "Torch the bloody palace!" Others flashed vulgar gestures or brayed oaths, explicitly indicating where she could shove her Princess.

"What in the hay's happenin'?" said Applejack. "Is this even real?"

"I guess things work the same way here as they do in my world. There's people that only want to ruin stuff or cause chaos. Once there's no one around to stop them…" Bryn balled his hands into fists. "But what are we going to do? We can't fight them all off."

"We've gotta stop 'em, Twi." Applejack's lasso hissed through the air. "See here, that's private property an' ya ruffians've got no business trashin' it!"

The only response from the advancing crowd were hideous curses.

Bryn, watching the action unfold, wondered why they had left the Palace in the first place. Were not the walls and defenses thickest there? He couldn't know Twilight's mind. Twilight herself did not know it.

Whatever plans she had of warning the city of the danger, or escorting all of Canterlot to the train station, or reinforcing the Guard or the police against the dragon's onslaught, melted away before her desire to see Celestia. It overrode all other obligations. Twilight suddenly felt very foalish. Nebula Streak's warning seemed to taunt her. I should have stayed in the Palace like a good little student, waiting for her salvation to come. Waiting for Celestia to save the day.

The city, for the most part, had already been warned when they heard the Bells ring. The train station was overloaded with desperate ponies fleeing the dragon or the oncoming mobs. For the most part, Canterlot's population was as safe as they could reasonably be, but there was still an entire metropolis to safeguard, empty or otherwise. But how to do it? What remained of the Guard was either in the sky with the Princess or standing at the Palace gates. Twilight was only one mare, small and unnecessary and useless. The City was too large and the chaos too thick for one mare to handle.

Applejack waded into the throng of rioters, her Stetson perched back on her head and her lasso swinging like a halo of light.

Several things happened at once. Two burly zebras, bricks and clubs in hoof, charged at Applejack; the farmer flicked her rope and trussed them in a flash. Rarity, seeing Applejack vanish into a haze of punches and kicks and swinging hooves, cried a dignified battle cry and rushed to the aid of her friend. Above them, the dragon uttered a terrible shriek. The sky shone with fire.

Bryn stood in the street for one more instant as chaos reigned supreme, as Equestria's jewel, its city of light, fell to violence and a dragon's wroth. Then he followed his marefriend into hell.

You're wrong, Nebula Streak. And Twilight, at last seeing her friends in peril, stepped in. Her stunning spell sent a griffon flying just before his spiked club would have smashed into Rarity's face. The two unicorns fought with strategically aimed spells against a mob on which the Princess's name had acted as a potent stimulant; to them, she was an agent of the corrupt Princesses, a mortal enemy.

Bryn and Applejack fought with fist and hoof. This was a fight. An all-out brawl. Punch, dodge, kick, block, counterpunch. Bryn was beset on all sides by angry ponies, some outweighing him by a hundred pounds and some wielding clubs, knives, bricks or even pieces of glass. Bryn was not used to fighting. True, he had various feuds in high school with bullies, but this was the real thing.

The policemen on the street bound together and formed a barricade. So far, the rioters had spread out in a concentrated wave from the Undercity gate, taking over eight or so city blocks. If they could be brought to a standstill, or turned back, the upper levels of Canterlot might still be saved. East Emerald Boulevard led straight up the mountain. If the police's cordon failed, if Twilight and her friends were overrun, they could wreak havoc across the city; the officers, bolstered by a very powerful unicorn and her friends, knew this, and battled all the harder.

Twilight flicked her horn and a screeching machete-wielding griffon was blown off his talons. She ducked a flying brick and cast a Shield Spell on Rarity, just as one of the attacking unicorns sent a blasting curse at her. Knocked off course, the spell ricocheted and blew a storefront to rubble; Bryn leaped into the opening and brought the unicorn low with a single uppercut.

He struck and blocked and dodged. Applejack's sledgehammer back hooves rose and fell in time with his fists. The mob began to give way before Twilight and the tag-team brutality of the human and the Earth pony. They fought on, inch by bloody inch. Bryn took a hoof to the nose. A blade slipped too close and slashed through his cloak, reaching his thigh... He struggled forward. His knuckles were bruised and he spat out blood.

I'm doing something useful, Twilight thought. Channeling such prodigious amounts of magic left her weary, but euphoria burned it away. With a shout, she immobilized six fighters at once, and caused a taxicarriage to go bouncing pell-mell down the street, knocking down ponies like bowling pins. We're doing something useful. We're defending the City.

Given another half-hour, they would have succeeded in driving back the riot. But the dragon put a premature end to it.

They first heard it as an ear-rending shriek. It was as if an express train had lost its brakes at terminal velocity. Then came a burst of color, and a sound like ten thousand cannons being fired at once. Rainbows blew away the clouds and smoke. The black dragon, weary and wounded by arrows and the alicorns' magic, met its match in Rainbow Dash's Sonic Rainboom-powered strike. It fell ignominiously to earth and struck the Market District with the force of a meteor.

Applejack was far enough away to escape the monster's fall, its bulk flattening building and pony alike. Twilight shielded herself. Rarity was directly in its path…

Bryn glimpsed the reptile, flame issuing from its ruined jaws, in her wide blue eyes.

Rarity screamed.

"RARITY!"

The dragon crashed down onto them both. Bryn grasped Rarity around the middle and tossed her out of the way…

…a flash of orange light…

…Like the wave on that fateful day when he was eight… like the fists of a bully… like the howl of bullets… like the sound of a life being snuffed out…

The dragon fell. But he was not under it. He was in the middle of the street, shining like a human-shaped sun. He was light.

"Bryn…" Rarity began.

Dragonfire and ruin and death. All the sounds blurred together. He looked from one confused and terrified and angry pony face to the next. The fighting had stopped; the dragon, thrashing feebly in its death throes, laid its shattered head on the cobblestones and was still.

"That day in the forest-" Rarity began again. "Applejack wasn't seeing things, was she?"

But only Rarity had seen it. None of her friends had. The dragon was much more eye-catching than a momentary flash of auburn light; when the street was full of yells and crashes, one more went unnoticed. He took a deep breath and phased, and was solid again.

He couldn't hear any of it: the cries of the mob as it began to scatter, or the dying beast, or Rarity as she began to cry. Nothing but his own heartbeat.

Princess Celestia touched down. Behind her landed two Wonderbolts, Princess Cadance, and Rainbow Dash.

Magically amplifying her voice, the Princess cried, "CEASE THIS MADNESS!"

After seeing the majesty and power of the alicorn for themselves, much of the mob- some of whom knew the Princess in name only and had never seen her in the flesh- began to reconsider destroying every shop and storefront within range. Others pressed the attack but found themselves frozen; their weapons fell from limp hooves and a magical will much stronger than their own forced them to their knees.

"Princess!" Twilight called. She trotted across the street to join her. Overcome with emotion, Twilight could only speak in disjointed bursts of words. "I was so worried- the dragon- the mob- I can't believe- are you-"

"Later," said Celestia in a firm but comforting tone. Twilight's face fell. "There will be much to discuss, after this is over." This was meant for Twilight's ears alone, as was the hint of a weary smile on Celestia's muzzle.

"Officers, contain the violence as best as you can. Anypony injured may receive treatment at the Palace infirmary. If you require aid rebuilding, or food and shelter while the devastation is healed, I and my sister shall make every possible effort."

A curious thing happened, as Celestia spoke to the assembled crowds, who had stopped rioting; not a single brick or punch was thrown. They listened to her. Old or young, pony or donkey or zebra, they stood enraptured.

"Citizens of Canterlot… You have been deceived. Agents working towards the fall of Equestria have stirred you into pointless conflict. The Crown has and shall always be concerned with the well-being of everypony beneath its influence."

So great was the benevolence of their ruler that many of them forgot why they had brought a fight to Upper Canterlot in the first place, and indeed were firmly on her side after her next words. "The plight of the Undercity has not been forgotten. From this day, the Crown shall personally improve conditions for everypony. Safe working conditions and no foreign taskmasters! Not a single colt or filly in this great Empire should go to bed feeling the pangs of hunger!"

With word and deed the Princess calmed the multitudes. In the following hours, the city was made safe, the injured were welcomed into the Palace, and any hope of a revolution against the alicorns fizzled out nearly as soon as it was birthed.

Several griffons in the audience slunk quietly away, seething. Nopony saw them go.