The death of faith had a sound all its own, and Twilight would have the opportunity to reflect on the echoes of that pain. But in so many ways, that which began to arise from the conference at the moment of transformation... that was far worse.

She just barely heard the start and didn't immediately recognize its true horror, for she had been distracted by the same thing everypony else had just witnessed. But in her case, the process came with slightly more... analysis. For an act of magic had just taken place and so part of her hearing turned inward, listening to the murmurs which arose from the heart of her own mark.

Her breathing just accelerated, and her rib cage is vibrating under the dress. The muscles along her neck are tensed and -- there, her forelegs just bent a little.

She voluntarily accelerated the changes, stopped them at the point where she would be either at the apex of the white loop or close to it. But it was an effort. She's reacting like a pony who just finished their first Running and never learned how to pace themselves to get through it -- no, maybe not that bad, but that still cost her something. It took thaums to make that happen, and --

-- there. That twitch. And the little wince while she's standing still, like she's afraid to move, like she's trying to get centered again...

How much agony would the sped-up transformation have put her through, without the drugs? Enough to potentially kill? And just how powerful was the medication, to keep the visible reaction down to a level which the vast majority of the audience would readily overlook or dismiss?

Whatever the drug was, Twilight was certain it was nightmarishly strong. The sort of thing Fluttershy only used on animal patients as a last resort, and never for long. Concoctions powerful enough to mute the sensations from that level of pain, used for too long, would also silence a life.

"Doctor," an unsteady voice softly called out from the audience, its Canterlot accent implying an extra degree of internal sway, "I don't want you to feel as if I mean to insult you..."

The stallion smiled. "As I recently somewhat more than implied, I feel a degree of questioning at this stage is rather natural. Ask what you need to."

A minor swish of fabric seemed to indicate a nod. "I didn't feel anything just then. I'm still not feeling anything, and I'm straining for it."

"Checking for illusion?" (Twilight imagined a rather abashed nod.) "I don't blame you. However, no such working is in play. In fact, using that kind of spell would drastically limit the duration of any attempt to fool a crowd. Not only would the unicorns among you realize there was an ongoing effect, but that category of workings as a whole tends to be rather complicated. Making one pony look like another is hardly a simple process, and when that pony begins to move -- flap your wings, please..."

She carefully spread them, displaying all of the joints. A gentle breeze began to waft against Twilight's face as the new limbs shifted.

"...keeping all of the small details consistent, such as the shifting of individual feathers -- well, there is a reason the vast majority of casters only use illusions for what amounts to some rather quiet versions of fireworks. There is no illusion present. No spells were worked upon her before she stepped onto the stage, and no magic will be used on her before she departs. This is her miracle."

"But I didn't even sense anything when she..." The swallow was perfectly audible -- as was the slow building of that first sound, rising up from the level of background murmur. "...changed. What kind of magic is --"

"-- new magic," he smoothly interrupted. "Ultimately, it may be possible to develop a feel for her change -- or that part of the process may forever be beyond the reach of the pony sensorium. For my own part, all I can say on that subject is that I've been trying to get a sense of it for a little while now -- and thus far, I have failed. But for other aspects... well, there are certain things I will never be able to register, and every unicorn here can say the same. And so I must ask the pegasi among you to inform their neighbors of reality's true nature..."

He nodded to her, and the wings accelerated.

"Naturally," he continued as her hooves parted from the stage, raising his volume to get past the gasps, "she is new to flying, and so asking for advanced maneuvers within a confined space would be slightly unfair. But the unicorns here can tell that there is no levitation in progress, nopony hiding their field from sight while using it to levitate her -- while the pegasi are aware that this is true flight. The transformation is more than physical, fillies and gentlecolts: it goes to the core of her being. She changes her form and in doing so, changes her magic."

The murmur swelled, began to approach something very close to music.

"Techniques?" a new, excited voice called out: this accent was a Cloudsdale one. "Does she have --"

"-- I could ask her to demonstrate," the stallion smiled, "but I would ask you to remember two things: she has just as little experience with that kind of magic -- and we are indoors. There is only so much anypony should ask for, at least if one intended to leave the room no more disorderly than our grouped presence requires. Still... if our host would agree to, shall we say, a dust devil...?"

"A small one," Quiet steadily said, and Twilight's eyes briefly shut. "Well away from the draperies."

"Very well. If you would...?"

She carefully landed. The wing movements changed, shifting into a new pattern...

Twilight didn't look up. She didn't have to. The faint sensation of wind pulling against her mane, added to the growing note from the audience, told her all she needed to know.

"At a distance?" that Cloudsdale mare gasped. "She's -- Sun and Moon, Doctor, do you have any idea how difficult that is?"

"A slight concept, yes," the stallion replied, now openly beaming. "But I see fabric rustling along the walls, so... enough for now, at least for this category." Her wings slowed, folded against the shoddy dress. "Are the pegasi among you satisfied as to the authenticity of her efforts?"

"I felt her," somepony new just barely managed. "But it was..." The pause felt too long. "...off..."

A small nod. (For her part, she stood stock-still, unable to look at anything or anypony, gaze directed at an empty section of floor, and Twilight watched the muscles around those slightly hazy eyes as they fought for stability.) "I'm not surprised: I noticed something similar in her third aspect. But she is something new in the world, and so has brought a new kind of signature with her."

"Her third..." a stallion voice tried -- and then, in a rush of something more than mere excitement, "Celestia's heated hooves, Doctor, let's see it!"

He looked up at her. "If you're ready?"

She nodded, and Twilight thought about the tightness of the movement. The forced control.

"Then -- once more," he instructed her. "I believe they are more than ready for it."

Blue suffused the visible portion of her coat as a wave of tan rushed through her eyes, dark purple wings involuted just before a cone of something not quite bone rose from her forehead...

This time, there was a little gasp, and a spasm of the newly-altered tail. But the majority of that audience failed to notice it, caught up in the transformation. The only visible reaction came from the stallion at her side, who moved a little closer.

"As some of you may have noticed," he smoothly said, "this is not a casual effort. It takes a deliberate act of will to move between the pony races at this level of speed. She is capable of more than this, but as with her other magics, she has had very little opportunity to practice. As such, I ask for this to be the last such change tonight. But as she has achieved what was requested..."

The unicorn mare was still mostly looking at the floor.

"Again, for those looking for displays of truly spectacular workings, I ask you to consider the time which has passed -- the rather scant amount of it," he went on. "It has been much less than a moon since her manifestation, which means the transformation of theory to practice is an ongoing one. In particular, we have yet to discover her personal trick -- assuming the ability to change races somehow wouldn't qualify." Another smile. "But as our pegasi friends gave the unicorns the truth of what they sensed, that favor shall now be returned. Would somepony care to volunteer as the subject of a basic levitation?"

A clamor of voices, and it took a moment of open bemusement before the stallion picked one. "Yes... yes, you have been part of this for longer than just about anypony. I know how much you have given to the cause and ask that, if only for a moment, you consider it as the price of admission for a rather basic ride at a settled zone's fair." His eyes twinkled -- then briefly turned misty under the weight of memory. "Or the game which so many of us play with our children, while they remain small enough for such joys. As unicorns, we can only grant them a short period of false flight -- but still, to hear their laughter as we bring them a little closer to Sun..."

The dark purple horn ignited, and gold lanced over Twilight's head.

There was a moment of awed silence. And then there was laughter.

"This is what you consider failure, Doctor?" This mare's merriment was now coming from overhead. "To change her race, her magic? This is worth every bit I gave you, every expedition I funded! This is the lives of my grandchildren! To know they can be unicorns, just before they decided that they could be anything...!"

Tan eyes slowly closed, and she had to force them open again.

"This," the stallion quietly said, "is not what she meant to accomplish. It is, in so many ways, a success. It is the ultimate proof that true change does not require the Elements, or the path which Princess Cadance found for herself. We set out to find a new road and in doing so, have found ourselves at an equally new destination. She is not an alicorn. And in that -- among other things -- there is failure. Lower my friend, please."

The murmur should have twisted more than it did: some parts of the music changed, briefly darkened -- but not enough.

Twilight heard hooves contact the floor, saw the golden field wink out.

"Over the years," he quietly told them, "you have given me your assistance. You have done your best to protect me, and stand ready to do more. In return, I can only offer you truth. An attempt was made to create a new path, one for others to follow. And it failed, for she is not an alicorn. She changes, in form and magic -- but she must change. If she does not speed the process to become what she wishes to be at need, then the transformation still proceeds. From my observations, under normal circumstances, she passes through all three races twice per day. And that transformation is a cycle: earth pony to pegasus to unicorn -- and then to earth pony again. Her magic is powerful: I have had some evidence that her raw strength may approach that of the Princesses themselves. But her form is not stable. I learned that change is possible -- but she is unable to stop it. I have not found the answer we have all worked towards, wished for in our heart of hearts during the darkest hours under Moon. There is a new path -- but it does not lead to where we meant to go."

The audience was silent now, and she could not face them. Her eyes closed, forced shut by a different kind of pain.

"There was one chance," he softly said. "Her mark has come. It will not, cannot change. Everything we learned, every theory, all that we did -- it led to failure."

Several ponies were taking audible breaths, and still none of it was enough to drown out the murmur.

"Her mark," somepony said. "What is her mark?"

"Also new," the older stallion replied. "And... animated." His right forehoof almost jerked up, and it still wasn't in time to cut off the babble. "Yes, I know, everypony: we have seen the breaking of any numbers of rules tonight, and I wasn't expecting that one to shatter any more than you were. I will sketch it for you --" silver surrounded a piece of chalk at the blackboard's base "-- but I ask that you accept that sketch as truth. I know, from my own experience, that to see a mark move is not something which an unprepared mind should go through, and everypony here has already been through a sufficient number of shocks. This is the icon..."

The sketch was a rather rough one. It completely failed to capture the twist in the loops and when viewed against the slate, the vacuum at the center was nothing more than a circle.

She didn't look at it. Didn't move. Didn't speak as the stallion explained the movement of the clock. She simply stood upon the stage as the weight of eyes pressed against her fur.

"As far as anypony knew, there was but one chance," the stallion finally repeated. "And we found a new kind of failure. But -- at the same time, there was a degree of success. It has been proven that change is possible. New paths can be forged. We simply need a degree of... refinement. And as for there being but one chance..."

He stopped. Trotted up to her, aligned his body until he was facing the audience again, a mere hoofwidth away from her flanks. The unicorn mare trembled.

"...until a moon ago," the false doctor softly said, "nearly all of Equestria thought it was impossible for a new Princess to arise from the masses. Half a moon, and I would have told you it was impossible for a pony to change her race at will. Two kinds of impossibility have recently entered reality. And as I told you all, after one has seen the impossible, accomplished the impossible... it becomes easy to believe that so much else could be done."

And he was looking at Twilight.

"There was a notable side effect from her first transformation," he told her (and perhaps only her). "To wit --" a small, somewhat wry sort of sigh "-- it set my estate on fire." (The trembling accelerated.) "Yes, everypony: that is what happened. Looking back, I believe it was pegasus magic which had yet to find any degree of control: heat being concentrated along a border to the point where the first flame ignited. And as I was both rather distracted and happen to be a unicorn, I was unable to get it under control. I have told her that she bears no fault or responsibility: neither of us had any way of knowing that would happen, and we both emerged intact. But we did so separately, for she spontaneously teleported away."

The smile was a sincere one, and all the more horrible for it.

"Well..." he considered, "some workings do run in families... But it meant we lost track of each other for a time. Still, destiny smiled upon us: her arrival point was relatively close by, and she eventually came home. But 'eventually' meant time was passing, and all anypony knew was that my home had burned down, that I was missing, and relatively few were aware that there had been two residents..."

He sighed. She twitched.

"One seldom has the opportunity in life to learn just how loved they are," he quietly told them. "Having so many of mine join the search was an education. And the two of mine who bear Elements... the tale reached them, and they asked their friends for help. But they began their search not at the burnout, but in the wild zone -- and in doing so, gained an opportunity. For some of you are meeting my daughter for the first time, others for a second -- but destiny did its best to assist the Great Work through providing a pony who had completed it. For our newest of Princesses, this is the fifth encounter. And as I told you all while she and her companions were being brought to us, she has not told Canterlot of what she discovered. She met a pony in the wild zone, one who was still trying to adjust to her new reality, she asked to meet that pony again and again, and did so for a singular reason: one which is no less than we should expect of her."

And with that, he carefully jumped down from the stage.

The injured leg gave him some trouble on the landing: he stumbled, needed a breath before he could fully orient himself. And then he trotted up to Twilight, stopping a mere four hoofwidths away, orange eyes steady and warm.

She forced herself to look at him, and managed that much.

"Princess Twilight," Doctor Gentle softly stated, "is a new alicorn, born from the Elements -- just as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were, nearly thirteen hundred years ago. In that, she is the impossible. And she also happens to be the current Bearer of Magic. Her raw power is considerable, her understanding of theories well beyond what most ponies will ever accomplish. To talk about magic with her is to gain an education: to dream in concert with her might change the world. And she is a pony of compassion, one who met a stranger, somepony in distress -- and wished only to help."

I told Quiet...

She finally understood why she had been brought to the observation perch. Why she was among the audience. Why they were all there.

This is for us. He's been speaking to us the whole time.

A crash of thunder sounded outside, and fabric hangings shook.

"When the Elements were rediscovered..." the older stallion continued -- then wryly shrugged, just before he smiled again. "I admit, I briefly thought about trying to contact you. It would have been easy enough, with two of the new Bearers being mine." He briefly beamed with pride. "The direct help of Magic... that found itself playing out within my nightscape in less than a moon. But I learned that you were the personal student of the Princess -- and Princess Celestia has her reasons to be cautious when it comes to ponies attempting to ascend. Some of those were born from Star Swirl's actions, and others -- well, over the centuries, there have been more than four hooves trying to forge new paths: let us currently leave it at that. I knew nothing of you beyond what my eldest and most determined had written about, and they were very clear regarding how much you valued the respect of the Princess. I felt that speaking to you would have you talking to her immediately after, and -- I suspected her reaction would be less than kind. So ultimately, I kept my distance. But now I know what kind of pony you are, Princess Twilight. Not only a pony who does the impossible every moon, but a pony who cares."

He briefly glanced back at her, and those eyes were still closed. Back to Twilight.

"Your path was not hers: the Elements are responsible for your change," he went on. "But you are Magic. I have told you about the basics of the path she followed. Given the opportunity for direct consultation with me and uninterrupted magical analysis, you could learn so much more. You could refine the path, find where the errors were, and perhaps -- correct them. For six Elements can create an alicorn. Perhaps they might also complete what was originally meant to be a different means of transformation, or even stabilize my daughter as a unicorn. That power might grant her full control over her changes: the ability to be whatever she needs for as long as she needs it. The possibilities for discovery are endless: I know you can see that. And you would be doing what you told my most devoted that you truly wished to do. You would help. Not just her -- but ultimately, all of the broken."

A partial step back, just enough to let him look at the others -- Rarity silently stared at him, Pinkie's gaze remained on the floor, Rainbow radiated fury, Applejack's bound jaw tensed, and all Fluttershy could see was tear-soaked cloth -- and then his attention returned to Twilight.

"I have shared my pain," he told her. "I have shared it with so many over the years. And at the end of that sharing..."

His horn ignited: a partial corona, soft silver changing the highlights of his fur.

"You are," he continued, "their leader. In this age, Magic leads. They will have questions of their own, and undoubtedly there will be arguments -- but in the end, they will follow your decision."

His field pressed against her muzzle, began to unwind cloth.

"I have shared my pain," he softly repeated, and she saw something new in his eyes: the simple sadness of a stallion who had reached the current limits of his dreams. "And at the end of that sharing... I ask for help."

There was a fresh gaze upon her now: Twilight felt the weight. Not the audience, staring at her from behind: they didn't seem to matter. This was a sad, pained one which came from above, radiating from tan eyes. A desperate stare carrying a silent plea.

"Will you help us?" Doctor Gentle asked. "Will you join our Great Work? Shall we learn what the Elements can do to fix the broken?"

The binding fell away from her jaw. And he waited.

Words echoed in her mind, bounced off the memory of rock crystal.

"The Elements..." she began.

He won't believe me.

She won't.

I don't even know why I believe it, and I do...

His patient gaze moved across her face.

"The Elements won't solve this," Twilight told them all.

He blinked.

"You can't know that," he stated. "Not without experimentation --"

"-- they won't solve it," she broke in, because whatever he was going to do after a refusal would happen whether she was polite about it or not -- and then the rest of the words came. "I swear on Discord's antler that when it comes to her, the Elements would only make things worse!"

He pulled back. Nearly everypony did.

For him, it was only a little distance: half a hoofstep or so. But he pulled back, and it took a deep, visibly steadying breath before he spoke to her again.

"That," he observed, "is a rather unique way of putting it. I have never heard anypony swear on him before. It certainly adds something to the sheer force of an oath. But again, Princess: you don't know --"

"-- I do. I know."

That orange gaze wasn't quite so warm now.

Softly, "How?"

Because he told me it would. And right now, I trust him more than you.

"Of the two of us," Twilight softly asked him, "which one is Magic?"

There was a moment when he could say nothing, and she dearly wished for it to last forever. It didn't.

"I suppose," he finally resumed (and with a faint smile, she hated that smile), "I have to trust that level of authority." (There was more pain radiating from the stage now, and very little of it seemed to be physical.) "But there are other options. If we researched together, with Magic joining my efforts --"

The mission, which had already provided a seemingly-endless series of opportunities for Twilight to hate herself, offered up one more.

He's learned so much. He has some of Star Swirl's original notes and knows where to find a few of the others. He knows the names of the original Bearers, and what the Princesses were before they changed. He could know more about the Elements than I do. He might understand what happened to me. And when it comes to her... how her body has to operate on the deep levels, the way her magic changes...

All the facts he'd acquired. Theories created and advanced, added to a new kind of magic, one which was standing on the stage. A chance to make discoveries which nopony else had ever dreamed of, and that was before she considered what had to be in his own notes, all the observations about what could happen when chaos met essence and they both merged into the shadow of a soul. When it came to so many kinds of magic, he could know more than anypony alive -- but he wasn't Twilight. He didn't have her mark, her instinct for understanding. With the two of them researching together...

She wanted to know. It was a desire which arose from the heart of her mark.

"-- no."

And it taught Twilight how to loathe what had once been the defining aspect of her life.

"You said," he carefully reminded her, "that you wanted to help."

"I want to help her. I would do everything I could to help her. I'll take her to Canterlot, to the Princesses and the Archives. I'll put the best researchers the Gifted School ever produced on this. I'll channel every resource of Equestria I can think of into helping her, and then I'll go beyond the borders. I would do everything I could to help her --"

The next words were nearly spat.

"-- but not you."

He stared at her for a few seconds.

"The Great Work --"

"-- is that the lie you tell yourself?" she asked, and was amazed at the steadiness of her own voice. There seemed to be no fear on the edge of death, even when she knew her own demise would only be the start, not even when an ending was inevitable and there was no point in watching for the sparkle-free glow of that horrible field. "That you're doing something great?" And before he could speak, "I heard you up there. I heard what happened to your spouse, and I'm sorry. I know the word barely means anything: that it doesn't fix things or make them have happened differently. But I heard your pain, and I felt it. Nopony should ever have to go through that. I'm sorry about what happened to Primatura, for her death. You lived through a nightmare and you brought forth a miracle. But she wasn't broken. She was never broken --"

"-- stop it," with his tones beginning to drop. "Princess, you don't know what you're saying --"

"-- until you broke her!"

(And from the stage, there was the smallest of gasps.)

He leaned forward. The dark horn nearly touched the restraint.

She stared directly into his eyes, and failed to see a pony.

"Let her come with us," she asked, already knowing what the answer would be. "Turn over all your notes. Every document you have, everything from --" she almost had to force the name "-- Star Swirl, everything you've written. Do that, and I swear I'll dedicate my life to fixing her. But you --" and now it was a plea "-- Doctor Gentle, you have to stop --"

"-- no. She is my daughter. We go together, or not at all."

She'd known that would be his answer, and the foresight did nothing to dull the pain.

"You won't help," he slowly said. "You told my most devoted --"

"-- not on your terms."

He took a slow breath, and Twilight used the moment to look up, saw the pain and confusion in tan eyes. The betrayal.

"Then will you leave us in peace?" the stallion asked.

Twilight blinked.

"If you won't help her," he went on, "then would you allow me to continue my work? So that I might find some way to stabilize her form, to permanently restore what was stolen from her? We have come so far..."

She was staring at him now. She felt as if she might never blink again and given the probable length of her remaining lifespan, that might just be for lack of opportunity.

"To leave you," she repeated, mostly to see how the insanity would taste on her tongue, "in peace."

"If my life was disrupted," Doctor Gentle softly told her, "by something along the lines of a national hunt, I imagine I would lose my practice. And should I cease my work, Princess... foals will die. You know I have never been able to teach the Exception to another. You were also present at Dawn Sky's birth, and I believe you now recognize what I did. She will have her first flight under Sun, at her mother's side -- because I was there. Because I saved her. Whatever you might think of me, Princess, for whatever reasons you have conjured under Moon, things so harsh as to leave my daughter in pain --"

It was the first time he'd used the word concerning her, and Twilight's ears briefly twisted towards the audience, listening -- but with the exception of the still-present murmur, there was only silence.

"-- you know what I have given to Equestria. Two Bearers, two of your friends, only know time under Sun because of me. Should I tell you the numbers, Princess? How many foals the Exception saves each year, even without the help of the pearls? Foals who will die without me, the first great moment of destiny ending in nothing more than a funeral. Should I stop, hearts stop with me. Hope dies on the birthing table, parents mourn, and not even essence lives on."

and she looks up to find herself surrounded by ash and the remnants of walls and dead foals, dead foals everywhere

"I give life," the stallion told her. "Who are you to say that should end? I know you have yet to find your full title, the thing you can be a Princess of. Does the world require a Princess of death?"

There was a moment when she could no longer see the room, or hear anypony there. Simply blood and screaming mares, desperate voices calling out in prayers which she could never answer. The scent of corpses reached out for her from dream, threatened to pull her into nightmare unending.

But she was already within it.

She could have lied. She could have tried to tell him anything. That she would leave him be, or that she had changed her mind, she would help, and kept that up until the moment opportunity presented itself. There was a chance that he might have even wanted to believe her. But lies always fell apart in the end: perhaps that was something Applejack had taught her unawares. And before that happened, they led to more falsehoods, to secrets and... the lies ponies told themselves.

"I can't."

He silently turned away from her. Trotted down the line, stopping in front of --

"Then I ask for your help, my eldest."

-- Fluttershy.

"I had hoped," he softly told her, "that this would be part of the -- general agreement. But your leader has refused to help the broken --" a slow head shake of self-imposed disbelief "-- and so I must speak with you alone." His field began to work on her gag. "And when it comes to perspective, you have every reason to see things differently. Every sight, every sound, every moment you have existed under Sun and Moon, you owe to the Great Work. To me. I know you care about me, my eldest. I know how much you wish to help those who are hurting: you would not have found your mark without that empathy. And now... now, I need your help, because there is something only you can do."

The gag fell away, with the blindfold remaining in place. The yellow jaw shifted a few times, choked on the first word before it could fully form.

"...what... what do you need me to do?"

He sighed, and smiled at her. A smile she could not see.

"I have read all of your letters," he reminded her. "All of them -- including, perhaps, things which Princess Celestia might not have wished written down. She asked you not to speak of Princess Twilight's change, and you have kept your silence. It does you credit. And without the chance of having all six Elements at work, there is no need to ask you about that any more. But... you wrote of something else. Of a statue in a garden -- one which is no longer there." A pause, one insufficient to remove all of the disbelief from his tones. "Of an entity whom you believe considers you to be a friend."

"...Discord."

It was, Twilight considered, a somewhat familiar sort of shockwave.

He nodded. "You still have doubts. Concerns, worries about manipulation. But he at least acts like a friend, within his limited understanding of the term. Forever pushing the boundaries -- but not so far as to find himself facing the Elements again." Another, shorter pause. "I have what would be considered to be a vast collection of chaos pearls. A quantity likely hide within the ocean, with others in places where nopony could be paid to tread -- but for those which have ever been unearthed, I have every reason to believe I possess the majority. But there are very few left which could be found. And no matter how many I acquire... each can hold but a single charge. I have tried winding them in platinum, and such seems to help in the channeling of their energies, along with maintaining the concealment spells -- but it does not draw in fresh chaos. In all the world, there is but one source of that power, Fluttershy... and even if it lies, it still calls you friend."

"...he... he's still... trying to -- figure everything out..."

"One pearl expended," Doctor Gentle reminded her, "is one life saved. I could show you your pearl, and list every foal it helped bring to Sun. But while there was still a statue in the garden, I could recharge them. Now there is an entity whom Princess Celestia, for reasons known only to herself, allows a degree of freedom. A pearl expended is a life saved -- and a pearl which will never save another. And if the pearls are the solution to her state... then there are only so many we have to use."

"...unless..." No fresh tears were seeping through the saturated cloth. "...I help."

"There is the possibility," the stallion said, "of tricking him. Remember, he knows nothing of what was done: our continued existence is the proof. There are also ancient magics which could be tested, ways to try and draw off some of his power, things which not even the Princesses might remember. Or... he might simply be convinced to donate a portion of strength, by a friend. He might participate willingly, once he was told the purpose was to create a form of change." Smiling, unseen, "Of course, our ultimate purpose is to enforce a new level of order upon the world, one where no sin could ever steal a foal's heritage -- but he hardly needs to know that."

"Heritage," Fluttershy repeated, and the word emerged without hesitation. It also didn't seem to have any real emotion behind it. The utterance was just... there.

"I know how much I'm asking of you," he admitted. "With the Princess having denied me, you would have to leave at least one of your friends. You would need to abandon the cottage. We would be running together, my eldest. But... your passion for saving the lives of animals would find a new direction. You would have the chance to save the lives of ponies. Think about all the foals who would live as you have, who would have their time under Sun --"

"-- no."

She was crying again. Tears ran through tracks of fur which could absorb no more moisture. And her first friend made no move to wipe them away, much less comfort her. He simply stared.

"Fluttershy --"

"-- no."

Her word had been a declaration. His response just barely reached the level of a whisper.

"I gave you your life."

Softly, with no emotion in the words, "...I know what you did."

He looked at her for a few seconds, and it seemed to Twilight as if most of his regard passed through that eldest. And then he turned away, trotting again. He ignored Rarity, visibly dismissed Applejack --

-- stopped.

"Pinkie?" The gag was removed. "I think we would both... appreciate a touch of joy in our lives. It wouldn't be the first time we've traveled together..."

The perfectly straight manefall, cascading about a darkened head which had spent the entire time within the room facing the floor, obscured most of the blank expression while putting a frame on the silence.

There was a new expression on his face, one Twilight hadn't personally seen in years. The disappointment and confusion of a parent who felt he had raised his children to always do the right things, and didn't understand why they wouldn't obey.

"Then we have reached the end of our choices," he softly said. "The Bearers as a whole will not join us, while Kindness forgets her compassion and Laughter falls silent. You leave me with a single option, Princess -- but that was the decision you made..."

And from the far right, a familiar voice finally said what it had been longing to voice. Two words and just that many syllables, utterly predictable in both emergence and source. Twilight had been waiting for that voice since the moment of refusal and for the first time in her life, it did not disappoint her.

"Kill them."

Doctor Gentle's head jerked up.

"Repeat that," he tightly requested, even as a new kind of murmur began to race through the room.

"Kill them," Coordinator ordered. "They know about the Great Work, and they've decided not to become a part of it. They know who was here tonight. They know you, because you appeared without robes or the most basic spell to disguise your voice and as you keep saying, two of them are yours. The only way we all remain free, the only way for the Great Work to continue at all, is if we kill them."

For that was how it had to end, and Twilight had known it at the moment before she had offered rejection. That to say no was to place them all within the shadowlands, for luck always ran out. They had faced down the intangible terrors of Nightmare, the near-infinite strangeness that was Discord, Sombra's twisting, and perhaps there might have been a way to stand against Doctor Gentle's sickness had he been alone -- but Coordinator, who acted merely for the sake of what dark joys might come from it, was simply evil. Twilight had rejected him, and so he would deny them breath and heartbeats. It was the only response he could conceive.

"They wouldn't listen to reason, any level of it," the petty stallion continued, with the self-satisfaction riding openly in his tones. "And so there's just one option left. They're restrained and bound and helpless. It'll take seconds..."

Gentle Arrival looked at the six of them. Not into the audience, where something more than brown and white speckles lurked beneath a robe. At them.

"No."

The fresh murmur became louder.

"It's the only thing which makes any sense," Coordinator argued, his volume increasing enough to get past the new level of background noise -- and then still more. "If you don't want to do it yourself, fine: step aside and let somepony else remove this taint. It's the only way to keep everypony here safe!"

"Safe from Nightmare?" Doctor Gentle steadily asked the room. "Safe from changelings, or whatever might appear within Equestria next? Centuries passed without Bearers: centuries during which Princess Celestia did her best to hold the line on her own, or with the help of the heroes who arose. Heroes who ultimately fell, without Elements to bear them up. The Elements have chosen again, and part of what they chose was the time to reemerge. You might argue that it was simply for Princess Luna's restoration, with all that has happened since as mere coincidence -- but since the Elements have returned, things have been happening. More has happened in a relatively short time than has occurred in decades. There may be more coming, things their magic has foreseen, events which will require the Bearers to stop. I was willing to ask mine to accompany me, for Star Swirl's notes have taught me much -- and one of the things they told me was that at her core, Princess Celestia can be a rather pragmatic sort of mare. Should a crisis come which required six Bearers to combat it, she would allow the reunion of the group: better to accept those falsely seen as criminals than to lose a continent. But to kill -- to reward our saviors for their efforts through sending them into the shadowlands... what kind of pony thinks so much of himself and so little of his nation?"

His spine straightened as his tail lashed and the orange gaze steadied. Became angry.

"I will not see them harmed," he told the room. "I, and my daughter, will stand against any who might try. Are there any who care to test us?"

There were enough of them: Twilight knew that. More than enough unicorns in the group to counter Doctor Gentle's efforts, a sufficient number of bodies to potentially overwhelm her. If they had attacked, as a herd, they would have won.

But that first level of sound had never completely vanished. And so nopony moved.

"You're a fool," Coordinator sneered, and the disdain wasn't enough to conceal the panic. "The Great Work is being led by a --"

"-- the safety of those in attendance," Doctor Gentle cut him off, "has always been my primary concern. Ultimately, there were more than three hundred shielding ponies at the party tonight, not all of whom found the chance to introduce themselves -- with some of that neglect purposeful. The master guest list, in so far as it exists in paperwork, can be made to vanish. For memory, it is known to but three ponies, for nopony else here knows all of the others. And of those three, two are about to disappear."

He began to pace again, with the movements slow and thoughtful.

"The palace," he continued, "can do their best to trace who was here tonight -- but servants forget. The escort network was provided with names other than the true. Ultimately, they will learn a portion of those who were in the halls -- but when it comes to the identities of those in this room, the number they can prove, after the subtraction of the Bearers, can be counted on your hooves. At best, they will suspect a few. But they cannot bring charges based on suspicion, and they cannot watch us all. In terms of permanent loss of status and the need to run, I have risked only those who volunteered for it: Quiet and myself. Those names -- and one other -- are all the Bearers could reliably identify."

A singular west coast accent sounded from the back of the room, just barely managing to carry shaky words towards the stage. "They... they know me! The Princess..."

"Do they?" the older stallion placidly asked.

"...she's -- we've met, I was in Ponyville --" and abruptly stopped.

An angry stallion in front of the library desk, demanding that Twilight fix a device which had nothing wrong with it because the pegasus who ran the repair shop was so clearly unqualified...

"Then I would be rather careful," Doctor Gentle stated, "about reminding her of that. And I will still not allow you to harm her, or anypony else. The realm will not lose its Bearers tonight."

This time, Coordinator yelled. "It doesn't matter if any of them die! If we kill them, the Elements will just choose new Bearers -- !"

The mauve horn ignited: a partial corona only, with the normal complement of sparkles. It was still enough to drive Coordinator into silence.

"They didn't before," Doctor Gentle softly said.

Thunder sounded, shook the draperies, vibrated fur and pressed ears flat against skulls. The echoes took their time before departing.

"I told you," the older stallion stated. "Star Swirl found the path of the Elements closed to him, for the rest of his lifetime. And in his case... an incomplete set. Lose but one, and Harmony breaks. I will not be responsible for a second shattering. And I promise you that anypony who tries to do so while the Bearers are under my protection will reconsider their final choice among the grasses of the shadowlands." A slow head shake. "Even if you care so little about your own nation... do you really think that those six deaths would bring no reaction from the palace? Quiet, my daughter, myself... we can vanish and in time, Canterlot will find itself with more important responsibilities than continuing the search. But to end their lives would be to bring the full wrath of Sun and Moon upon us all, an effort which would only cease when everypony here had been brought to whatever the Princesses might decide was justice. And that is without taking a moment to consider what chaos might do if it lost somepony which it had truly decided to see as a friend. Their lives are more important than yours, perhaps more important than that of anypony here. And so they live -- and you will listen. All of you will listen."

Pacing faster now, with the injured leg beginning to show signs of strain.

"As has recently been pointed out," he told them all, "the Bearers are currently both helpless and harmless, with their sole ally trapped within the castle. They are no threat to us, and so they will be simply be confined. Quiet's castle is an old one -- old enough to have its own cells. We will place them within, remove the remainder of their gags and provide them with feedbags." Some visible thought. "Two to a cell, by race --" and then, with a degree of amusement "-- original race. And while they are confined, the three of us will make preparations for our own departure."

"But we can't keep them confined forever," somepony called out. "Eventually, Canterlot is going to come looking."

He nodded. "An extended absence would eventually do that. However, in this case, we know when rescue is scheduled to arrive. Princess Twilight never contacted Canterlot -- but she did reach out to a friend: a researcher of some skill, somepony who has a rough familiarity with what essence can achieve. That pony will be here in a few days and when she arrives, she will be taken to where the Bearers have been confined. She will free them. The servants will say they were simply following orders, and Quiet can give them in such a way as to leave those who carry them out innocent of all but obedience. Those who were in attendance tonight will have long since returned to their homes, with the memories of their presence already having begun to fade. The escort network will carry you back, as it brought so many here --" a pause "-- well, once you get outside the castle: we are on lockdown, after all. There will likely be an investigation, and it will ultimately fail to place blame on just about anypony other than myself. And as for myself..."

The older stallion stopped trotting. His left foreleg came partially up, hoof angled as if about to contact his muzzle -- then lowered again.

"I will run," he simply stated. "I will not be able to use the network: even with fur dye and aliases, three traveling together, with one so much larger than the majority... we would be remembered, and our initial destination repeated. But three can move quite some distance on hoof, especially with an entire continent to run in and more familiarity with wild zones than most ever gain. Additionally, I do not necessarily intend for us to stay within the borders. But in time, we will reach a place where we can rebuild. We will contact you when we can. Because this stage of the Great Work has failed -- but in that failure, we have found a measure of success. We have found the hope we all sought, and know that the ultimate destination may be closer than ever. You have all helped me to come this far -- but with my efforts exposed, the risk will be greater than ever. And so I ask you all once again: will you help?"

The murmur swelled.

"She's... not the miracle I hoped for, Doctor," the Cloudsdale mare said. "But she's still a miracle. You've done more than I believed possible, more than I thought could ever be done at all. I can't speak for anypony else -- but I'll help you."

"And so will I!" a proud Windicity voice called out.

"And me!"

"And me!"

"And..."

It went on for a while, with the older stallion quietly basking in the acceptance. Not all of them spoke, there was one notable gap in the chorus, and even Twilight felt as if a few were speaking only because they were expected to -- but one by one, they vowed their devotion. And when the herd finally fell silent, Gentle Arrival smiled.

"Thank you," he softly told them. "Thank you for your faith."

Carefully, he climbed back onto the stage, with a shimmer of gold field providing the last boost. And then he was facing them again.

"Should there be an emergency, I may call upon some of you along the way," he said. "But I will always be careful. I will always do my best to protect you, as you have protected me. But when I reach safety, I will let you know where I am -- and in preparation for that day, I have one more request. I may yet find other ways to recharge the pearls. New paths could await us, or the one Princess Cadance followed might open itself to us at last. But when that happens..."

He hesitated.

"There was one attempt," he told them, "because at that time, there could only be one. And in part, it was because there was but a single mare dedicating her life towards it. There are many requirements for success: devotion, study, discovery, faith --- and somepony to try. Eventually, I may find the means to stabilize her -- but even then, in time, we will need to try again."

They listened, and six did so in horror.

"Some of you joined the Great Work because you feared that one day, a broken foal would arise from sins which had not been yours," he continued. "That you would have to think about sending on. The Great Work remains incomplete, and so such births are still inevitable. But when it happens... instead of sending them on... send them to me. For our efforts have reached their next generation, and..."

He smiled.

"...I admit... I have been looking forward to hearing the sound of children in my halls again."

Gentle Arrival raised his left foreleg. Extended it outwards, hoof slashing into a salute.

"For hope," he said.

"For hope," so much of the room chorused. He nodded, began to turn --

-- and Twilight, whose gag had never been replaced, used the only opportunity she had for the failure she had already known would occur, and called out to her.

"Come with us!" It was a cry of desperation. It was a plea. It was utterly futile. "You don't have to go with him! Run away, find us again! We'll help you, I swear we'll do everything we can to help..."

She twitched. Eyes which were just a little less hazy than before briefly winced shut. And then the unicorn shook her head.

The next words made up only one of the questions rampaging through Twilight's mind. But the gathering had nearly ended, and so they formed the only one she would get to voice. "Why are you letting him do this to you?"

The sudden expression which formed the first part of the response was a familiar one, for Twilight had seen it at the shore of that freezing lake: the confusion which came from hearing a pony ask a question which had already been answered through the simple act of existing. But words followed it. It was the only time she spoke during the gathering and as with all of her words, they were broken by pain, agony produced from a wound which could never heal.

But this time, the pain was something far more than the mere physical.

"I killed. My mother. And he loved me anyway."

Her father started to turn back upon hearing those words, was just beginning to look up at her --

-- and that was when Pinkie's soft, half-weeping voice broke the world.

"If he ever loved you at all... then he wouldn't have loved you for what he thought you should have been, he would have loved you for who you are..."

Twilight saw the words as they went behind the mare's eyes. Recognized a moment of impact, a solid double-kick doing its best to shatter every barrier there was --

-- but then all she could see was the silver corona which had just ignited, coming closer as the stallion jumped off the stage again.

This time, the injured leg failed to take that portion of his weight, and he nearly collapsed to the side: a quick flare of his own field propped him up.

"Separate them," he called out to the room as he moved forward, closing in on Pinkie. "Now. The unicorn and the Princess in one cell. Fluttershy and the pegasus in a second. The earth pony and this one in the third. Remove their gags, provide feedbags, send somepony in twice a day to assist with their toiletries. Keeping those with horns under restraints should be obvious, along with making sure the pegasus remains bound. But under no circumstances is anypony to remove Fluttershy's blindfold, and simply keeping her indoors will do the rest. And when it comes to the true wild card among the grouping..."

He had reached Pinkie now, and his head dipped to let him speak directly into one dark pink ear.

"They all know what you are now, Pinkamena," he softly said. "They know that you're the freak you always feared you were, the monstrosity which your father recognized on sight. He was right about you, don't you know that? He was always right, to reject you, to hate you... because nopony could or should ever love a hybrid. And so nopony ever will again."

She didn't move. She didn't speak. She didn't cry. She simply collapsed to the floor, darkened legs splaying as much as the heavy chains would allow.

He straightened. It gave Twilight a glimpse of his face, the pain and regret etched across aging features --

-- emotions which almost instantly vanished.

"Remind her of that every so often," he harshly ordered. "It should keep anything particularly interesting from happening. And when you find the dragon, give him a cell to himself and feed him as little as possible: you'll want to cut down on any opportunity he might have for exhaling. Quiet, take her from here: give her a room in which she can pass some time while we prepare for departure, then start to see our guests home while making sure no scales try to sneak through any exit. And --"

He moved again, a few hoofsteps along the line. Stopped in front of Rarity, whose very fur seemed to be spiking in fury.

"You didn't wear the first of my pearls to the party," he stated. "It's still in your assigned quarters, correct? Then in that case, Generosity, as compensation for a portion of my losses, I'll be taking her back."

He half-trotted, half-stalked away. Quiet carefully climbed onto the stage, lightly touched her flank (producing a tiny, startled jump) and then began to lead her towards the largest door. She glanced back only once as she shuffled towards the exit, her movements now visibly somewhat pained (with nearly everypony failing to notice, lost in the music of the murmur), and that horribly confused gaze fell upon Pinkie.

The baker didn't acknowledge it. She simply allowed herself to be dragged away as multiple corona loops pulled on limp limbs. Applejack, who was brought along in her wake, put up more of a struggle, enough that some of the weaker fields briefly winked out. One such failure came as she was being dragged past a drapery, and the minor freedom it briefly gave that limb allowed the forehoof to snag a bit of fabric.

Nopony noticed that at first. They simply continued to pull her, and so the hanging came down.

Twilight's last sight, just before she was pulled from the room, was of the rows of tomes which filled the shelves. Books which went beyond mere scarcity, texts which had previously existed only as rumors, now crystallized into words which had originally emerged from nightmare. Enough to make a snitcher, and so much else. More than enough to place a pony into custody while they tried to find any way of explaining just how such aberrations had come to be in their possession.

But there were two things which she heard. One began with Doctor Gentle, who was speaking to a robed pony at the left edge of the room.

"You're letting them live."

"I believe that's been established."

Tight, controlled -- with neither factor sufficient to hide what she recognized as an underlayer of fear. "There are three ponies who know the names on that list. There are three ponies who could be identified..."

"Yes," the older stallion stated. "Perhaps one of them should run."

And the last sound, just before the newest secret door swung shut behind them, was the same as it had been all along, only with fresh excitement added. The official part of the gathering had ended, and it was allowing the attendees to speak with each other, serve as living amplifiers as they talked about the miracle they had seen. Not the miracle they had sponsored, worked towards, longed for -- but a miracle all the same, something nopony had truly believed was possible, and now that one miracle had been achieved, so much else seemed as if it might be done...

It was the sound of excitement. It was self-delusion in perpetually cycling action, with ponies quickly moving from what they had witnessed to what they believed was possible, all the things they might see. It was refusal to acknowledge the possibility that so many kinds of failure could still come, for the miracle would protect their lives. It was dreams brought into the waking world, distorting reality until the truth could no longer be seen.

It was the song of faith being born.

Twilight had been forced to attend a conference, and was dragged away from a cult.