Chapter 13

“Tumbling Down”

    “Thank you, Commander; that’s all I need for now.”

    The armoured unicorn gave a sharp salute, and promptly trotted out of the small interview room that the Princess had set up for this purpose. It was a small room dominated entirely by a sturdy wooden table with a comfortable pair of cushions sitting opposite each other, and a single door allowing entry to the small room. At one end of the table, still sitting on his cushion, a mature unicorn stallion sat staring down at his hastily scrawled notes despairingly. He didn’t even look up when the door clicked open and allowed a stocky zebra access to the room in the wake of the royal guard.

    “Please tell me you got something, Quagga,” the sandy unicorn pleaded, but he only had to look at his friend’s expression to know the truth. Professor Relic thumped his head on the table. “Who knew it would be this hard?”

    “It has only been a week,” Quagga counseled, adjusting his laden saddlebags.

    “I know, I know,” Relic sighed. “Still, I hoped to see something, a hint that we’re on the right path at least. “

    Quagga shook his head and put a hoof on his friend’s shoulder, “Do not be so hard on yourself, my friend, you have gotten us this far. For now, let us retire to our chambers. There are no more interviews for the day, and we can cancel future interviews while we reassess our approach.”

    Relic nodded and allowed himself to be led by the zebra out of the small interview room and into the richly appointed hallway of the palace. Even as utilitarian as the under-passages of the castle were, the air of royalty still was felt. Sure, they traded the usual marble halls with golden fixtures for painted steel walls that could double as an emergency shelter should it prove necessary, but there was still something intangible he couldn’t quite put a hoof on…

    “You know,” Relic mused softly, causing Quagga to quirk an ear, “before staying here, I had no idea the palace extended as far into the mountain as it does.”

    “It makes sense, if you look at it,” a gruff voice answered, and both unicorn and zebra turned to regard the steely gray pegasus as he ambled up, his golden armour glittering in the ubiquitous light of the hallway.

    “Good evening, Clean Slate,” Relic said, greeting him, as the zebra nodded to the familiar guard. “What do you mean?”

    “Think about it,” the guard noted, falling into step with the pair. Officially he was “escorting” them back to their chambers, but really he had little cause for concern from them. It was more just a routine position for the elder pegasus to work out his remaining days before retiring from the guard. “The castle is perched rather precariously on the edge of a cliff. Something has to hold it there, right?”

    Professor Relic chuckled, “I always just assumed it was magic.”

    “Most ponies do,” Slate answered with a gravelly chuckle, “and that’s exactly what we want our enemies to think. Down here are the aspects of the castle we don’t wish to advertise to everypony, things like the dungeons and the treasury. It’s one of the reasons we use these as a staging and training ground for the Guard, these are two areas that are extremely sensitive to the security of Canterlot. We also have safe rooms for the Princesses should we come under attack.”

    “Given their natures, I imagine that would not be an easy task to get them into,” Quagga noted with a smirk. “From what I have heard, both Princesses prefer to be on the front line over hiding in safety while ponies place their lives on the line.”

    The guard nodded. “You’re correct, of course, but you don’t think that we wouldn’t have somewhere to protect the two most precious things to all of ponykind, do you?” The guard then nodded to a heavy door as he came abreast of it. “Home, gents, such as it is. I’ll let Thyme know you’re back so she can fetch you two some dinner.”

    “Back to the gilded cage,” Relic sighed, earning a sympathetic look from his guard.

    “Could be worse, eh?” Slate tried to joke. “You could be like the hoof-full of poor bastards we keep in the dungeon…”

    Relic did his best to smile, but didn’t truly feel it as he tugged the door open to the chambers he and Quagga had been sharing since that fateful day in the desert. He let his eyes wander the familiar room as he entered, sighing as the door closed and the lock clicked behind him. The room was spacious, long and narrow like a museum hall or town home, and yet somehow managed to feel felt cramped all the same. The right side of the room was dominated by bookshelves of rich mahogany that extended from floor to ceiling, stuffed full of books of varying color and size, and every one a book that Celestia had removed from print for one reason or another. It was depressing to think the Princess felt she had to suppress so much information from the ponies, and the world at large. The wall opposite was mostly empty, done in rich wood paneling, with a mid-sized table-like shelf about halfway along it, adorned with a quintet of red velvet pillows. Relic watched as Quagga put the content of his saddlebags, four crystal orbs of very special magic properties, on their pillows.

    Relic sighed and made his way to one of the cushions littered about the room, plopping his flank disconsolately upon it as Quagga climbed up the spiral staircase in the back of the main room, heading up to the shared loft and bedroom the pair shared. Relic really had nothing he could complain about with the accommodations, the beds were huge and turned down daily by one of a number of the cute filly maids the Princesses employed to care for the castle. But as much as he enjoyed the occasional moment staring at their flanks like a lecherous old stallion, he was really starting to feel hemmed in…

    “Not a single reaction?” the unicorn asked his friend as he came back downstairs, saddlebags now stashed away.

    “You already know the answer to this question,” Quagga responded and turned to face the unicorn. “Perhaps simple interviews cannot do what we intend?”

    “That’s about all we can do, though!” Relic responded, his voice tightening with frustration. “The only other answer is one we literally cannot test.”

    Quagga raised an eyebrow as he turned to regard his friend. “Are you thinking that the elements will not respond to words, but only to actions?”

    “Not precisely, but close enough,” the unicorn noted, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “The more I think about it, the more I am reminded that the elements, both sets, only would spring into action during a time of great stress and crisis. Of the elements we have empirical evidence of, the Elements of Harmony, both times in the recent past they became active when potential wielders were placed under an imminent, and probably lethal, threat by an enemy.”

    “It was a version of the Nightmare both times, as I recall,” Quagga noted.

    Relic thunked his hoof on a nearby table to punctuate his words, “Exactly, my friend! Each time they were under extreme duress, when all hope had been lost. Hell, if you want to be specific, according to accounts from the current bearers and Lady Sparkle’s memoirs, the Elements were literally shattered, their physical shells destroyed!”

    “I would not recommend shattering the Elements we have to verify this theory,” the zebra counseled with a sardonic grin.

    Relic managed a weak smile in return. “No, I don’t plan on shattering the elements to prove a point, but do you see where I’m going with this? None of the elements were more than a lump of crystal until the proper stresses were applied. Only when under the full pressure and danger of an overwhelming evil did the elements respond.”

    “Perhaps…” Quagga mused, “…perhaps the elements must search for the true essence of a pony, and only under extreme conditions can that essence be truly known. A pony may be considered honest by his peers, but when under enough pressure he might lie to save his own tail…”

    Relic blinked, his eyes going wide and leaping to his hooves as the comment sunk in. “Quagga, you’re a genius! That’s what we’re doing wrong!” The pony’s face fell in the next moment, and his flank dropped back to the cushion. “And why we can’t test it this way, or any way really. How can we know the true essence of any pony? A stallion may seem brave and strong, but… we can never be sure how many of his answers will be false to his true nature.”

    “I am not sure I would trust either of us to apply such a test,” Quagga noted.

    “And the only known quantities, the bearers of the Elements of Harmony, are the wrong gender to properly utilize in order to test the theory with these elements…” Relic continued.

    “Assuming they would respond at all,” the zebra slid in. “It is highly doubtful that a pony could wield more than one element, even if they did qualify.”

    A light knock on the door interrupted the discussion. The key in the lock thunked, and the door creaked open to allow access to an attractive middle-aged mare with a mint green coat and a large covered platter balanced on her back.

    “Dinner’s served, gents!” she called with a light accent. “I made ye’ some nice cream o’ celery soup with rice and just a hint of brandy; a nice fresh cucumber salad, heavy on the oil as ye’ like, Professor; and a carafe of some of my famous sweet iced tea. And iff’n ye’ have any room f’r dessert, I have some fresh lemon meringue pie waitin’ upstairs with plenty o’ whipped cream for the askin’.”

    Quagga was on his hooves and quickly moving to relieve the mare of the large tray. “Allow me, ma’am.”

    It was all Relic could do to keep from laughing when she batted those big lavender eyes at him. “Such a big strong buck ye’ are, thankya.” Quagga’s chest puffed with the flattery as he carried it to one of the larger tables and settled it down.

    “Thank you, Miss Thyme,” the Professor slipped in as Quagga “escorted” her back to the door. He chuckled at the brief glances they shared, only able to compare them to a pair of love-sick foals with the way they were acting.

    “I swear,” Relic commented when Quagga returned, “we must be the worst kept secret in the palace.”

    “I am not one to complain about it,” Quagga answered evenly, “after all, it got us some cream of celery soup. After the stale rations we had in the desert, I am not one to pass up such fine cuisine.”

    The Professor grinned as he used his magic to levitate the heavy cover off the tray of steaming food, the sweet aroma of freshly cooked food filling their chambers quite nicely. “To say nothing of the lovely Miss Thyme, eh…?”

    Quagga scowled at his friend, which only made the unicorn burst out into laughter.

    The room was like a cave.

    The curtains were pulled, the shades were drawn, and barely any of the light from outside managed to seep its way into the dusky apartment. Not that the resident within needed the light to see anything within it. Her blind eyes, magically attuned thanks to her own special powers and the gifts from the element she bore, were able to pick out the form, shape, and even color of everything that surrounded her. She could “see” the violet covers and drapes of the princess-style bed she resided on, the sheets and comforter a tangled mess, pulled from the edges and wound about her like a nest or cocoon. Beyond, her eyes could pick out the dressers and closets that surrounded her, all filled with a wide variety of clothing provided to her by her mentor and friend, Princess Luna. In a way, she regretted that she wore so little of it, but she had infrequent cause to wear the regal dresses and formal gowns that the Princess usually had tailored for her. She had worn maybe a hoof-full of them a few times, but she always felt so out of place at those sorts of events. She just ended up standing in Luna’s shadow, much as Luna sometimes complained about residing in Celestia’s shadow…

    Galaxi’s attention slid along the closet she found herself focused on, and the frilled edge of some lace petticoat that was trapped between the doors caught her attention. Silently she wondered if it were part of that ludicrous maid uniform Luna convinced her to wear for Nightmare Night last year…

    “So this is where you’re hiding,” a soft voice came from the darkness, interrupting the thought. Galaxi closed her eyes; there was only one pony that could have entered without knocking or being noticed by her psychic/magic sight.

    “Yeah, something like that,” she answered simply, lowering her head to rest on a pillow. She wasn’t tired, but felt emotionally drained all the same.

    “Trixie told me she was worried about you,” the voice continued as a form materialized from the darkness itself, winding together and into the body and regalia of the Lunar Princess, Luna. “You barely spoke to her when you left the hospital this morning, and ever since returning, you’ve been shut up in your room here.”

    “I… I just wanted to be alone,” the blind mare answered softly, hugging the pillow tightly to her chest.

    Luna sighed and leaned forward to part the curtains around the bed, leaning her forelegs on it so she could nuzzle at Galaxi’s ears. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

    “I’d have thought that was apparent,” Galaxi snorted bitterly, her ears splaying under the Princess’ affections. “My friend… excuse me, somepony I thought was my friend, nearly killed me.”

    “And herself,” Luna amended softly.

    “And Flourish,” Galaxi shouted with a sudden burst of anger, causing Luna to recoil from the ferocity, “which in no way forgives any of it!” Her anger evaporated almost as quickly as it appeared, and the pony slumped on the bed, hugging the pillow to her chest even tighter, as though it were a stuffed animal or another pony. “She was my first friend, the closest pony to me outside of… well, of you, Princess. She was closer than any friend I ever remember having before, and I let her into parts of my life that I found hard to open even to you. She stood by my side in the worst of times, shared the best with me, and… and she threw it all away for a pony she barely knew!”

    Luna blinked slightly for a moment, then couldn’t help but smile as a realization brushed through her mind. “You sound jealous of the stallion…”

    “No!” Galaxi objected, her head shooting up. Her expression grew more conflicted a moment later, and she chewed on her lip. “Maybe…? I don’t know. I don’t really understand why I feel this way. I mean, she was trying to help him, and that should count for something, right? But all I could think when she spoke about him is ‘why won’t she talk to me like that?’ Why was she willing to open up to this… this stranger when I’m standing right there begging for her to talk to me?! I know I shouldn’t think it, but I kept feeling like maybe she doesn’t trust me, like maybe she’s tired of me hanging around. Maybe… maybe she doesn’t want me around anymore. She started to feel like a stranger. And then I finally, FINALLY get through to her in the Northern Reaches, and…”

    “…and he steals her back away from you?” Luna asked softly.

    Galaxi lowered her head and bit the pillow for a moment, clenching her eyes shut before answering in a barely audible voice, “Yes. I’m a horrible, horrible pony for feeling that way, but I can’t help it. I know he committed suicide, and it’s horrible but… I can’t stop thinking that he took her away from me! That he stole our friendship…”

    “I’m sorry--”

    “You’re not the pony who needs to apologize!” Galaxi shouted at the Princess, then buried herself in the covers and sheets…

    Luna sighed and lifted herself onto the bed, moving to partially curl about her apprentice, who instinctively leaned into the Princess. Luna gently pet a hoof over the trembling and huddled form under the cocoon of sheets and blankets. “Galaxi…? Galaxi please, listen to me. You are not a horrible pony. I know how wrong it is that you feel this way, but it’s perfectly understandable.”

    “It is?” Galaxi’s muffled voice asked, a small bit of the cover falling away from her face to reveal one of her watery eyes to the Princess.

    “Yes, it is. You’re just too close to the situation, you’re not letting yourself step back and understand why you’re feeling this way,” Luna pointed out as she gently coaxed the cover off her student’s head. “You’re only seeing the horrible, and none of the context that goes with it, what is fueling your own emotions.”

    Galaxi blinked and looked up at her mentor. “I don’t think --”

    “Galaxi,” the Princess interrupted gently, “have you truly looked at your own feelings into this matter? Yes, you have a cause to be angry with Clockwork, but your reactions to it are out of proportion to what actually happened. Flourish has already been in my office to file her report, and then asked if Clockwork was alright. She’s not holding a grudge, and understands that something is wrong…”

    “Good for her,” the mare grumbled.

    Luna sighed softly and pet a hoof over Galaxi’s mane, “Think about how you are reacting to Bottle Rocket. What would you think if Skillet acted this way about a stallion that Flourish met?”

    Galaxi frowned slightly and said, “I’d think he was jealous of the guy, thinking he might try and take Flourish away from him…”

    “Exactly. Now think of how you are reacting towards Clockwork over Bottle Rocket…”

    Galaxi shrugged and looked away and into the darkened room. “Okay, so maybe I am jealous. She’s my… my best friend, why wouldn’t I get jealous? It sounds a bit childish, I guess, but I don’t see what you’re trying to get at, Princess.”

    Luna smiled reassuringly and stroked over her pupil’s mane lightly. “I’m saying that there seems to be more between you and Clockwork than just a friendship.”

    Galaxi turned to look at Luna for a moment, her eyes wide. The Princess of the Night, for a brief shining moment, thought she’d gotten through to her star pupil, only to have her illusion shattered when the mare burst out laughing. Luna’s return smile grew strained as Galaxi flumped over, holding her ribs as she shook from laughter, tears almost literally streaming from her eyes before she managed to answer. “Th-that was a good one, Princess. For a moment I thought you were serious. I-I’m sorry but…” she managed to squeak out, before falling into another round of laughter.

    Luna shook off her surprise and patiently waited for the gale of laughter to subside before asking, “Is it really such a strange thing to consider, Galaxi?”

    “No, ma’am,” Galaxi answered, hiccupping slightly with the leftover giggles, “but Clockwork Key is hardly the stallion of my dreams!”

    “Don’t rule out any possibilities, my apprentice; you never know what the future may hold,” Luna noted softly.

    Galaxi snorted and stifled another laugh, “If you say so…”

    “Regardless, that seems to have cheered you up a bit,” the Princess noted.

    The mare nodded. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

    “Good, now why don’t you go out for a walk or something, get out of this stuffy room. I know you still have much on your mind, but brooding here in the dark like a Diamond Dog won’t do you any good.”

    Galaxi nodded and crawled out of the nested cocoon she’d made for herself, then made a face at her matted tail and mane. “Maybe I should clean up first…”

    “You go do that,” Luna said with a smile, climbing to her hooves, “I’ll summon a maid to change your sheets.”

    “Thank you, Princess!” Galaxi called and trotted into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Luna stared at the door for several long minutes, before shaking her head slowly and donning a familiar knowing smile, one she’d seen on the lips of her sister many times.

    “The truth will find you soon enough, my apprentice.”

    The room was dark, even for a cave…

    Darkness spread in the center like a pool of ink, thickening and gaining mass. It ignored the chiseled rock walls as it slowly formed, the pool of shadow started to gain shape. First the claws, foreclaws with long and sharp and deadly talons, feline rear claws clicking on the rocky floor. Then the haunches and broad shoulders, followed by a thick barrel chest and long flared wings, all in an ebon black. Finally the head formed, the long beak made of the same black as his feathers and fur, so that the darkness was only interrupted by the glow of his slit turquoise eyes. After he paused for a moment to double-check that the chamber was truly empty and there were no witnesses, a broad grin crossing his beak as he stepped out of the tiny side chamber and into the aerie.

    His claws clicked as he walked, and he ignored the curious gazes from the gryphons he passed… upper caste birds, the lot of them; ignorant and selfish and ruthless all at once. Their gazes were appraising as he slid past them, where he paused to regard a half lit candelabra. He flexed a talon on his claw, and the final candles sprung to life. He glanced over his shoulder at the gasps, the tip of his claw still burning with a small flame, and he rakishly blew out. He smiled at the self-serving crows that thought themselves the true base of power for the gryphon clans, and they quickly found somewhere else to look. The dark gryphon chuckled to himself and continued onward.

    The halls he passed were far and away better decorated than the passages below in the aerie, but that is what happens when you stalk the halls of the upper caste of King Goldtalon’s aerie. Gold furnishings were everywhere, either plated or colored, it didn’t matter, the King liked to flaunt his status. And if that didn’t remind a gryphon, the bevy of heavily armed gryphons in suits of shiny mail and carrying heavy polearms would. Of course, the trio of said guards that made their way towards him seemed less enamored with his sudden appearance than the other gryphons had.

    “State your name,” one of the guards said in a gravelly voice.

    “Eclipse,” the black gryphon answered self-importantly. The charade and airs were just as important as actual rank.

    “Never heard of you,” the guard answered flatly. “You will be removed from the premises.”

    “And if I refuse?” Eclipse asked simply. The guards immediately leveled their spears at him.

    “That was not a request.”

    “Good, then I won’t feel bad about what I’m going to do to you…” he answered, a grin spreading across his beak. Fire leapt to life in his claw as he turned to face the trio of guards, who backed up a step.

    “What is the meaning of this outburst?!” a nearby gryphon demanded. He was well dressed, preened, and portly, but held himself with such a supreme air of self importance that it almost boggled Eclipse.

    “We’re removing a trespasser, Duke Silverthorn,” the guard answered, but Eclipse couldn’t help but notice the hint of disdain in his voice.

    “I don’t know, if he is the magus he appears to be, then he was about to turn the three of you into ashes,” the Duke noted.

    Eclipse smiled and dismissed the fire in his claws. “Oh, I could have done that, but I was thinking it would be more fun to melt the weapons in their claws… and while they’re desperately struggling to remove molten metal from their foreclaws, I’d melt the armour right to their flesh,” he stated in a voice that refused to belie any of the malice his words carried. Still, one of the guards balked and backed up another step.

    “Well, before we resort to that, why don’t you tell us why you’re here,” the Duke said, shifting his tremendous bulk as he stepped closer. Eclipse took an immediate dislike to this corpulent windbag, but at least he was asking, and might prove to be a useful pawn. He had assumed he would be able to petition for a bit of the King’s time, but gaining an ally might do just as well.

    “Well then, Duke Silverthorn was it?” Eclipse confirmed. “I was hoping I could borrow a few moments of the King’s time for a proposition I think he would enjoy.”

    “The king is busy,” the guard stated with ironclad certainty.

    “Yes, preparing how to attack the ponies when one of his trump cards slipped her cage,” Eclipse stated with a knowing smile. The guard frowned darkly.

    “Ah, we have been doing our best to keep that information under wraps, I fear,” the duke noted and paused to take a draw from the glass in his claw. Alcohol of some sort, Eclipse suspected, though the corpulent gryphon hardly seemed inebriated.

    “I had an inside source,” Eclipse noted with a broad smile, “but I would rather discuss this with the king himself. One trump card may have slipped from his claws, but I can offer an entire winning hand.”

    The duke seemed to consider this for a long moment, then turned to the guard, “I think this might be worth disturbing the King’s planning sessions with his generals, don’t you?”

    “No,” the guard stated flatly, his eyes never leaving Eclipse.

    “Well, I do,” the duke answered, “so send a runner to see if he’s willing to entertain this magus and his offer. Who should I say is calling again?”

    “Eclipse,” he answered with a magnanimous smile.

    “Eclipse then,” the duke noted, and took a long pull to empty his glass. “Well, don’t just stand there you featherbrained tinplated soldiers, get going!”

    The guard gave a low rumbling growl as he looked hard at Silvertalon, then at Eclipse himself, before turning on his claws and stalking away, taking the pair of guards with him down the hall. Eclipse followed them with his eyes, watching as they passed by the sconces on the wall and down a far plainer hallway than the one he was standing in. He was so focused on watching the guards leave that he was caught completely by surprise when the Duke slapped his shoulder companionably.

    “They’ll be back,” Silverthorn noted in a surprisingly sober tone, “but I hope your offer is worth it. Otherwise you, my friend, will learn how sharp those weapons are when they use them to impale you for wasting his Highness’ time, and I fear I’ll get a right earful as well.”

    “Oh, don’t worry,” Eclipse answered smoothly, “what I have to offer could win the war for him. Plus, once he recognizes me, he’ll remember who I am. We are old… allies.”

    “Well, here’s hoping!” the duke cried, and grabbed a drink for himself and his ‘new friend’ from a passing servant.

    For Eclipse, the wait was an interminable thing. The Duke was a font of information, especially while drunk, but Eclipse had to be extremely careful with what he said. The Duke had a habit of asking leading questions, pressing him to reveal more than he was ready to. Even drunk, Eclipse was forced to reassess the gryphon several times, each time realizing the Duke was far more savvy than he let on. Even his drunken antics were overplayed, revealing an almost disturbing capacity for holding his liqueur, as he pressed for more and more information in the most subtle ways he could.

    Eclipse, of course, was able to avoid these traps. He had spent a millennia in the body and mind of a Princess of Canterlot, thus he was familiar with these sorts of games and how to play them. Instead, he focused the conversation to other topics, which the duke was surprisingly forthcoming about. The King was all but molting after Filigree escaped, which Eclipse decided was a disgusting way to express rage, and was looking for every advantage he could. The Princesses had politely told him to take a flying leap with his wings tied when he demanded Filigree be extradited back to the clans, as expected. The “fact” that she killed the arch-duke (ironically his new “friend’s” late father) wasn’t having the motivational effect for the gryphon populace as was hoped. They viewed the death of the arch-duke with a rather blasé acceptance, rather than the bloodlust and fervor that had been expected and hoped for. All in all, the King’s intent to invade the Ponylands was starting to fray at the edges. Worse, the loss of Filigree apparently cost him one of his greatest potential spies in the field, despite having a claw-full of other spies already in place.

    When the Duke began going over the same information twice, just more slurred and less specific, Eclipse lost interest. The open hall where most of the upper caste gryphons tended to reside had mostly emptied out as the evening progressed, leaving them alone in the richly appointed hall. Even the Duke succumbed to the alcohol eventually, leaving Eclipse to wonder if his desire to be seen had been forgotten, either intentionally or accidentally. He was just resigning himself to having to wait until morning in the filthy, gaudy, meeting hall surrounded by servants so low in caste that they weren’t even worthy of his notice, when...

    “The king will see you now,” a gravelly voice rumbled behind him, and Eclipse turned with a half smile.

    “Ah, good, good. I was starting to think it would have to wait for morning,” he noted, climbing to his claws.

    “He wanted someone to take his frustration out on,” the guard rumbled with a dark smile.

    Eclipse chuckled softly to himself. “Yes, that does sound like him,” he answered, and fell in step behind the surly guard. Only one guard this time, who led him through that same stonework passage he noted from the hall, the decorations becoming far more sparse and businesslike in a hurry. There was light only because there needed to be. There were guards only because they were necessary. Everything had a purpose, and even the weapons on display were sharpened and ready to be drawn and used at a moment’s notice.

    Then, all at once, the room opened and spread out into the King’s chamber. It was at once regal and simple. The entire mountain-cap had been drilled out in a ring of archways that were easily double the height of any alicorn. While all they showed was the night sky and the crescent moon hovering above, the view of the Dragon’s Teeth Mountain Range must have been truly astounding by the light of day. Several candelabras rested at intervals about the perimeter of the chamber, and a large chandelier dangled overhead made of steel plated in gold. Eclipse couldn’t help but notice the chain attached to it and the marks on the floor beneath it… an indication that it could be dropped on a visitor at any time.

    Finally, at the only point not surrounded by an open archway, resided the singular throne of the King. Much like the rest of these chambers, it was a simple thing of heavy wood with an embedded crown resting on the top of it. Not every gryphon chose to wear their crown constantly, and it seemed that Goldtalon was one such individual, and left it mounted on the familial throne.

    “Well well, what do we have here?” the King asked as the guard faded into the shadows of the room. “A gryphon we’ve never seen or heard of strolls into my aerie and requests an audience with me. You’re damned lucky that I’m in a tolerant mood.”

    “What I heard is you’re looking for an excuse to string me up,” Eclipse rumbled in response, flexing a claw as he regarded him. “Of course, if you do that, you’d never know why I came all this way.”

    “You assume I care about the bleating of another damned sheep…”

    “Oh Prince, I thought you’d remember me,” Eclipse answered with a broader smile. “Admittedly, I’ve changed a bit since the invasion, but who else was able to provide the designs you now use with your guards? Who else gave you the plans for those leaf-tipped spears designed to redirect pegasus wings? Who else would be able to sneak in and ensure that your sister’s gear was sabotaged to give out at the most inopportune time? Who else would come now and offer you a weapon that could easily make up the difference in this little war you want to wage?”

    The king’s expression darkened, “Were you that individual, you wouldn’t need us to use that weapon; you have your own army…”

    “Had, Prince, had,” Eclipse sighed. “Much as you did, I underestimated the Princesses’ new pets. Now the imps are no longer mine to control, and I had to abandon my ‘Nightmare’ days in the face of needing to recover from yet another encounter with those damnable Elements of Harmony.”

    “You know much… too much.”

    “The question is, dear Prince, what do you plan to do about it?” Eclipse asked simply.

    Goldtalon frowned deeply and then snapped a claw. From the shadow behind him, a waif of a gryphoness, barely old enough to be an adult, stepped forward. Her eyes were blank, almost vacant, which told Eclipse she’d been broken of all free will in a way that bordered on complete magical wiping of her mind. She wore only a collar, a heavy golden one that indicated her owner was none other than the king, and had an oddly inverse color scheme to her, a tawny colored crest with a pure white body of fur and feathers.

    “Slave,” the king said flatly, “power up.”

    Eclipse raised an eye ridge as he saw the gryphoness’ eyes begin to glow a pure white, and felt more than saw the bubble of magic cross past him. It caused a powerful sense of disorientation that made the gryphon stumble drunkenly, clutching one claw to his head as he had to struggle to remain standing, his form flickering and wavering as the disguise spell was stripped away, his claw vanishing before his eyes as it turned into a hoof. He half turned, able to see the guard approaching from behind, but fell as another disorienting wave washed over him, his hooves tripping on the floor clumsily and crashing him down onto his side, chest heaving with the effort to simply focus his mind.

    “A pony spy,” one of the guards spat, and he surged forward.

    “Stop.”

    The guard barely stopped himself, the tip of the spear only millimeters away from the alicorn’s throat, the would-be victim’s head swimming so badly he couldn’t even lift it. “But sire…!”

    “Stand down,” Goldtalon stated, and waved a claw to dismiss the guard. “Slave, you may relax.”

    Eclipse gasped when the border of the anti-magic field retracted past him, and shook his head violently. He forced his way to his hooves, glowering darkly at the blank eyed gryphoness, pondering all the ways he could kill her. He barely tore his eyes away from her to look over himself, confirming the return of his “native” form. “Satisfied?” he demanded of Goldtalon.

    “Actually, yes, I am,” the gryphon responded cheerily. “I’ve wondered for a long time if Godkiller there could affect you, given your unique origin. I suppose we now know, and I have verification of your identity, Nightmare.”

    Eclipse forced himself to take a slow breath, pushing down the urge to kill the gryphon whom he hoped to use. “That name, as you can see, is rather inappropriate,” the stallion said simply, “instead I’ve chosen to go by Eclipse now.”

    “Eclipse…  Eclipse… I like it, it’s vague and mystic and still speaks of your desire to ‘eclipse’ Celestia,” Goldtalon answered with a smirk. “Too bad about the change though, you had such a fine flank in your previous form, especially when disguised as a gryphoness. Ah well… So tell me, Eclipse, what could you possibly offer me that would assist in doing what you have tried, and failed, to do?”

    Eclipse carefully ignored the jibe and answered, “Dragons.”

    “You wiped them out --”

    “I thought I had wiped them out,” the stallion interrupted. “It turns out they hid a clutch deep in a ravine in the Everfree Forest and protected it with a subtle web-work of spells. Only by chance did I notice the threads of this spell, and was able to track it to its source.”

    “Even so, why would these dragons help us?” Goldtalon asked dismissively.

    “That part is simple. Dragons suffer from a genetic defect that can cause them to react strangely to certain types of magic when they are young. By manipulating that, I can force them to grow, while at the same time stripping away their intelligence. They become no more than easily trainable beasts, already entering adulthood after but a week. I have a claw-full of gryphon exiles working with a small group right now, teaching them to hunt and how to obey orders,” Eclipse answered.

    “Gryphon exiles, huh? Dare I ask who?” the king asked, raising an eyeridge as he leaned forward on his throne, resting one claw on the arm of it. His grip was tight, he was trying hard not to show his excitement at the prospect, but it did not go unnoticed by the alicorn.

    “Ironically a small group you know quite well,” the dark stallion chuckled, “after all, the ponies ‘rescued’ them from you only recently.”

    “You can’t mean…”

    “Filigree’s parents and siblings,” Eclipse answered with a dark grin. Goldtalon couldn’t help but clap his claws together and laugh at that. “In exchange for caste rank, they would have sold each other back into slavery. They are so very easy to manipulate…”

    “A masterful stroke, I must admit. Alright, Eclipse, let us assume I take you up on this offer,” Goldtalon stated, getting off his throne and pacing slowly across the chamber, “what do you get out of it?”

    “If we destroy Celestia and Luna, I can simply take over the Ponylands. That leaves you with a friendly ruler in place over them, one allied with you and supportive of your goals. No need to expend your forces further to quell the inevitable insurgencies and attempts to fight back; I would simply force the ponies under my hoof, and you could reclaim your ancestral hunting grounds.”

    “You assume that’s what this is about?” the gryphon asked curiously.

    “It seemed the most likely possibility,” Eclipse answered with a shrug. “Admittedly, my own goal is far less nuanced than even that. I merely wish the destruction of the Sister Princesses.”

    Goldtalon paced slowly about the chamber, lost in thought for several moments. He paused when he stood before Godkiller once more, his claw forcing her head up until her blank gaze met his own. “I think we might have an arrangement. How long will we need to get a full force up and running?”

    “That depends on how many other trainers I can get to assist. The more trainers, the more dragons we can raise at once. The more dragons we can raise at once, the sooner we reach a suitable number to properly move against the ponies. I would personally predict approximately one month, assuming all goes smoothly and we can get enough gryphon trainers up and running,” Eclipse answered simply.

    The king nodded. “That sounds reasonable to me. I’ll start recruiting first thing in the morning. How long will it take to transfer everything over?”

    “Only a few days,” the stallion said with a grin, “I’ve been working with portal spells for just such a rapid transfer. So long as I can replicate the stasis spell on the eggs, everything should be fine.”

    “Then, I believe we have a deal,” the king grinned, “and I’ll even uphold your promise to give those idiot gryphons caste rank for their work. What better way to keep them in line than to gild the cage?”

    Eclipse glanced at “Godkiller”. “I couldn’t agree more…”

    “Clockwork, please…”

    The mare in question shushed the cyan unicorn sharply, her bloodshot green eyes refocusing on the glowing “eyes” of the helm before her. Its left eye fluttered slightly, winking out for just a moment before coming back up. The helm itself rested in the hooves of its creator, Clockwork Key, as she held it nose to nose with herself. Perfect square tiles blanketed the room’s floor, walls, and even the ceiling, making them the only things within the otherwise empty room. The layer of tile was interrupted only by a large door at the center of one wall, and a cylindrical charging station on the wall directly opposite it. Not that the room was empty, by any means, as the tiles over Clockwork’s head revealed, where they had shifted to one side to allow an array of flexible robotic arms ending in a variety of tools to hang down within easy reach of the mare. Many of those hanging arms presently supported the rest of her armour with parts of it suspended, like a three-dimensional model of the damaged sections.

    The khaki mare reached out and spun a hoof in mid-air, a move that anywhere else would have resulted in some funny looks, but in this room it served to activate a series of holographic displays that responded to her every beck and call, glowing a neon blue even as she swiped her hoof through a number of images that exploded outwards in all directions. Clockwork was nearly buried in them when she let out a triumphant cry, and the images were suddenly banished, replaced by a life sized cross-section of the armour, showing every relevant system in highlighted sections.

    “Clockwork, you’ve been going all day, you need to eat,” the unicorn pleaded, her silvery mane twisted and frayed with worry and concern as she watched the smaller mare pace about the image, the helmet riding on her back like a twisted trophy or pet.

    “Not until I’ve found it,” the mare answered resolutely.

    “Found what?!” Trixie cried in frustration, then paused for a moment to cover her face with her hooves and focus herself. “Clockwork,” she tried again, “you’ve been searching for ‘it’ all day, you need a break or you’ll work yourself to death!”

    “I have more stamina than that… besides, Mai will interrupt me when it’s time for a break,” Clockwork answered, looping about the image again.

    “Mai is dead, remember?” Trixie said softly.

    “She is?” Clockwork asked, pausing her pacing for a moment. “Oh, right, the chariot factory. Oh well, guess Widget will have to do it himself.” With a shrug, Clockwork resumed studying the details of the image, a touch of the hoof exploding a portion of the cross section outward.

    “Your brother is dead too,” the unicorn cried, “and unless you plan on meeting him in the Summerlands, you need to take a break!”

    “I’ll take a break when I find it…” Clockwork answered.

    “Find what?!”

    “What went wrong,” Clockwork answered softly, poking at the holographic image again to fold back up the section and expanding another one. “The armour wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t able to handle the stresses, and a pony died because of it…”

    “Clockwork, you did all you could--” Trixie started, taking a step towards the other mare, only to fall on her flank when Clockwork whirled on her.

    “It’s not enough! Something went wrong, and that needs to be fixed, repaired, or replaced! Bottle Rocket died because I wasn’t strong enough or fast enough! My armour gave out at the very moment it was most needed, and a stallion died because of it!” Clockwork shouted at the unicorn, stomping forward and forcing the unicorn to backpedal frantically. Then, just as suddenly as the anger appeared, it vanished, and Clockwork spun back to her work, leaving Trixie to watch her back with wide eyes.

    “I-it wasn’t your fault,” Trixie managed after several moments.

    “Yes, it was,” the answer came with such rock solid certainty that Trixie doubted she would change her friend’s mind any time soon. “I failed to save him. That makes it my fault, and now it’s my responsibility to find out what went wrong and fix it…”

    “Or replace it, you said,” Trixie finished for her. “Except all the systems are the best you’ve been able to create. You’ve gone over the causes of the damage with a fine toothed comb…”

    Clockwork snorted and looked to the armour standing in the charging station, the left side disassembled and exploded outward like a detonation frozen in time. “For all the good that’s done me. Aside from a few minor tweaks here and there, there’s nothing I’ve found that could be pinpointed as the root problem. The stresses on the chariot, which I’ll have to rebuild and reinforce to handle another ride like that, caused numerous feedback loops in the software. Most of them wouldn’t have caused a problem, but it did cause a feedback loop that caused an error in the internal power routing, pulling power away from the engines at a critical juncture.”

    “If you hadn’t pushed it so hard…” Trixie started lamely.

    “A simple reinforcement of the systems and compartmentalization of the software routines will fix that,” Clockwork answered with a shrug. “But it did what it needed to do, it got me here in time, thus it isn’t the primary problem.”

    “After you overrode all the safeties and limiters you installed,” Trixie sighed.

    “Yes, I had to push it beyond my design specifications, but I had theorized it might be capable of breaking the second Rainboom Barrier… apparently the engines couldn’t quite handle that, however.” Clockwork considered. “Not that it would have given me more than about 15 seconds extra time, the distance between the Northern Reaches and Canterlot is too short to truly hit those sorts of speeds and maintain it.”

    “Then why did you try to do it?” Trixie asked incredulously.

    “Every second mattered,” Clockwork stated softly. She poked another system on the holographic image, then glanced back to the helm as if seeking some sort of approval. Clockwork frowned, and promptly closed that system as well. Her hoof hovered over another as she closed her eyes, momentarily lost in thought.

    “Clockwork, you have to remain safe too! If you kill yourself, or your teammates, how can you rescue anypony?” Trixie asked. The khaki mare froze and suddenly looked to Trixie, her eyes widening. Trixie backpedaled a step, a shiver rushing down her spine from the look on her friend’s face.

    “If I kill myself… how can I save anypony?” the mare asked slowly.

    “Uh… Clockwork?” Trixie said worriedly. “That’s just an expression…”

    Clockwork shushed the unicorn again as she rolled the statement around on her tongue, emphasizing different words as she paced, her hooves making an eerie clopping sound across the floor as she did. Trixie watched carefully, at once wanting to say something and terrified of what the mare might say. She took a step carefully forward, one foreleg cocked uncertainly as she watched the other mare pace, her steps growing faster, almost excited.

    “How can I save any…? EUREAKA, that’s it!” Clockwork cried, clapping her forehooves together, “I can’t save anyone if I’m dead… that’s the faulty system!”

    Trixie gave the other mare a blank look, and intelligently asked, “Huh?”

    Clockwork rushed up to the unicorn, grasping her shoulders, “Don’t you get it? That’s the flawed component! It’s not the armour… it’s ME! I’m the broken part! I mean… sure I knew I wasn’t functioning at optimal levels, and this ‘condition’ you and Galaxi brought to my attention is the likely culprit, but that means I’ve been looking at this backwards! It’s not the armour that needs to be fixed, it’s me!”

    Trixie felt ice creep down her spine and carefully asked, “And that means… what, exactly?”

    Clockwork released the unicorn and spun about, laughing giddily, “That means I have to find a way to replace my part in the Armour. There’s a broken part, and it needs to be replaced!”

    “I’m not so sure we could just get one of the royal guards to pilot your armour…”

    “You’re approaching this from the wrong angle,” Clockwork said, grinning broadly, perhaps a bit too broadly for the unicorn’s tastes. “For one, I wouldn’t trust anypony else to pilot my masterpiece. And secondly, I need to replace my part, not create new problems. A new pilot would simply bring a new batch of new problems with them. Different reaction times, different tolerances, different issues and habits, and who is to say they would be any more stable than I? No, the part needs to be upgraded, improved…”

    “I… I’m sure the Princesses would help you practice,” Trixie said softly, but already certain that’s not what Clockwork meant.

    “It’s not ‘practice’ that’s necessary, Trixie,” the little mare answered with a positively wolfish grin, “it’s repair!”

    “Galaxi… well, we were trying to help you…”

    Clockwork stomped a hoof on the tile beneath her, causing all the floor tiles to ripple ominously, “You both admitted that I cannot be fixed, that I would be dealing with this my entire life. That’s part of what makes me broken!”

    “But you aren’t broken! You just need time to heal…”

    The khaki mare snorted, “Time isn’t a luxury I have.”

    Trixie blanched. “B-but if not that, then…?”

    “Repair it! Or perhaps replace it! Or both….” Clockwork rambled as she wandered back to the holographic image. A swipe of her hoof pushed it out of the way as she began to draw with her hoof-tip in mid-air. After several moments, it resembled a poorly drawn pony, which her computer cleaned up to the silhouette of a mare hovering before her. Clockwork immediately began to poke and sketch with her hoof on it, additions blossoming down the length of its back from the base of the skull on down, following the curve of the spine.

    “W-what are those?” Trixie asked softly, already dreading the answer.

    “Neural implants,” Clockwork answered simply. “Direct neural interface to the armour, removing the pesky feedback and internal switches, allowing me to plug directly into the armour and control it as easily as if it were a second coat.”

    Trixie cried out in horror, “They’re what?!”

    “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, as it were,” Clockwork continued, completely ignoring the panicked expression on the unicorn. A swipe of her hoof separated the silhouette’s head from its neck, which she promptly started drawing in requisite parts at the base of the skull and to the neck, as well as into the head where the brain resided. “Add some mental stabilizers and thought interpreters, and you remove that fallible pony element, all decisions are made purely on the information and logic known at that moment. Maybe I should replace part of this with a cybernetic computer… it would be more resistant to impact and the gravitational forces from high acceleration…”

    “Clockwork, please, listen to yourself!” Trixie shouted, rushing forward to grasp the smaller mare’s shoulders. Clockwork turned to look, bloodshot eyes reduced to pinpricks as she met the unicorn’s gaze. He smile was a parody, a rictus grin with the jaw clenched too tight and teeth grinding against one another. Trixie wanted to recoil in horror from it, from the other mare, but held on tightly. “You’re talking about replacing the parts of you that make you Clockwork and ripping out part of your own brain! You’ll kill yourself! You’ll kill everything that makes you worthy of bearing one of the elements!”

    Clockwork only somehow managed to grin broader as she answered in an eerily calm voice, “I’m already not worthy to bear my element, and a pony died because of it. Exactly how ‘loyal’ was I to him if I let him die?”

    “You didn’t ‘let’ him die, Clockwork, you did all you could to get here…”

    “And I failed,” Clockwork emphasized as she pushed herself away from the unicorn. “I failed the very task for which I was responsible for, and a pony died because of it… because of me. Don’t you get it? It’s my fault, and now I have to do everything possible to ensure it never happens again…”

    Trixie swallowed thickly. “B-but…”

    “…no matter the cost.”

    Going for a walk was far less relaxing than she anticipated.

    Maybe it was just the cool air, but the warm laughter she shared with the Princess seemed but a faint memory. The night had crept up on her as she walked, dropping the temperature even further as she let her hooves take her where they might, wandering without a goal in mind. She only barely saw and registered the roads she trod, or the ponies she passed. She occasionally stopped to allow a coach or chariot pass her by, but for the most part she was left alone with her thoughts and the night. She literally didn’t even notice as she passed through the glow of a neon light, or a pair of ponies trying to get to know each other better in an alley, or even the slurred proposition from some drunken pony stumbling his way home.

    Galaxi just stopped paying attention to the world around her, her hooves carrying her through the city she once sought to protect. Her mind was a million miles away, and her thoughts sour once more. Sure, she wasn’t cooped up in her room anymore, but she felt as alone right now in public as she did when holed up in her chambers in the palace. She considered briefly walking to the house they lived in as a team, but decided against it, she didn’t want to face any of her teammates right now. She just wanted to be another faceless pony in the crowd.

    Galaxi was not so unaware that she didn’t notice the pony slip in behind her, shadowing her steps. He was skinny, with long and lanky limbs, clad in a pullover hoodie with the hood pulled up to mask his features. Not that it bothered Galaxi in the least, she was even able to pick out the small stub of a horn with her special sight, but she opted not to confront him unless it became necessary.

    Fortunately, her concerns didn’t prove valid. The stallion peeled off at a popular club and slipped into it, completely unnoticed by even the bouncer at the door. Either he was a regular, or he was good at avoiding notice. For a moment, Galaxi considered tracking the colt down and asking how he did it, but decided against it and continued her nighttime journey, once more alone.

    The part that kept running through her mind, the part she couldn’t quite avoid, was what Luna so rightfully pointed out: Galaxi was jealous. That stuck in her craw in a way she couldn’t quite define, like a bit of lettuce stuck in your teeth. She couldn’t escape the fact she had been jealous, and acted jealous, about Clockwork and Bottle Rocket. And why not? It’s not like she wasn’t there first! She let Clockwork into her life, and Clockwork had proven up to the task. Despite some early missteps, where she stuck a hoof in her mouth by dismissing one of Galaxi’s concerns too brusquely, they had become fast friends. But now…

    Now she wasn’t willing to even try to come to the blind mare. Galaxi let Clockwork into her life, why wouldn’t Clockwork do the same damned thing? Clockwork shut her out instead, closing the door in her face no matter how many times she tried to nudge it open… locking her out. Then, to add insult to injury, she lets some stallion nopony ever met into the same door Galaxi had been pounding at for months!

    “It’s not fair,” Galaxi mumbled at no one in particular, lifting her head slightly. It took a moment to realize she had been slowly making her way back towards the castle, having apparently run out of places to wander, and had stopped abreast a park. A rather cozy little park wedged in between the business districts and the “diamond” district of upper crust ponies and their smug little mansions. For some reason, Galaxi looked into the park, the darkness in no way impeding her eyes as they searched over the nearby paths and grass, to an oddly flat lake with irregular edges. Irregular burnt edges.

    “So this is where you fell,” Galaxi whispered, taking a tentative step into the park as she let the realization wash over her. Her eyes fixed on the small pond, the water smooth as glass and easily revealing the blackened glass the explosion had created and now served as the bottom of the reflecting pool. In good light, it would be downright mirror-like, but to Galaxi it was just an oddly shaped pond with an ugly cracked black bottom. This is where it happened. This is where he took his dive and ended his life, dragging another pony down into the pit of despair with him. This is where the door she finally managed to work open was slammed closed and locked in her face. Right here.

    “You selfish bastard,” Galaxi growled, her eyes clenching shut. “You stole her, you stole her hope, and you stole the only chance we had to bring her back to us. You ended your life, but you also dragged another soul down into the pit of Tartarus with you, and you’re not going to let her go, are you? You’re going to hold on to her until she ends up like you, searching for a way to end herself, and you made sure there wasn’t a damned thing we could do about it…”

    “This is… this is all your FAULT!” Galaxi screamed, the lavender shade of her telekinesis flaring brightly at the star upon her forehead as she grabbed whatever was at hoof and flung it at the pool… then something else... and then another thing. She couldn’t even see straight when she telekinetically yanked up yet another item and hurled it with as much strength as she could muster.

    “Whoa!” a voice cried, and Galaxi’s eyes popped open. The silvery glow of telekinesis surrounded the object she had just hurled at the water, a sizable chunk of the brick wall that served as the entry fence for the park, and slowly lowered to the ground. “You could have seriously hurt somepony!” the voice accused angrily. Galaxi’s eyes glanced at the pool, realizing sheepishly that she’d hurled a good sized rock, a lamppost, and a bench into the pool even before grabbing the bricks.

    “S-sorry,” Galaxi stammered, when she belatedly recognized the voice. “Wait, Trixie? Is that you?”

    The cyan unicorn appeared from the darkness at the far side of the pool like a wraith, her horn glowing as she carefully drew the bench out of the pool, one side of it distorted. “It… it’s nice to see you out and about, Galaxi,” she answered in a tightly controlled voice, “even if throwing things into the local reflecting pool is hardly how I expected to run across you.”

    Galaxi blushed sheepishly and ducked her head. “I… sorry, I lost my temper.”

    Trixie sighed and fished the lamppost out of the water next and laid it gently on the side of the pool. “Trixie guessed as much,” the unicorn sighed as she slowly circled the pool towards her friend, “not that it does either of us much good to come here. He’s gone, and whatever Clockwork saw in him is tearing her apart.”

    “I know,” Galaxi answered with an uncharacteristic growl, grasping the rock she’d hurled in her telekinesis and yanking it out of the pool. She almost hurled it back into the water before she forced herself to take a calming breath and lower it gently to the ground. She realized it was one of the large stones used to mark the path almost belatedly; she must have ripped it up from the ground without thinking.

    “Well, you might as well join Trixie,” the unicorn said softly, “she’s all but ripping her mane out trying to figure out what to do about Clockwork Key anyway.”

    Galaxi snorted, “Clockwork can handle herself.”

    “Trixie is not so sure,” she answered and poked her hoof at the pool, watching the water ripple from it. “She’s… Trixie thinks she has really lost it this time. Not some little thing like we saw up north, but completely lost it.”

    Galaxi frowned, noticing a waver in her friend’s voice that disturbed her, even as she set the stone back where it should be on the path. Parts of her warred against each other, but much as she may be furious with Clockwork right now, her curiosity won out. “What is she doing?” she asked with a resigned sigh.

    “She… she’s trying to replace herself,” Trixie said in an oddly hollow voice.

    “What, like finding a new bearer?” the blind mare asked. “That might not be a bad idea…”

    “No!” Trixie cried, her eyes wild for a moment. “S-she’s talking about replacing parts of her body… mechanizing herself. She… she said she found the faulty part of her armour, where the failure came from, and she’s pinpointed herself! She was on about things I don’t understand in the least, but she was raving about ripping part of her own brain out and stuffing a computer into her head! She wouldn’t listen to anything I was saying, either. I tried to talk her out of it, to point out that it’s crazy; no-pony should do that to themselves... But she insisted that the broken part must be replaced ‘at all costs’!”

    Galaxi felt an icy chill run down her spine, but twisted a hoof in the dirt and grass to keep from letting it show, almost hissing under her breath as she forced herself to look away. “It doesn’t matter,” she said coldly, “she can handle it herself. She’s made it very obvious how she feels about me.”

    Trixie gasped, “G-galaxi? Come on, this, Trixie isn’t… I’m not kidding. I spent all day with her. She’s shut up in her lab, refusing to eat and fixated on replacing whatever broke when --”

    “When she tried to kill me!” Galaxi interrupted, shouting at the unicorn. “She ignored the fact that Flourish and I were almost killed when she drove that damned chariot right into the ground! She didn’t care about us; she was so fixated on some damned pony she only just met that she didn’t give a damn about her friends! Well maybe we should just be her former friends, and stop caring, because she’s obviously already done with us!”

    Trixie recoiled, her eyes wide as she stared at the usually mild tempered psychic pony. “B-but…!” she stammered.

    “But nothing,” Galaxi answered, turning away from the unicorn to stare across the pond, unable to truly see the reflected moon upon its surface. She pointed a hoof at it accusingly and said, “There’s your answer, right there in blackened glass and water. That’s what she cared about more than her friends, more than who tried to help her. I begged her for months to talk to me about her problem, to open up to me, and instead she goes and finds some stranger to open up to.”

    “But in the Northern Reaches…” the unicorn tried hopefully.

    “Yeah, the door opened just a crack and let me see in, get a glimpse of all the crap she’s been hiding from us. And then…” and she waved a hoof at the pond. “Boom, the door is closed again, and the pony I thought was my closest friend all but… all but tries to kill me just to get at some… to rescue some idiot who didn’t even want saving! He did this to himself! He didn’t want help!”

    “But…”

    “And now, now Clockwork Key doesn’t want help either,” Galaxi sniffled. “Well if she doesn’t want help, I’m done trying to force her to take it. She can do whatever the hell she wants…”

    “Galaxi!” Trixie cried, trotting forward to stand in front of the other mare, her hoof sounding on the stone the other mare just replaced. “You don’t mean that… you can’t mean that! You’re Clockwork’s closest friend…!”

    “Apparently not,” Galaxi answered, refusing to meet the unicorn’s eyes, “or else she wouldn’t have tried to kill me.”

    “You’re going to keep coming back to that, aren’t you?” Trixie asked softly.

    “Shouldn’t I?”

     “You weren’t the only one on board, Galaxi,” Trixie stated with a frown, pacing on the cool grass.  “Flourish was with you as well. And then there’s Clockwork herself… she nearly killed herself trying to get back.”

    “And your point is…?” Galaxi demanded in a hollow voice, staring at the pond with blank eyes.

    “Trixie’s point…” she answered, trotting up to Galaxi and using a hoof to force the other mare to look into her eyes, “…my point is that you’re fixating on one thing and using it as an excuse! Seriously, look at yourself! You complain about how she almost killed you, but she placed the same faith in her creation to keep you alive as she did in its ability to keep her alive. It’s not like she pointed one of those things on her hoof at you…”

    “So what? That doesn’t mean she didn’t try to…”

    “No, it means exactly that!” the unicorn insisted, pushing a hoof into Galaxi’s chest. “You are complaining about how she almost killed you, when that is not what is bothering you. I know you better than that. She trusted in her creation, once more, to keep you safe. Do you know why her armour was in such terrible condition, why it failed her when she needed it? I can tell you it wasn’t just because of her idiotic decision to break her way out of the canopy. The shield protecting her was cracking and starting to break, showering her with more and more debris the more she pushed. That front canopy was seconds away from shattering, which would have exposed her suit directly to the insane speeds she was travelling at. Now we both know she can barely handle a rainboom in that suit, and the first time she attempted it the armour burned out. Her suit could not even hope handle the stresses of nearly hitting a second rainboom, and the canopy protecting her was almost ready to give. The speeds at which she was travelling made even the smallest of fragments from that glass hit like a high powered shell, they were literally shredding her suit and causing massive amounts of damage before she even made it here to Canterlot. That’s why her suit couldn’t save him; because she pushed herself so hard she nearly killed herself! You and Flourish were safe as could be compared to that…”

    “Now tell me what the real reason is,” Trixie demanded.

    Galaxi’s jaw worked for a moment, pushing back against the hoof on her chest before the energy just seemed to drain from her, landing the mare’s flank on the grass, her eyes clenched shut. “I don’t know!” she cried back at Trixie, covering her face with her hooves. “I feel hurt and betrayed and angry and… and… and…”

    The blind mare shuddered, trembling in place as she sat upon the slightly damp grass, her head spinning. She wanted to scream and cry and hit something all at once, so it was a surprise when she felt the forelegs of the other mare circle about her, pulling her tightly into a hug. Galaxi struggled against Trixie for a moment, but her emotions overwhelmed her and she almost collapsed into it, the dam of emotions shattering into a torrent over Trixie’s shoulder.

    “It’s okay… shhh, it’s okay,” Trixie soothed softly, petting a hoof over Galaxi’s head.

    “I’m such a horrible pony…” Galaxi hiccupped a few moments later.

    “Why do you say that?”

    Galaxi waved a hoof at the pony-made pond they sat by once more with a whimper, “I keep getting mad at somepony who committed suicide. He took her from us… and she let him in for some reason.” Galaxi rubbed at her nose with a sniffle.

    “I won’t argue that part,” Trixie said softly, looking away. “Trixie came down here in the hopes she might get some inspiration, maybe from any leftover energies this Bottle Rocket had. Trixie is no ghost hunter or specialist, but I remember reading that suicides sometimes leave a ghost…”

    Galaxi hiccupped a laugh, and Trixie smiled gently to her friend. “Neither Celestia or Luna would allow any ghosts in Canterlot… you’d have to wander much farther from the seat of their power for a deceased pony to escape their notice.”

    Trixie made a dismissive sound and looked over the reflecting pool, “Like that would stop a good urban legend from getting started?”

    “I suppose…”

    “Look, Galaxi, I understand. This Bottle Rocket character did… something. I don’t understand it, but I think Clockwork saw a kindred spirit who needed help. With you around, she didn’t see me as needing help, and as gentle a soul as you are, you can protect yourself,” Trixie said, lifting the bricks with her magic and setting them back at the fence-line where they belonged. “I think Clockwork needed someone who was as vulnerable as she felt to open up to, and that’s why she never opened up to us.”

    “I… that makes an odd amount of sense,” Galaxi admitted, telekinetically grasping the bench to set it back where she vaguely remembered taking it from.

    “The problem is, now she’s lost him. She placed part of her identity, part of herself, into healing him. I don’t know if she ever could have truly healed him, but she wasn’t able to do it, and now she’s all but killing herself because she failed,” Trixie sighed, and contemplated the bent lamppost.

    “Is she… really looking to try and replace part of her brain?”

    “Oh Goddess, don’t get me started,” the unicorn groaned and stomped a hoof on the walkway. “She was talking about some sort of interface that would link herself directly to the suit, and then cutting out and replacing part of her brain so she can only make ‘logical’ decisions. I… I’ll admit I was so aghast that I couldn’t manage a coherent argument when she kicked me out of her lab.”

    Galaxi frowned darkly and leaned against her friend, eyes casting out over the newly created pool, the bright moon reflecting off her blank eyes, “I think, maybe, it’s time.”

    Trixie blinked. “Time for what?”

    “An intervention.”