The hills north of Ponyville, a few days ago…

“Girls, are you sure this is such a good idea?” Asked a trembling Sweetie Bell as she stared down the hill at the jump angling out over the chasm below.

“Psssh, you worry too much Sweets. This is nothing for the Crusaders!” An orange filly replied behind her, checking the strap on her helmet with a smirk of confidence.

“Ah dunno Scootaloo,” the third filly replied, a trace of anxiety touching her words as she too looked at their destination. “Ah c’n taste the tree sap already…”

“Oh, you girls worry too much, we’ll be fine. Look, there’s a mattress waiting for us and the parachutes are all good to go. No sweat Applebloom.” Scootaloo smacked the backpack at her friends’ hooves for emphasis, grinning from ear to ear as she slid the pack on.

“Well, ah guess so,” Applebloom muttered half heartedly. With a final glance down the hill she swallowed the lump building in her throat and climbed into the wagon, hugging the already petrified Sweetie Bell tightly.

Spitting into a fore hoof and rubbing it with the other, Scootaloo scrutinized her scooter, checking the impressive, ‘to her,’ machine over one last time in search of any defect. The safety of her friends was at the absolute forefront of her mind, after all. Er, right behind Rainbow Dash, and how absurdly awesome this was sure to be.

Brushing back her cerise mane she nodded with approval before stepping up and onto her trusty vehicle, checking over her shoulder to see that her friends were indeed ready to go. “Everypony ready back there?” She asked.

Sweetie squeaked out her response while Applebloom just shook her head, pupils shrinking down to pinpricks as the wagon rolled forward a bit, nearing the edge of the sheer drop. Both fillies seemed to become one with the little wagon as Scoots leaned forward over the precipice.

Her grin widening further to the point it threatened to split her face, Scootaloo spread her wings, buzzing them in excitement. “Good! Because here we go!” And with that, they were off. Wings flailing and lungs hollering for all they were worth the trio careened down the hill, speed and volume increasing every second.

Whooping in excitement the little daredevil at the controls smiled for all her cheeks could bear, her rear hooves occasionally losing their grip as her wings spurred them on ever faster, trees and large rocks whipping past in a blur of color. Angling her handlebars with expert precision Scootaloo gracefully banked them around the side of a tree stump and towards their destination, a crudely fashioned ramp near the edge of a deep ravine.

“It certainly seems, higher, than it did from back there!” Sweetie Bell shouted, her voice cracking into her characteristic squeak as she competed with the rushing air around them. “I certainly hope the glue holds!” She nearly choked as Applebloom tightened her hold.

“Glue? Wha’da ya mean glue?!” Applebloom Called out, her eyes growing impossibly large. “I thought ah told you ta use the nails!” The red headed filly shrieked.

“I did!” Sweetie replied, anxiety filling her speech and causing even more squeaks as they drew nearer to the ramp, its structural soundness now in question. Producing a long cardboard tube with a pointed plastic tip she held it up for Applebloom to inspect for herself. “See, nails.”

Appleblooms jaw nearly hit the floor of the wagon as she read the label that covered the side of the tube, it read; Liquid Nails. A unique, general-purpose adhesive designed for small to medium-sized repairs for a wide range of surfaces, including glass, polystyrene, fabric, rubber, carpeting, painted surfaces, vinyl, upholstery and more. The product is based on a moisture curing polymer technology that provides quick tack and fast cure. Glue is dishwasher and microwave safe. Items repaired with glue should not be used in conventional ovens or in load bearing applications.

“I’m so glad you had this,” Sweetie Bell said, blissfully unaware of the look of dread spreading over her friend’s face. “I was not looking forward to all that nailing, hate holding hammers in my mouth,” she said, making a gagging face at the thought.

Applebloom could barely believe her ears at her friends ignorance to the ways of engineering. She smacked a hoof to her forehead, realizing immediately the mistake she had made in putting Sweetie in charge of assembling what she already knew to be a terrible idea. Not wanting to disappoint their mutual feathered friend however, Applebloom had set to work following Scoot’s designs to the letter and cutting boards to appropriate lengths.

A violent bounce from the wagon jostled the filly from her musings, reminding her of their predicament as her gaze traveled ahead to their rapidly approaching destination. Applebloom swallowed thickly as countless thoughts poured through her mind, all the horrible ways this could go wrong, especially now that she knew the ramp may not be as safe as originally perceived. Perhaps she should warn Scootaloo? Tell her of the possible danger, try again to dissuade her from this insane stunt all together. What would an insane scooter jumping cutie mark even look like anyhow? ‘Oh, I guess it’s too late now anyway.’

“Everypony hang on back there!” Scootaloo called over her shoulder, mane whipping in a frenzy as her grin managed to widen further. These were the moments she lived for, would do anything for. This was when she felt truly alive. And today, they would totally get their cutie marks! Except not really.

They were close now, wheels nearly touching the ramp as their speed reached its full potential. The exhilaration of pressure from the sudden upward curve provided. The sudden heart wrenching sound of creaking wood, followed swiftly by the gut wrenching feeling of weightlessness as the structure supporting them collapsed upon itself from the load.

In a heartbeat the seemingly simple stunt had gone from poorly planned fun and success to a nightmarish plunge as the scooter dropped out from under them, flipping the attached wagon up and over itself into an uncontrollable tumble. The three fillies let loose a collective scream as they were tossed free, hurtled through the air like puppets without their strings on a trajectory intersecting the far cliff face, and inevitable fall to the rushing river below. Then, it all stopped…

With a heavy sigh the currently blue and beige newt stood beside the ruins of the once proud and mighty ramp, shaking his head as he watched the fillies inch forward through the air, his perceptions running in overdrive as he observed the events at his leisure. “Okay, this is exactly why I can’t believe you ponies haven’t gone extinct yet,” Tillook muttered dryly, poking at a piece of splintered wood as it spun lazily by. “As if there aren’t already enough stupid ways to die in this world, you three have to go and literally provoke Fate by pretty much flipping them the bird,” he spun around on his heel and marched away, back up the hill to where he had been walking. “Well, see if I care. I ain’t bailing you girls out again, not this time, no more, enough is…”

A moment later found the newt once again standing at the chasm’s edge, he cringed slightly as he peered down into the abyss. The drop was at least several hundred hooves. His eyes traced over the jagged rocks and foaming waters that awaited the foals. “Meh, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Tillook said confidently before turning to walk away again.

Taking a few steps he let out another low groan, looking back over his shoulder he bit his lip. “Oh, come on, they did this themselves,” he reasoned. “I’m sure they have a plan in position for this, there see, parachutes,” the newt said, waving a hand dismissively as he continued up the trail. “Why, I’ll bet they’re going to pull those cords any nanosecond now and float down to a gentle landing in the rushing river, then probably laugh about it later over some shakes back at town.”

“Are you sure about that?” Asked a tiny version of himself as it materialized on his shoulder, a worried look crossing its features. “They could be in real trouble; would you really just walk away from them?”

Glancing down at his still padding feet Tillook cocked his head to the side. “Apparently,” he stated matter-of-factly and flashing a smile of wickedly sharp teeth, not slowing his pace in the slightest. “Or have you forgotten our pact? Hmm? Remember, we still have five seals to go, not to mention the final key to obtain,” he glanced back at the fillies, sucking some air in through his teeth as he did. “There’s just no time left in the schedule for saving a bunch of brats about to kill themselves over ass tattoos,” a small black leather book appeared in his hand, the pages covered in hastily written notes. “Nope, absolutely booked.”

“Well said, bravo,” Came Tillook’s voice as a second him appeared upon the free shoulder. “Don’t listen to that softhearted twat, he’s part of the reason we’re in this mess in the first place! The only reason we lost!”

“What ‘we’ did was so that countless innocents could live!” The other fired back, straightening the little white robe it wore as they glared at each other. “There was no better choice to have been made. It was either them, or us.”

“But at what cost? Our throne, our power, or the fact the domain was laid to ruin! And now we can never go back because you got soft!” Spat the other, a reddish glow emanating from deep within him as he seethed, tensing as if to land a blow.

Grasping each in a hand Tillook held them out before his face, a stern glare silencing their growing feud. “Guys, guys. Come on, we have been through this sorry song and dance a bazillion times, literally. This constant bickering isn’t going to help anything now, there is a plan and I suggest we just stick to it till everything comes together. Alright?” He said firmly, slowly turning his hands palm up to allow them to stand. “We can have an existential crisis later, assuming this realm has a later. And what’s with all this ‘our’ stuff? You’re just fragments of my mind.”

“As true as that statement is,” Evil butted in, still glaring daggers at Good as the other produced a gold harp and plucked at the strings. “It changes nothing if you consider the fact these are obviously your own thoughts to begin with.”

Rolling his eyes Tillook once again glanced in the fillies’ direction, his toes digging in the dirt as his mind continued to converse with itself in his hands. “Yeah? And so what if they are? I made that pact, and I stand by it. I will have my revenge, even if it has gone cold. The things taken from me will be mine again,” he said, a cold tone seeping into his voice. “And I’ll remove anyone in my way,” a shiver ran down his spine at that, realizing just how icy his voice had become.

“At what consequence, I wonder?” Good said, looking up at him with a disheartened stare. “Even if it means becoming the villain of this story?” The miniature crossed its arms, a palpable tension growing in the air.

Sighing heavily, and with a grunt of finality Tillook continued his march. “If that’s what it takes. Then so be it,” he muttered darkly, events around him seeming to speed back up slightly as he walked, the sounds of screaming crawling back into motion behind him.

“That is not what your subjects would want. They would never condone such acts of villainy made in their name,” Good reminded, stepping onto Tillook’s wrist to better look him in the eye. “They were willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of the great plan. As were you, once,” he finished, peering up at him with the strangest of self-judging looks.

Tillook paused his walking, everything around them returning to a crawl. “You dare bring that up? Listen here you little shit, I didn’t spend the last thousand years imagining you into existence just to be berated by my own head!” Tillook roared as he caught the tiny representation in his fingers, giving him a good squeeze. “I am not the good guy, get it? I never was! Never even wanted to be! And I’m certainly no hero!” His hand began to tighten as his rage built.

“Maybe not,” Good affirmed with a nod, his eyes beginning to bulge under the pressure. “But, you were far from being a monster. Even at the worst of times,” he struggled feebly until he managed to free an arm and point at himself. “And whether you want to believe it or not, there has always been good in you.”

Tillook chanced another fleeting glance at the trio, their peril not being lost on him as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Oh, damn it all to the farthest nether regions of Algolith!” He said irritably, turning and taking a step back towards the girls. Who was he trying to fool? He had all the time in the world.

A firm stomp in Tillook’s hand however brought his attention back to the other representation, now blazing a deep crimson as he glared up at himself. “Why bother with them? Those three are of no further use to you, let them splatter. You won’t miss them, any more than you did her parents,” Evil sneered, dredging up memories of the fateful night for emphasis as he threw a finger in the fillies’ direction.

Tillook’s face darkened instantly as he pressed the memories back down, Evil shrinking back in an attempt to gain himself some distance, the air growing cold around them. “And you went way beyond necessary means that night!” Tillook all but roared, suddenly flinging his creation to the dirt. “They did not deserve that. They were no threat!”

“They deserved that and more!” Evil shouted back, growing to nearly the full size of the original in an instant, glowing with inner fire and wrath. “They deserved their suffering, and far worse. As do all of these wretched abominations! Why should they thrive while they dance upon the very ashes of what came before!?” He took an advancing step, leaning into the face of his creator.

“Because, they are innocent to the old world!” Tillook growled as he stepped closer, his own power flaring in a deep violet and black Aura, the newt glaring down at his own cruelty and malice. “We had our chance to change. And never did. The Forger was right to fear us, if anyone deserved what happened, it was us,” he pushed passed the representation, moving back down the hill towards the girls. A wave of his hands stopping the fillies just before they could make contact with the rocks. “I may not be anyone’s hero, but that still doesn’t mean I have to listen to you either. Now, get out of my sight.”

Evil snarled in retaliation, a final menacing glare flashing over his face before he stomped the dirt, his rage burning the ground around him. “You have grown weak, Tillook. Your compassion will lead to your end,” in a burst of red flame, he was gone.
“Good riddance,” Tillook muttered with a sigh, his energy dimming as he turned back to the gasping form of Good struggling back to his feet, a look of disdain glinting in his eyes. “And you, you stay the hell out of this! I’m no saint! I don’t have time to go around dealing out charity to every hard case and sob story that comes along! So, screw off,” he fumed, breathing heavily in an attempt at calming himself down, shaking his head as he looked back to the ravine with a groan.

“Why do you have to be so damn good?” Tillook questioned half heartedly, staring across the chasm as he came to the edge. He scrunched his face into a confused scowl, not understanding at first the feeling flowing through him. Concern, he finally realized. He was actually feeling concerned for these girls safety. It had been so long, Tillook barely recognized his own emotion.

“Because that’s what you wanted me to be,” Good said in response, smiling as he straightened up with renewed vigor. “Deny me all you want, it will never change anything,” he stated as a matter-of-factly.

Smiling despite himself Tillook couldn’t help a weak chuckle. “You never give up, do you?” He muttered, a hand rubbing his manacles absentmindedly. “Still trying to save our soul.”

“Well, somebody has to. Even you won’t live forever,” Good stated firmly, watching as the real him continued to fidget. It was always a struggle, but Good would never quit.

“That’s it,” Tillook said with all the enthusiasm of a moss-covered rock. “I need to talk with somebody of a higher moral standing, you two are too biased on the matter,” he grumbled, pulling out an iPhone twelve and flicking it on before glancing up at the sky. “What? It’ll happen.”

“Oh. Please don’t tell me you’re calling, him?” Good asked with a hint of dread, a small blush spreading over his tiny face.

“What? It was one time!” Tillook growled, pressing first the six, then the nine on his dialer, rolling his eyes when the interdimensional roaming notice popped up, making a face he accepted the outrageous service fee. “Now where the hell is he?” Placing the otherworldly device to an ear he waited, patiently humming a cheery tune to the ring.

Growing a face of his own, Good glanced back and forth between Tillook and the girls. He found himself having to force down the feeling of distress as the girls floated within mere inches of their end.

After a few more rings another voice filtered out through the phones speakers. “Hey, Tillook! What’s up brother?! Long time no see! Listen, we should totally hang out later, grab a beer, watch another apocalypse er somethin?”

“Well, yes i… uh?... that certainly sounds…” Tillook stifled a groan as he tried to get a word in edgewise over the exuberant speaker at the other end. “Suppose we could, but I was actually hoping for a little friendly advice. Do you think you could, come by for a bit?” He asked, chewing his lip a bit in apprehension.

There was a brief pause from the line before the voice continued. “Yeah, sounds good to me. Or, it would if I could actually hear a single word you just said,” another brief pause followed, leaving Tillook to glare down at his phone in disgust. “Anyway, I’m out of the house right now, or just blatantly ignoring you. Leave your song at the…”

BEEP

Tillook cringed away from the unnecessarily boisterous machine, yet another growl escaping him. “Damn it Patches!” He bellowed into the phone, eyes flashing in fury. “I know you’re there! Patches!? Get that vermillion flank of yours over here this instant and pick up the phone… I’m emotionally vulnerable here… Evil’s being really aggressive, Good’s being a little bitch, ‘hey!’ and the three little insufferables drove a scooter off a cliff, and it’s not even a Tuesday! Now, tell me what to do,” Tillook lowered the phone slightly, his glare softening a bit as he looked at it. “I’m sorry, you’re probably busy. I’ll just, flip a coin, or something…”

Powering off the phone Tillook tossed it over his shoulder and once again stared at the cause of his most recent internal conflict, humming the lyrics of a song he shouldn’t know. Shrugging his shoulders the newt produced a small silver coin, thoroughly polished on one side, charred black on the other…

“You cannot be serious, their lives, riding on a coin toss,” Good spluttered, his jaw slackening in disbelief.

“Uh, yup,” Tillook muttered under his breath, concentrating on the coin as he carefully placed it on his thumb. Sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth he flicked it into the sky, tracking its every move as it gracefully arced through the air, right over the edge of the ravine, flashing in the light as it disappeared into the foaming water below. “Damn,” he snapped his fingers as he looked back to Good. “Forgot to call it,” with another detached shrug he turned and walked away.

Good just stared down where the coin had vanished, a horrified expression plastering itself over his face. “You, how can you just?” He trailed off, not fathoming how he could be so, so dark.

“Hey, this story has a dark tag for a reason kid, you don’t like it, tough. Now keep it down, I’m going through my receipts, gotta balance out the checkbook,” Tillook said, sitting at a desk with an old timey typewriter. “Need to make sure I didn’t break the bank after all those purchases.”

Mind still reeling Good could hardly think as he turned, one thing forging through the haze. “What, purchases?”

Tillook smiled wickedly as he flipped through the tiny strips of paper. “Cheap splintery plywood, fifty five dollars, fake Liquid Nails, eight dollars, that prop coin, two dollars,” he sneered up at the sky with a wink. “The look on Church’s face when he reads this, priceless.”

“Who’s, Church?” Good muttered as Tillook suddenly pushed past him, his confusion only growing when a jar was shoved into his hands by the taller original.

“Never mind, I doubt his tears will help now anyway,” ignoring the stuttering form behind him Tillook continued forward, ignoring gravity as he strode casually over to the fillies.

“I know what you girls are doing, and it’s not cool,” one at a time he grabbed the Crusaders, floating them up and over to the waiting mattress. “Believe it or not, I can’t actually be everywhere at once, and one of these days you’re going to find I ain’t there to bail your sorry blank flanks out,” Gently setting the last filly beside her friends, Tillook turned to leave them, pausing when he spotted a particularly lovely pine tree…

/ / / / / / / / / / / /

In a blinding flash of light and color coupled with a jarring, teeth-shaking jerk the cutie mark crusaders blurred back into motion, slamming into, a plush mattress? With groans of disorientation and looks of confusion the girls glanced around before climbing to their hooves.

“Uh, girls, what exactly jus’ happened here?” Applebloom asked, nearly toppling over on the uneven surface as it gave under her hooves. “Did, we just fly?” After another few moments of blundering about she gave up and sat back on her haunches, settling for just trying to contain a sudden onset of nausea. Unbeknownst to the little filly, her two friends were currently sharing a look, both smiling widely at one another as they winked.

Scootaloo’s eyes slowly left Sweetie’s, landing across the ravine near the remains of the destroyed ramp. With a faint smile she silently mouthed the words, thank you, as she watched the tiny figure turn and disappear into the brush.

“And why in tarnation are we covered in tree sap!?”

/ / / / / / / / / / / /

Tillook grumbled as he pushed his way through the brush, navigating the forest as silently as a ghost. A grumbling mumbling ghost, that occasionally would topple a tree unfortunate enough to find itself in his path. His eye darted over to once again catch a glimpse of Good smiling up at him. “And just what are you grinning about?” He fumed, smacking away a fern as they pushed deeper into the Everfree.

“I knew it,” was all the diminutive thing would say, staring back with a look of pride twinkling in his eye.

“Knew what?” Tillook asked, not truly paying him much mind at first. He balled his fists however as the figment chuckled happily, moving closer to elbow him in the leg.

“That there is still some good in you, after all,” Good said with a warm smile, eliciting another irritated huff.

“Nope, never. No way, no how,” Tillook stated stubbornly, quickening his pace. “You’re wrong.”

“Admit it,” Good goaded, catching up quickly to continue the assault. “Admit that I’m still here!” His voice escalating to compete with the loud whistling the other tried to drown him out with. “And above all else, admit that you felt something!”

“Like what?” Tillook snarled, punching his way through a scraggly birch. The tree exploded into powder under the magical force laced into the hit, the newt paying the obstacle no further mind. “That after thousands of years, I suddenly found myself caring about some random trio of under-evolved troglodytes!” He yelled, throwing another punch into a house sized boulder to similar effect, pulverizing the stone under his rage. “That I would feel genuine concern?!”

Good stood by patiently, a stoic expression hardening his features as shards of rock glanced off his form. “That you still have a soul left to do so,” he said in as comforting a tone as he could muster. “That there is still something left to save.”

Tillooks arms fell to his sides, a cold stare coming over him as he heaved a sigh, frowning at the statement. “No, Good. You’re wrong about me,” he looked down at the shards of destroyed nature around him. “I never felt anything, just stirrings from our old life, resurfacing to cause further pain. There is nothing left, just the revenge and the will to see it through,” he flexed his hands till the knuckles shone white through the skin before shuffling forward again, face scrunching into a loathing scowl. “Now, be gone, or, however I get rid of you.”

Raising a hand as if to protest Good stepped forward, only to pale in a sickly manner and lower his head, his own face saddening in turn. “I suppose that will work,” with a shake of his head he simply vanished into the shadows.

Coming to the top of the hill Tillook chanced a glance back into the distance, eyes zeroing in on a trio of little fillies as they limped into town some miles away. For whatever reason, his scowl softened. “Eh, I had to find some way to spite Evil anyway. I suppose this will do.”

/ / / / / / / / / / / /

Stepping down off the moss covered rocks Tillook made his way into the shady grotto, glancing around at the faded glyphs covering the overhanging stone walls that sheltered this place. Stepping carefully he avoided the shallow pools of crystalline water that collected here, showing a rare amount of respect as he moved.

Feet padding tentatively he came to a stop near the farthest back pool, a shimmering waterfall the source of the water flowed down from someplace higher up the orchid and fern covered cliffs. At the very base of the falls stood the half crumbled remains of a stone obelisk, a structure that, at one time, may have reached as high as the hills themselves. Running a hand over the weathered construct Tillook took a knee and bowed, the greatest sign of respect he could give.

“You’re late,” announced the voice of an all too familiar Phoenix as she landed gracefully behind him, a wash of heat flowing through the air around her.

Tillook stood and backed away from the pillar before turning to look at her, a mad grin growing over his face. “That’s my line,” he said with a bark of hollow laughter, his voice mimicking her birdlike speech. “Heh, lovely seeing you again, Philomena. Truly, it has been too long,” Tillook smiled, moving closer and extending a hand.

“Yes, almost long enough,” Philomena replied in an edgy tone, extending a wing and nearly rolling her eyes at his hideous rendition of a gentlemen kissing a lady’s hand. “I must admit, I never expected to see you slinking around here again.”

“Yes, well, this time I have good reason. Believe it or not I’ve been invited.” A touch of seriousness thickening the newt’s voice at this, “And besides, did you really think this is something I would miss even if I weren’t? Under much duress, I’m still technically a Fate, and as such, have a say in these matters.”

“Well, there’s a curious thing to hear, coming from such a traitor to the cause,” snorted a white blur of cottony fur as it jumped down from the rocky ledge above. “Figures you would come crawling back now, tail tucked between your legs.”

Smirking in indifference Tillook turned towards the third entity to arrive, crossing his arms with as much intimidation as his tiny form could muster. “And there’s a funny thing for you to say, being the guy who changed sides simply because these fools started winning,” he made an advancing step with a snarl of contempt. “Why not come over here and test your luck against mischief?”

“Gladly,” the comparatively larger rabbit snarked as he sauntered over, an aura of pure white energy coalescing around his form. The two moved forward, Tillook’s own aura of violet and black light exploding outward and flashing with charges of ultraviolet electricity. “The Eldest One will surely reward me greatly for destroying the great Flail!” And with that, they lunged.

“Angel! Enough, save this for someplace else,” Owlovard bellowed as he landed between the two, pushing them back in a burst of golden energy. “I will not tolerate such behavior here, and you, Tillook, I would have you behave yourself in this place.”

Gritting his teeth as he picked himself up from the ground Tillook glared at the owl, brushing dust from his chest. “Yeah, you and what army’s going to make me? I don’t take orders from you,” he smirked, a ball of energy forming over a fist as he backed away. Only to shiver as the air behind him fell to an unnatural chill, his aura flickering out as he slowly turned to find a pair of dull soulless purple eyes staring back at him.

“Ahh, Damnation, how good of you to join us,” Owlovard said with a smile as Tillook fell over backwards in an attempt to scuttle away from the nearly equally sized alligator. The creature remaining just as silent as always as he tracked the shivering newt with unblinking eyes.

“Oh,” Tillook said with an audible gulp, slowly standing back to a somewhat normal stance. “There’s my place, and you just put me in it,” he muttered, moving to stand next the owl, chancing a last venomous glare to the rabbit.

“I can hardly believe my eyes, Mischief and Luck occupying the same time zone, yet no plagues, nor mass genocide in sight,” the assemblage turned to the grottos entrance, dipping their heads in acknowledgment as three more beings slowly moved towards them. One the appearance of a small white cat, analyzing them with a calculating gaze as she spoke. Another taking the form of an energetic collie, this one hanging back slightly, helping along a third creature, a tortoise that barely seemed to move as they traveled.

Stepping forward to intercept the feline Tillook extended an arm, holding out his hand to help her down the final step to level ground. “Beauty, it has most definitely been too long,” he said sweetly, bowing lower as she glanced his way.

Peering down at his spindly limb she sniffed delicately, turning away and ignoring his presence completely before moving on. “Hmmm,” being her only response.

Dropping his arm Tillook wandered over to his place as the others greeted each other warmly, forming a circle before the obelisk, each one taking a moment to leave it their own respects. As each member of the group found their respective places, they each stood above a rune carved into the rocky ground. No matter how much he tried though, he could never ignore just how many more runes there were, than the number of beings now present.

As the conversing grew quiet, a dull thudding echoed around the pools, barely audible over the trickling water. The sound still managed the desired effect however as the Tortoise lowered the rock he held, smiling a thin smile as he searched their faces. It had indeed been too long.

“My sisters, my brothers, welcome to this momentous occasion. An event not seen for over ten thousand years,” his gravelly voice carried with surprising strength as it traveled around the group, eyes watering as he searched out every one of them. “Prosperity, Beauty, Luck, Wisdom, Damnation,” he paused, eyes settling on Tillook as he looked to the floor. “And Mischief. Welcome, to the meeting of the Fates.”

/ / / / / / / / / / / /

The Eve of Nightmare Night

“Tickets please, tickets,” called a teal stallion as he walked along through the passenger coach, hole punching the tickets of new riders. Bending down he quickly caught a heavy suitcase for an elderly mare as she fumbled an attempt at stowing it overhead. Smiling warmly as she thanked him he punched her ticket and continued on, whistling a hearty tune as he moved back a car.

Passing through the slider door separating the cars he glanced over the boarding ponies as they moved about finding seats, his hole punch twirling gracefully in a soft magnolia glow of magic, the faintest hint of a hum emanating from the horn adorning his head. With a slight nod to a luggage porter outside on the platform he closed the slider and moved toward the back of the last passenger car, the coach being mostly empty save for seven travelers, six young looking mares and a baby dragon, an unusual group to be sure but none the less, they would receive nothing but the best.

“Welcome aboard ladies,” he said cheerfully, walking down between the rows of seats with a purposeful step. “And Drake, of course,” he amended, after receiving the stink eye from Spike for the oversight. “If I could validate your tickets please, we should be underway shortly.”

“Oh, certainly sir,” Twilight replied, fishing the requested documents from her saddlebags. She held them out for the conductors inspection, waiting patiently as he scanned over them before expertly hole punching them with a smile.

“Well, everything seems to be in order,” he stated in a matter of fact way before hoofing her back the tickets. “There you are Miss, Sparkle, enjoy your time in Canterlot. Heading up for tonight’s festivities?”

“Why yes, actually,” Twilight replied as she restacked the tickets in a neat and orderly way, placing them back where they belonged in her bag. “We’re all quite excited to see the new things that Princess Luna has planned,” her friends were quick to confirm the statement with murmurs of their own curiosity.

“Excited?! Twilight, excited doesn’t even begin to cover it!” Pinkie shouted as she bolted across the aisle, her hooves and face impacting the window with the sound one might expect from a giant suction cup, somehow holding her weight off the floor. “I mean, who knows the kind of exilerific things that Luna has hidden around the place!” She squeed in delight, her face pressing itself completely flat as she stared up at the gleaming city in the distance.

Rarity took the seat just behind Pinkie and gave Canterlot her own inspecting glance, a near dreamy expression hinting at her features. “Well, I certainly hope she took some of my décor tips to heart. No disrespect meant, but,” she paused a moment to mull it over, looking back to the others before continuing. “Some, er, all, of her ideas were just so,” Rarity rolled a hoof around in the air in front of her, eyes narrowed as she remembered the horrors against all that she stood for. “Outdated…” She said flatly.

“Ah, come on now Rares, how bad could it a’ve been?” Applejack asked, effortlessly tossing one of the mare’s outrageously heavy trunks that poor Spike had been carrying into the overhead. “This here’s Luna we’re talkin’ bout, why ahm sure she’d know at least a thing er two on decerat’in fer her own holiday,” she gave her friend a look. “Sakes, if’n anypony would know how ta do it proper, I’d think it’d be her.”

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat Rarity huffed as she turned back to look upon the city. “Oh, I know that darling, but that does not absolve her of the crimes against modern fashion and design,” her teeth ground together in a scowl. “If she were any other pony.”

“If she were any other pony she would have dropped by now from listening to you gab about this same thing over and over, for the last three hours…” Rainbow Dash huffed with a groan, taking a seat next to Fluttershy and promptly smacking her face into the backrest in front of her. “I know I sure can’t take it anymore,” she muttered into the plush cushion, half heartedly slugging her Pegasus friend on the shoulder. “I’m tagging you in Shy, that’s it for me.”

Rolling her eyes at Rainbow’s dramatics, Applejack turned and headed back towards the still open doors, and the platform beyond. “Now ya’ll have a good time tonight, an ah expect pictures,” she called back over her shoulder, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as Pinkie blinded poor Rarity with a camera she pulled from, somewhere.

“I sure wish you could come along Applejack,” Twilight said as A.J. walked past her. “Celestia wouldn’t let much slide, but she said it will be amazing. Apparently Luna really went all out for this,” she placed a foreleg over the cow mare’s withers in a half hug, a gesture that was quickly reciprocated in kind.

“Me too Twi,” Applejack lamented, breaking the hug to continue on her way. “But, yah know, previous engagements and what not,” with a final wave of her hoof she slipped out the door into the evening light and headed back towards Sweet Apple Acres.

A few more ponies filtered into the coach as the girls fell into mixed conversations, the conductor greeting and checking their tickets as they settled into seats. Rarity and Fluttershy chattering away on proper threading techniques for satin table cloth while Rainbow Dash stared at the floor, Pinkie telling her about somepony by the name Madam Le Flour?

Twilight smiled as she looked away from her friends with a half roll of her eyes, they could go on like this for hours. She often found herself contemplating on the matter of how such diverse personalities could ever have come together in such perfect cohesion, such perfect harmony. Truly, the magic of friendship was a wondrous and powerful thing.

Losing themselves to their excitement none of the mares noticed as the conductor slipped away out the back of the car, heading towards the rear of the train, his pace having increased significantly from when he first addressed them.

Moving quickly, careful to avoid any prying eyes, the stallion entered the baggage car and closed the sliding door carefully, checking through the tiny peep window for signs of being followed. Seeing nothing out of his liking he turned and navigated his way around the unusually high piles of excess luggage and mail parcels, all stacked in such a way that they concealed the rear of the carriage from view of the door.

Passing by a final mound of suitcases yielded another pair of stallions, one being the luggage porter, the other, an engineer for the locomotive. Stacked three high along either wall were over a dozen large metal shipping containers, their bulk subtly placed to block the view from the two small windows. “Well, don’t you two look cozy,” he said flatly, moving up to stand before the pair, one a smoky gray while the other sported a flamboyant heliotrope.

“Jus’ wait’in fer his justness to give the word’s all,” the gruff gray pony replied, his mouth fumbling over an accent it never truly mastered. “What say yah? Masta Skitter? The troops be getting antsy fer this,” he said, rapping a hoof against a container, the faint buzz of papery wings answering the attention.

Allowing a wicked grin to touch his lips, the kind not belonging to the face of a pony, the creature referred to as Skitter cracked his neck with a simple flick of his head.

“Soon, my brethren, soon,” he began to walk forward as he said this, neon green flames flashing into being that covered his body head to hoof to reveal a sleek Changeling warrior, thick chitinous plates covering all vital areas, complemented by the accompaniment of the serrated spines of an alpha drone. “It is as her majesty proclaimed, the bearers are here, and they shall fall!” In a flash of his now green magic a final tuft of mane burned away from the base of his horn, revealing a gleaming golden ring. “For the honor of those fallen. For the love of the Queen! For the good of the hive!!”

Author's Notes:

Working on some backstory for Tillook and the rest of the Fates. And huzzah, the CMC are involved.

~Dollars

THAT MOTHERFUCKING FINAL WORD COUNT. FUCK YOU DOLLARS ITS NOT FUNNY.

-Jake