Lero awoke to a soreness in his hands. The pain had stirred him from a pleasant slumber and, when he woke, his hands were throbbing with a dull ache. Nothing compared to the aftermath of Spike’s temper tantrum. This felt more like his joints were scraping up against each other.

‘I am way too young to be getting arthritis,’ he mused.

Lero tried to pull his arm out from under the covers, doing his absolute best not to disturb the sleeping forms next to him. Rarity murmured something in her sleep and snuggled into his back, a pale arm wrapping around his waist. Twilight was sandwiched between himself and Lyra, the two women holding onto each as they slept soundly.

Lero had a sudden sense of déjà vu as he quietly extracted himself from the bed and wandered to the wash closest. He saw a glass jar containing a faintly glowing toadstool and gave it an experimental tap. The mushroom shuddered and glowed slightly brighter, enough to coat the small room with gentle blue light. Satisfied, Lero turned on the sink faucet and ran his hands under the hot water. Lero knew from many days of fixing fences, installing cabinets, and giving firm massages, that joint pain could be alleviated with some simple remedies.

The thought made him chuckle. It now seemed like so long ago, when he’d just been a handyman and masseur in Ponyville. So much had changed since then. He had fallen in love. He had been on a few adventures. He had faced the Swap. Now? Now he had returned to a land that no mortal creature should ever see, let alone set foot in. If only the younger man who’d spent his days working odd jobs for a handful of bits could’ve seen himself today…

His musings were halted as his fingertips ran over his knuckles and a sharp pain hit him. He flinched and noticed that the skin had been split open. But there was no blood. Lero brought the glow lamp closer to examine the cut and felt a chill settle into the pit of his stomach.

The skin along his second knuckle had indeed been split open, as if he had punched a concrete wall. But instead of bloody flesh or even white bone, Lero saw something dark and shiny beneath it. This had to be a trick of the light, right? It was just blood. He ran in hand under the water again, rubbing his calloused thumb across the open wound to try was wash it away.

It didn’t hurt. He couldn’t feel anything there.

Lero withdrew his hand and ran his thumb across it again. It was warm and smooth like glass and black like the night. It felt like the whole back of his bulky hand held more of it underneath the pale skin. A horrible sense of morbid curiosity, a mad impulse that defied his rational mind possessed him. He watched as his free hand moved on its own, as if controlled by some invisible puppet strings, and took a piece of the splitting skin between thumb and index finger.

He pulled back his skin, at once horrified and amazed at the lack of pain, as if his skin covering his hands was nothing more than an obsolete coating that was ready to-

“No!” he shouted. Lero let go and the small piece of discarded flesh dropped into the copper sink, where it circled in the water before disappearing down the drain. His face was running wet with sweat and his eyes were wide, staring at his fogged reflection. He looked back down to see two unclenching fists.

Both with split knuckles.

Lero stared at his bulky hands and felt a dawning, maddening realization come over him: he was still changing. Whatever metamorphosis the Messenger had hinted at during the beginning of this whole affair had yet to run its course. And as Lero began to wrap his knuckles in white gauze, he stared down at his forearms and saw that they too had grown larger and thicker and he became fearful of what he may be turning into.

“I know what I saw,” said Twilight, her hands worriedly wringing her long locks. “Which is what scares me the most. This shouldn’t mean anything, but what if it does?” Twilight cast an uneasy glance down at her skin. Strange symbols continued to dance across it.

“Sparkle-kitten, I’m not sure what you mean,” said Rarity.

“Nothing here makes sense, the laws of magic and nature are different here, right? We’ve seen it from the start! So what if… what if divination is real here?”

Rarity had to stop herself from laughing. “Divination? As in seeing the future?” Despite her efforts, a smile threatened to break across her face, so she decided to hide behind her morning cup of tea.

The morning had found them all gathered in the common room for breakfast. No sooner had the first of them sat down at the table, a knock had come to the door. Lero opened it to find the same pixie from the previous night fluttering in front of him on her moth’s wings. Behind her was a small entourage of servants, short in stature and wearing concealing porcelain masks, each carrying steaming tray of food and drinks.

Breakfast was served with hardly a word from the staff, who had shortly departed in silence with a bow. The table had become host to large bowls of rice and noodles, steaming cups of soup, bamboo containers of hot dumplings, and plates of eggs and meat. While some of the food was recognizable by both human and pony standards, a few items were obviously of local tastes. Several brightly colored goblin fruits were served on ornate platters. Some were sliced or dipped in honey, others were served in the steamers alongside the dumplings. One platter held a collection of live grubs, which almost everyone spurned at first look, though Kyria was bold enough to pluck one with her fingers.

“You learn not to be picky in the wilds,” she had said before popping the tiny creature into her mouth. “Plus they’re not half-bad.”

Within just a few bites, it soon became obvious that almost all of the food was similarly strange… including the things which had first seemed normal. The dumplings were filled with an unusual-tasting cooked meat that neither Lero nor Kyria could identify. The eggs didn’t contain any yolk, but held a paradoxically tantalizing amber substance. The soup with filled with unfamiliar vegetables and sliced pieces of meat and tentacles from some form of sea creature.

In the end, Twilight, Rarity and Rainbow Dash resorted to using a few of the group’s Equestrian rations for their breakfast, daring only to drink the tea that was served to them. But when Rarity tried to bite into a bar of pressed hay, she quickly found herself spitting it out and descended into a coughing fit. Apparently, with their new human bodies came the same dietary limitations that Lero had exhibited. This left them chewing on a spoonfuls of mashed oats while the others felt confident enough to partake in the meal.

“Sensei once said, ‘The best way to understand the world is to view it through the stillness of another people’s meal,’” Lyra had said, as she slurped down another mouthful of noodles.

Luna had nodded her head as she gingerly held a spoonful of soup between her fingers. “Indeed, Dame Heartstrings,” she agreed. “Though I must say I find myself curious as to what the food before us might say of our hosts.”

Lero was wholeheartedly downing the food, a sense of nostalgia flooding his taste buds as he bit into the dumplings, fruits, and meats laid before him. A part of him was fearful at what memories the tastes smells could potentially dredge up from that dark pit in his mind the Lost so zealously guarded him from but another part of him simply didn’t care.

Those dumplings were really good, after all.

The meal had continued on in spurts of silence and small talk until Twilight had brought up the topic at hand. She hadn’t spared any of the details of what she saw the night before in her, well, “vision” for lack of a more rational term. And when she first proposed the remote possibility that she had stumbled upon some sort of divination, well, some of the reactions were predictable.

“But of course, there’s no such thing as divination, right?” Twilight was now roughly stroking her hair, the ends of which were threatening to split off as they usually did when she was under duress. “I mean, that’s just a scam carnival swindlers pull on gullible ponies to trick them out of their hard-earned bits. And there have been so many thoroughly-documented accounts of fortune tellers and oracles throughout history that are always debunked and modern science has proven that the future is always in flux because just observing something changes the outcome of it, unless it’s like that one time where I went back in time and things were fixed even though that could be explained by a temporal looping effect because I-”

“Twilight,” said Lero. He had gotten out of his seat and now stood behind the rapidly spiralling woman. A firm pair of hands were now rubbing her tense shoulders. Twilight’s eyes widened at his touch before drooping as she practically melted in her seat.

“Thanks,” she sighed. “I really needed that. But yeah, divination isn’t actually real. So I mean, I was just probably seeing things brought on by a mixture of endorphins from-”

“Let’s not go over that again,” said Kyria, raising one hand and pinching her brow with the other.

Twilight, once again slipping into her academic analysis mode, had been very detailed on the things she’d been busy doing at the time her vision had taken place.

“Right, um, sorry,” whispered Twilight, who blushed slightly.

Rainbow did her best to hide her own blush as she shoveled some of the oatmeal into her mouth with a pair of chopsticks. While Lero had sworn that the utensils were very common on Earth, some of the girls were having a hard time believing any creature would use such a thing. But then both Lero and Kyria aptly demonstrated their own proficiency with their use, which greatly amazed the Equestrian girls.

Lyra, always quick to adapt, then began to use her chopsticks like a pro. Lero had to marvel at her; it was as if she was a human soul reborn into a pony’s body sometimes.

Kyria plucked a dumpling from the steamer with her own chopsticks and began to pull it apart. “But yeah, you’re right, Twilight,” she said, giving her food a quick puff of breath to cool it before popping it in her mouth.

Twilight visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed. “You have know idea how much I wanted to hear that. I mean, the fact that this place actually has something in common with home-”

“Emm, no, I meant-” Kyria swallowed her mouthful of food. “No, I meant the other thing: divination does exist here.”

Twilight just stared at the horned girl like she had grown a second head. “...What?”

“Yeah, it’s totally a thing here. Fortunetelling, oracles, fate, the Wyrd, all that stuff. It’s a huge part of what makes up this place.”

Twilight continued to stare in disbelief, he mouth moving on its own as she tried to fully comprehend the implications of what was being said.

“But… how… no, it’s…”

“Hey, remember what you promised,” came Kyria’s stern reply, undermined by a cheeky smile. “No freaking out!”

“But how-”

“Look, I don’t know exactly how they do it. I know that Fate plays a huge role here. It has to do with promises and contracts and your word. It’s what fuels everything here. When you give your word, you allow the Wyrd, the magic, to manifest and it’s…” Kyria slumped, shaking her head. “...It’s really, really complicated.”

“I don’t understand much more of it, myself,” admitted the Lost, when Twilight turned a pleading look in his direction. He resumed his seat and began to pour himself another cup of tea. “I do know that sometimes the Gentry will keep oracles. Divination has even been known to suddenly manifest in others at random... like they were exposed to some germ in the air. Like a side effect.”

“A ‘side effect’?” said Rarity disbelievingly. “Headaches are a side effect, good sir. An upset stomach is a side effect. I would hardly call the ability to tell the future a ‘side effect’.”

Twilight was staring down at the table, her mind still reeling from the implications being discussed. ‘This isn’t right,’ was her frantic thought. ‘This CAN’T be right! None of this could really be happening, I can’t tell the future or see things like that it’s not right!’ Her heartbeat was becoming more erratic as she started to quietly hyperventilate.

Lyra saw this immediately and reacted. “Twilight,” she said gently, passing her a cup of tea. “You need to calm down. Drink some of this.”

Twilight mutely nodded her head, silently thankful of Lyra’s stillness. She reached across the table to take the offered teacup, her fingers brushing Lyra’s-

The symbols on her skin flared. Her eyes glowed. She saw white, then-

“-rry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

Lyra was curled into a tight ball under the blankets of the hospital bed, the bed sheets doing little to hide her trembling. Lero was crouching down next to her, clasping her hoof between his two hands. Seeing the normally calm or smirking grandmaster in such a state broke his heart.

“Lyra, it’s okay,” he whispered. He ran his thumb in little circles along her fetlock.

“I’m sorry,” whimpered the unicorn.

“It wasn’t your fault. We all knew what might happen if we tried. These… these things happen.”

“I’m sorry…”

Lero climbed into the small bed, ignoring the medical equipment and the bed’s creaking protests to his added weight. The human wrapped his arm around the mare he loved and held onto her. Lyra began to sob louder as she clinged to him like a life raft and buried her head in his chest. Soon enough the shirt he was wearing was soaked through with tears.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, holding onto to each other for dear life in the silence of the sterile room. The only other words spoken other than “I’m sorry” were-

“Our baby,” whimpered Twilight. Everything stopped around her.

“...what did you say?” whispered Lyra. Her impassive mask was threatening to shatter.

Twilight, her eyes still completely white, stared down and held a trembling hand to her belly. “I-I lost… the b-ba-”

“Sparkle-kitten?” asked Rarity.

Twilight blinked, a set of tears running her cheeks as her eyes returned to normal. She blinked again as focus returned to her and she was staring up at Lyra.

“Lyra,” she whispered, her voice hitched. “I saw…” When the tears spilled anew, she flung herself forwards, nearly toppling the other woman. “Oh Lyra! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” The rest of the group simply stared as Twilight started to sob into Lyra’s shoulder. “It was my fault! I should have done better, I shouldn’t have pushed the issue, I-”

“Twilight, what-?”

“I failed, it’s all my fault I made you lose the baby!”

For a long moment, nobody said anything. Even Kyria was stunned into silence. Lyra was slow to move but eventually wrapped her arms around the crying woman, offering quiet shushes and soothing strokes. Twilight seemed to calm down after a few moments, her trembling form relaxing under Lyra’s gentle touch.

“Twilight,” said Lyra, “what did you see?”

“I saw you,” she said, not bothering to look up, “and Lero. It was that night in the hospital, just after Dr. Heart Monitor…after he told us…”

“Shhh… it’s okay, Twilight. That was a long time ago.”

“But I-”

“No ‘buts’. I knew the risks. We all did. I forgave you a long time ago. Besides, there will be plenty of opportunities to try again when we return.”

Lero felt his heart go out to them. For as long as they all had been a herd, Twilight had been determined to try and find a way for him to conceive children. It was something they had all wanted, even Rarity after the Swap. Lero would catch her eyeing baby shop windows whenever they went into town or she would be extra attentive whenever they passed another family with a foal in a stroller. Everytime they did, Twilight always considered it extra incentive to try and find a means for them to also become parents.

While hybrids were not unheard of in Equestria, their births were almost always assisted by some sort of magic, such as a fertility spell, an ancient artifact, even transmogrification.

Even then, hybrids were exceedingly rare enough that Twilight had needed to dig very deep in the archives for concrete information. But nothing had ever worked on Lero. They could not conceive naturally and his resistance to Equis’ magic had meant that he may never have been able to have children of his own.

But that had not deterred Twilight in the slightest. She had tried several times before to use magic on herself or one of the others. The last attempt seemed to work out and a pregnancy took. But then... inevitably…

“Twilight,” said Lero. Twilight looked up into Lero’s hazel eyes. She felt the warmth behind them and the gentle smile he bore. That warmth spread throughout her heart as she reached out to hold his hand. Her fingertips brushed the bandages around his knuckles to grip-

“-ther for your scalpel, Herr Doktor.”

Lero was strapped down to a bloody operating table, his arms spread-eagled. His clothes, long since shredded by the thorns, had been stripped, leaving him naked and scarred. New wounds, some freshly weeping and others scabbed over, joined the ones on his back and arms. Angry purple bruises spotted along his torso next to long, red marks left by a lover’s fingernails. Spittle foamed up around the leather gag in his mouth as he tried in vain to struggle out of the bonds. The light above him was blinding.

“Zis one certainly has spirit in him, ja?” came another voice.

“It is one of the reasons he caught my sight,” answered the first voice. It belonged to a woman, cultured and graceful, and it carried with it the sound of shattering glass. Lero tried in vain to look towards it. Despite everything, he felt compelled to look upon that beautiful face again. But with the strap holding his head in place and the blinding white light above him, all he could catch a glimpse was her pale hand as it stroked his face.

A fire ignited inside him at her touch and his struggles halted. Then a face appear above him, silhouetted in that harsh light. He saw her hair as it moved around him in a waving, pastel-colored rainbow. She smiled and when she did, he could feel something begin to scrape at the surface of his mind, trying to claw its way in.

“I wonder… are you strong enough?” she whispered. “Will you become my knight?”

And then she was gone, the light once again blinding him.

“You may proceed, Herr Doktor.”

And the fear returned to Lero. Another figure approached. Tall, skeletally thin, its pallid and noseless face covered in a scarlet stained medical mask. The table under his hand began to shift and reform. Lero’s fingers were pierced by metal hooks and spread wide. The tall figure reached upwards with a spindly arm and pulled down some sort of tool from an unseen apparatus. It looked like a syringe connected to a long tube that fed to some sort of quietly roaring container. The tube was filled with some sort of molten and glowing substance that radiated enough heat for Lero to feel even at a distance.

Lero redoubled his efforts but his arm would not move. He began to yell into the gag. The tall figure held the syringe in its spindly hands, secreting a single drop of the substance that landed on the table with an angry hiss. Even with its mask on, Lero knew its face was split with an unnatural smile. It regarded him with empty, black eyes behind its goggles.

“I do so enjoy my vork,” it said, then stabbed the burning needle into Lero’s arm, depressing the plunger. Lero screamed, his body arched as molten fire spread throughout his-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!!” screamed Twilight.

“Twilight!” shouted Lyra as her lover fell to the floor, screaming while gripping her right forearm. Once again, Twilight’s eyes had gone completely white as they stared in wide horror at her arm. To the rest of the group, there appeared to be nothing wrong with it, but the way Twilight was staring at it and screaming, it might have well been on fire.

“Stop it!” cried the violet woman. “Make it stop!” She began to dig at her skin with her fingernails, trying to remove whatever was lurking beneath the surface and burning her from within.

“Twilight!” shouted Luna, who rushed to her side. “Listen to me! It’s not real! There is nothing wrong!”

“Get it out! Get it OUT!!” cried Twilight again.

“Lero, help us!”

Lero was completely still, a hand gripping his head as a pain shot through his skull. His teeth were grit as his right hand balled into a tight fist. Brief but very intense images flashed through his mind and waves of fear, helplessness, and pain crashed over him like a storm. He could feel the alien presence of the Lost deep within him battling to rise to the surface, to guard his waking mind from the siege of pseudo-memory assailing his sanity.

“Lero!” shouted Rarity.

There was a resounding *pop* that pierced the chaos in the room, followed by more, in rapid succession. Rarity stared in horror as Lero’s forearms began to bulge and shift as something moved under the skin. Lero gripped his arm like a vice as the transformation wracked him, producing a series of gruesome popping and snapping noises, his hand spasming as it too was caught up in the metamorphosis. He fell to his knees from the pain and the images that assaulted his mind in such terrible clarity. The bulging shapes under his skin had grown into something that resembled segmented plates, traveling all the way up his arms to the neck and jawline. The transformation halted just shy of the plates splitting his pale skin.

“Oh sisters,” whimpered Twilight, who was held tightly by both Lyra and Rarity. “I saw… Oh Lero, what did they do to you?”

When his eyes opened again, it was the angry blue eyes of the Lost that stared out at the others. Twilight felt herself flinch under his gaze, aptly reminding her a large predator. The Lost slowly withdrew his hand to take in the latest changes to his body, running a hand along his forearm. The thin layer of flesh did little to hide what was beneath; the affected areas now took on a grayish tone, with particularly thin areas becoming darker. These areas gave him an unnerving corpse-like appearance.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he asked, voice layered with an undercurrent of anger.

“I-” stammered Twilight. She shifted a little bit, almost trying to hide herself from the Lost.

“You saw how Lero was remade,” said the Lost. He looked her right in the eye and Twilight saw a hurricane building behind those icy orbs.

“It wasn’t her fault,” said Lyra firmly. She repositioned herself so that she stood squarely between Twilight and the Lost, between her herd and the threat. The two squared off against each other, the air between them thick with a choking, miasmal tension.

A loud slam on the table sent several dishes clattering and spilling, shattering the tension and returned everyone to the present.

“Well, then, now that I have your attention,” said Kyria. Both the Lost and Lyra were stunned into silence as Kyria began rummaging through the bag she had just so forcefully placed on the table, loudly and deliberately clicking and clunking its contents as she searched for something. “Let’s see. This?” Kyria pulled out a seeming random object before chucking it over her shoulder. “Nah, that won’t help. This? Nope, it’ll turn someone to stone. Maybe this thing? No. Maybe — oh, I want to save that one!”

Luna gave the horned girl a subtle smirk, seeing the woman’s distracting tactic clearly.

“Ah hah! Here,” said Kyria. “This should help, I think.” Kyria knelt in front of Twilight with a piece of cloth in her hand.

“What is that?” asked Twilight, eyeing the article with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Kyria smirked. “Your first lesson of Goblin Trinkets 101, egghead,” she said. “You are about to make your very first contract.”

“...with a headband?”

Kyria fixed Twilight with a deadpanned stare. “Just roll with it.” Kyria started to tie the headband in place for her. It was made of a large metal ring, similar to the ones the horned woman wore in her hair, with two strips of cloth sewn to either side. The cloth was covered in more of the curious curvilinear writing Twilight had seen back at Kyria’s hideout and at the circle of stones when they first entered this world. As Kyria tied the cloth strips behind her head, Twilight felt the heavy weight of the ring.

“Is that lead?” she asked.

“This,” explained Kyria, securing the headband with a solid knot, “is something I picked up to help me hide. Well, I had hoped it would help me hide. Turns out it wouldn’t do much for me, seeing how I have nothing to give it.”

“Huh?”

“This is called a ‘blindband’. It’s infused with the ability to blind scryers from using their powers to find you, no matter how strong they are. They’re ‘blind’ to you, so ‘blindband.’”

“It certainly sounds like a useful tool,” commented Rarity, giving the thing a quick once-over. “I can see why you would want such a thing.”

“Well, there’s a catch. To make other diviners blind to you, you have to become blind too. Not literally blind, I mean magically blind. You can’t scry as long as you wear it. And since I can’t actually do any scrying, it became about as useful to me as a souvenir from a Metallica concert. Still looks pretty awesome though.”

“So in a sense, we’re using the downside to our advantage,” said Twilight, nodding her head in understanding.

Kyria gave a sly smile. “No one can break the laws of a contract without some serious shit happening. Doesn’t stop anyone from bending the fuck out of them though.”

“So… is it working?” Twilight wrung her hands nervously.

“Well, no. You have to activate it first.”

“Okay, how do I do that?”

“State the terms and agree to them. It does the rest.”

Twilight sat in the chair with everyone looking at her, feeling like she was on the butt end of a poor prank. She felt ridiculous. Making deals with clothing? It just didn’t make any kind of sense to her rational mind.

“Um… I,” she stammered. “I give up my divination powers? So… make sure that no one can use theirs on me. Um… Please?”

Nothing happened. Aside from her own growing sense of foolishness.

Kyria’s palm met her brow with a small slap. “No, not like that. You need to mean it.”

Twilight nodded her head. “I trade my divination powers to protect me from others’ own powers.” She spoke with a bit more spirit, but it yielded the same result. “Ugh, this is ridiculous. There’s no such thing as-”

“Okay, fine. Have it your way.” Kyria promptly stood up and began to roughly untie the headband, prompting a small cry from Twilight as her hair was being pulled. “Let’s see how far you get in marketplace with that. Oh but I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all, there’s no such thing as divination, or magical objects or-”

“Kyria, please,” begged Rainbow. “She needs this!”

“Well, obviously she doesn’t. Miss Know-It-All here seems to think that none of this is real. Hey, here’s a thought? Maybe it isn’t! Maybe this is all just a dream, and if you click your heels three times, and wish really hard, then-”

“Kyria,” said Rainbow. The horned girl stopped her tirade and gave a sigh. She pinched her brow with her fingers, muttering to herself.

Rainbow came up next to Twilight. “Twilight, this is really important,” she said. “You have to do this.”

“But it doesn’t make-”

“That doesn’t matter,” interrupted Dash. She motioned widely with a free arm and said, “Look around you! We’re in another world! Things are different here, none of the rules are the same! We’re in a swamp that never sees the sun. We walked through a short tunnel to get here from a forest full of monsters. We came to this world through a puddle! We’ve both been transformed into humans, for goodness’ sake!”

“Transmogrification-”

“So what makes you think that a magic headband is so ‘out there?’ Remember Trixie and the Alicorn Amulet? What about the Elements of Harmony?! They’re magical!”

“But you don’t make deals with them!”

“We had to find out our connection to them before they worked. That’s kind of like making a deal.”

Twilight wanted to argue further, but Rainbow’s point had struck a chord with her. It was only after Twilight had accepted her ties with her new friends and their roles with Elements did the artifacts finally manifest themselves. There was some precedence for all this.

“Okay,” she said, defeated. “I’ll… give it another try.”

Rainbow smiled and looked at Kyria. They horned girl stood there, arms crossed, with a displeased look on her face. Rainbow silently mouthed the word, “please”. Kyria rolled her eyes with a loud sigh and began to reaffix the headband onto Twilight, giving her a serious look.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

Twilight nodded her head. “I-”

“I’m being serious here, princess,” Kyria interrupted. She affixed Twilight with a harsh stare, her amber eyes flashing. “This isn’t just some little party trick like the ones you did back home. When I infused you with glamour back at the hollow to hide your old magic, I tied you to the Wyrd. This is the raw stuff of creation here and it ties down to your very core now. So when you say the words, I don’t want to hear any doubt or half-assing. I want to hear it from the bottom of your being. You gotta pull those words from the very core of what makes you you and fucking mean it.”

Twilight nodded hesitantly, greatly intimidated by Kyria’s words.

“So do it.”

Twilight closed her eyes. Taking a page from Lyra and her martial arts mastery, Twilight steadied her breathing. She blotted out everything around her. The sounds in the room dulled to faint background noise. Focusing only on herself, she tried to envision herself connecting with her new power.

It was strange, yet oddly familiar. Before,when she wanted to cast a spell, she would envision the spell and then focus the flow of her mana into her horn. Over the years, it had become second nature to her.

At this moment, she focused not with her mind, but with her heart. She envisioned something deep within her; a presence, a light that was connected to something far greater than herself. It was something that tied her to a great tapestry that wrote its own rules and allowed those tied to it to rewrite reality on a whim. For the briefest moment she envisioned power beyond any she had encountered before, intertwined with others like her a level beyond what any pony could experience.

She spoke the words aloud, not to herself or anyone else in the room, but to that source of power.

“I freely give up my second sight,” she said, her eyes glowing brightly. The words moved past her lips were hers but not her own at the same time. “Take it so that those that would see me with their Sight shall be as blind as I, as long as I wear this band as a sign of this pledge.”

Something moved within Twilight Sparkle and she instinctively knew an agreement had been made.

A Contract had been forged.

The others watching her saw the center ring of the blindband light up and glow a pale green. A ghostly violet eye opened in the center before becoming cloudy and finally disappearing.

Twilight blinked her eyes a few times as her vision returned to her. She was greeted with the stunned looks of her herd and the satisfied grin on Kyria’s face.

“Not bad, princess,” said the horned girl. Twilight let out a long breath and gave everyone a tired smile.

Rarity looked questioningly at Kyria. “Will we have to do something like that as well?”

Kyria shrugged, her grin never leaving her face. “Probably,” she said. “Everyone has a different experience. But you should be very careful. You don’t want to go making promises with anyone or anything just out of the blue. Think of this one as a little demo, just so you all know how contracts go and what’s involved.”

Rarity nodded her head as she idly played with a strand of her misty hair. She thought back to the night they stayed in the frozen swamp because of Old Mossbeard. When she had seen the spriggan dangling both Lero and Luna in its branches, she she been filled with such anger that she would have struck the great tree with one of her lightning bolts. The strange thing was... she had almost felt as if she could. And later on, when she was under Lero’s gentle caresses, it was more than just his touch that sent electricity racing across her skin.

Rarity wondered, with her new form and apparent connection to the Wyrd, had she somehow regained a connection with the weather? Or at least ‘forged’ a new one with Lightning in particular? Without even realizing it? Staring down at her hands, she wondered what she could do. It certainly felt like something was there, a distant but firm connection with a force that was greater than herself.

But that’s what troubled her: that fact that this strange power was already there and no bargain had needed to be made in the first place. Like she had inherited it.

Like it was her right to have it.

‘But what is it?’ she mused.

She looked around at the others. Lyra, whose hair looked as if she were suspended in water. Was that a sign of her potential connection with water? Luna, who retained her wings and starry beauty… could she still be connected to the heavens? And Rainbow Dash, as well, whose antennae twitched subtly as she discussed these possibilities with both Kyria and Twilight excitedly. Did Dash still have a tie to animals?

Rarity’s eyes eventually drifted to her sweet prince, who was examining his own hand. The strange growths under his skin shifted slightly when he opened and closed his hand, the skin growing taut as the slightest move.

What about Lero? His was not truly a new transformation, if the Lost could be believed, but a reversion to an earlier form. He had once been ‘something else’ before escaping to Equestria. He’d had his own, older ties to the Wyrd. Were those ties still binding and valid after such a long absence from this world?

‘And just what had he used to be? This thing he was he changing back into? Mossbeard had called him something. ‘Ridire’? What did it mean?’

There was a sudden knocking at the door followed by a small voice. “Excuse us, honored guests,” it said. Rainbow opened the door and the same pixie girl from the previous night flittered into the room on her moth wings before landing on an end table. She crouched down onto all fours and bowed low, touching her head to the wood. “This one hopes that the honored guests did enjoy their first meal and found the rooms to their liking.”

Rarity smiled. “Of course, my dear,” she said sweetly. “Everything has been delightful.”

The pixie took this as a sign to raise her head. “This one has been bidden to tell you that a boatman has arrived to take the Lost to a meeting with Master of the Town.”

Rarity nodded again. “Then would you please wait outside while we prepare?”

“As the honored guests wish,” said the pixie, and with a flutter of her wings, flew out into the hallway.

Rarity shut the door behind her. “So we all know what we are doing then?”

Kyria nodded. “I’ll take Dash, Lyra, and Twilight to the market,” she said as she slung one of her packs over her shoulder. She then handed Luna one of the reshaped swords. “I redid the enchantment this morning. You should be good until night-cycle. I’ll take the other one and see if we can find a smithy that can do a proper job.”

“My thanks, Kyria,” said Luna, affixing the blade to her hip.

“While we’re in the market,” said Lyra, “we should try to keep an ear open. If anything and everything really is sold here, then that means someone might have some information we need for a price too.”

Twilight gave Lyra a confused look. “How would you know something like that?”

Lyra gave a carefree shrug. “I wasn’t always an upstanding citizen of Equestria, Twi,” she replied with her enigmatic grin.

The Lost chuckled, his deep voice reverberating in his chest. “Right then,” he said. “Luna and Rarity are coming with me to this meeting. Hopefully, this will be just an uneventful sit-down to discuss things and we can coax some information out of Mr. Gilded Jack.”

“Do we have a Plan B in case things get bad?” asked Kyria.

“Make your way back here as quietly and quickly as possible. We plan from there.”

“Why do I get the feeling,” the horned woman sighed, “that we are making this shit up as we go?”

The Lost gave loud bark of a laugh and reached for the door. “Because that’s how the best plans are made!”

It was one of the tallest buildings in the city, a wooden monstrosity that towered over its neighbors. The Lost, Rarity, and Luna spotted it almost immediately when their gondola turned onto the grand canal. It stood out from the rest of the city, a massive white-painted structure that was surrounded by a ring of smaller, under-kept buildings. Rarity had the impression that this placement was intentional, as if to exaggerate the opulence of the structure and its owner’s wealth.

The sentiment was reinforced as their gondola drew closer and Rarity was able to pick out the details in the building’s facade. White marble columns that were ornately carved beyond the skill of any artisan she had heard of, with delicate golden lattices and jewel-encrusted designs covering the outside. From the times she had spent in Canterlot, not even the most decadent of the nobility flaunted their wealth quite like this.

‘I should not be surprised given the way he presented himself yesterday,’ mused Rarity. She recalled the jeweled rings, golden cane, and gold teeth the goblin sported. ‘But seeing this gaudy display is just… disgusting.’

Like the Knurly Wyvern, there was a large, circular dock underneath the main structure, where they were greeted by servant; a biped wearing fine silken clothing, an opulent masquerade mask, and a thick black collar with a golden ring. The being’s bright pink skin showed from between the articles, its green hair tied into ornate braids. Rarity noted the pair of pointed ears.

“Welcome to the house of Master Gilded Jack,” he said with a bow. “My master welcomes you three as guests in this house. Know that no harm shall befall you from the master or the staff while you stay within these walls.”

The Lost nodded in return. “And we three shall perform no ill actions against your master in return,” he said, again adopting the roguish and carefree persona from the gate yesterday. Both Rarity and Luna felt a stirring within them, a surety that they were now bound to this promise the Lost had made.

Had this been what Kyria and Twilight had meant when they said that one’s word bound them to something greater than themselves?

The servant, who seemed satisfied with this response, turned on his heel and led the group to an elevator cage. The cage clinked and clanked its way up on a set of four metal arms that grasped at the bars with sturdy metal hands.

If the exterior was excessive, the interior was a hundred times worse. Polished marble floors, gold leaf paint, and furniture and artwork that would have bankrupted a large province. Luna felt herself grinding her teeth as they were lead along a hallway past more and more pointlessly extravagant rooms; one held nothing save a single vase on a pedestal, another held a pile of gold, and yet another had a collection of statues of humanoids. She felt a shiver run down her spine as one seemed to follow her with its eyes.

On the opposite side of the hallway was a row of windows overlooking the rest of the city, the surrounding slums in particular. The intention was clear. ‘Look at the little insects as they rummage in their garbage heaps. How far above them I am.’

Luna resolved that once they returned to Equestria, she would conduct some serious investigations into the Noble Court. Some trends there were disturbingly universal.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, the servant knocked as a set of large, ornately carved doors. “Enter,” came the muffled reply, and the doors were opened.

It was an office, just as opulent as the rest of the manor and filled with countless golden and bejeweled objects. The group had a sudden flashback to Kyria’s humble Hollow and her own collection of trinkets.

“Ah, The Lost One!” said Gilded Jack. Setting down a teacup and plate, the goblin rose from behind a desk and waddled over to shake the Lost’s hand. He still wore the same fur coat and sunglasses from the day before. “So good of you to come, sir, and precisely on time! Commendable indeed.”

The Lost gave a toothy grin; his own canines seemingly having grown overnight into small fangs. “Hey, when you deal with my crew, Jack, you get what is promised,” he said.

“Always an excellent trait for someone in our vocation,” spoke another voice.

Rising from one of the plush chairs in front of Jack’s desk was a newcomer. Tall and broad-shouldered, his skin was a dark chestnut. His silver hair was tied into a braided ponytail. Four pointed and bony protrusions sprouted from his forehead, giving the illusion of a crown. He wore a long leather coat that reached down to his knees and fit snuggly on his muscled frame. The man’s eyes, a blazing golden color, focused on the Lost, sizing him up as an opponent.

“Ah, this is Simon Thornewhip,” Jack told the Lost. “He is also here on business. I’m hoping the three of us may come to some mutually beneficial agreements.”

The Lost reached out and shook the man’s hand. That brief moment of contact told him a wealth of information. This man was dangerous. Whatever else he may be, this was also a being of violence. The strength of the grip, even through the white gloves Thornewhip was wearing, told the Lost that he was a skilled combatant. The way his eyes sized up the Lost, taking note of posture and detailed appearance, revealed that he was also experienced in recognizing other threats. And as Thornewhip squeezed his hand, the Lost noted the talons that each of Simons fingers ended in.

‘He appears refined, but not overly so like Jack pretends to be,’ thought the Lost. ‘That comes naturally to him. But that beastial appearance, that killing instinct I sense from him, that confidence… ah, I see. That’s dragon’s blood in those veins.’

“Good to meet you, Lost,” said Simon. His smile was guarded, no doubt coming to his own conclusions about the Lost. A glance to the side shifted that smile to that of a predator. “And who might these lovely visions be?”

He stepped over to Rarity and offered a hand.

'A dragon attracted to Rarity’s beauty…' No. The Lost refused to start seeing similarities between this man and Spike.

“I am… Sophia, Mr. Thornewhip,” Rarity introduced, extending her hand.

“Charmed, my dear,” said Simon, his voice like richly oiled velvet. He bent forward, bringing Rarity’s hand to his lips, his golden slit eyes never leaving hers for a second.

“Oh my,” breathed Rarity, as she felt the blood rise in her pale cheeks.

The Lost clenched his fist so hard that he could feel the skin peeling again at the exposed knuckle.

As Simon Thornewhip turned to Luna, the transformed alicorn looked him over appraisingly.

“And what might this stellar belle be named?” he asked suavely.

Centuries of time on the battlefield and at court had given Luna enough experience that she could reach all the Lost’s deductions at a mere glance. And seeing how he acted with Rarity, Luna had come to her own conclusion about him.

“Astra,” Luna stated, cold as the dark side of the moon. Simon’s smile faltered and he went quiet. Good.

This man was a viper waiting to lure prey to it.

“Oh, Miss Sophia,” gushed Gilded Jack. “I thought I recognized you from yesterday. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Jack offered his own kiss to her hand, which thoroughly and utterly extinguished any fluster that had risen in Rarity. “Might I inquire as to your presence at this meeting?”

“Oh I am Lord Lost’s representative in negotiations such as these, Master Jack,” she said with a smile. “While he does a fine job leading our band on assignments, he is always sure to leave the trivial matters of the business to me.”

“Oh, a wise man, I see,” said Jack. “I can see why you keep her around, eh?”

The Lost put an arm around Rarity’s waist and pulled her close. “One of many, pal,” he said. The words were to Jack, but the Lost’s glare drifted poignantly at Simon.

The look said one thing. "Mine."

Thornewhip’s grin was a clear reply. “For now.”

“Fine glasses here! All sizes and strengths!”

“Potions! Toxins! From ailments to poisons and everything in between!”

“Fresh dreams and lovely nightmares! Come on, loves, I have waking moments that will leave you all screaming!”

“Junk! Rubbish! Only the finest detritus at my stall!”

Twilight stared agape at the display before her. Merchants hawked their wares; criers called out proclamations of bargains and goods from exotic locales; buyers haggled and bartered over everything from jewelry to garbage. Beings of every shape and size, on two legs or more or none at all, moved about them in a sea of bizarre and otherworldly life.

Dash pressed close to Kyria, unnerved at the great crowd in front of them and the noise permeating the air. “So, uh,” she said nervously, “where to first?”

Kyria patted Dash on the back. “Wherever we need to be,” and with that, she strode forward confidently into the river of foot traffic.

Lyra and Twilight stayed close for fear of getting separated. Kyria navigated the streets with surprising ease, pausing to allow larger beings past and nimbly ducking down alleys to avoid large groups. Every now and then, they would pause at a stall, where the merchants would either chat them up or peer at them disinterestedly.

“Ah, here you go, miss,” said one merchant. He extended a frost-covered arm to Kyria, a bottle of dark liquid in hand. “This little gem was taken from-"

"From the most dangerous corners of the Far Reaches, blah blah blah," finished Kyria. "Look, pal, you're not the first one to try that. I know for a fact that there's a well of this crap nearby, not even out of eyesight of the town."

The merchant's face scrunched up in disapproval, small pieces of ice falling from his frozen eyebrows. "Well, this lot-"

"Are we going to deal or do you just want to keep slinging bullshit around?"

The merchant growled. "Fine. What do you have to trade? I take trinkets, memories, or favors."

"Trinkets," said Kyria. She cleared a small section off the stall's table and overturned one of her smaller bags. An assortment of random objects clattered on the table’s surface. Twilight watched curiously as Kyria arranged them in some order that she couldn't understand.

"Hmm," mumbled the merchant, picking through the piles with an extended finger. Movement caught the ponies' attention as ice formed around his right eye, taking the shape of a jeweler's lens. "I'll trade you the Thorn in the jar, the... oh, is that sphinx hair?"

"You know it is."

"Very well then. That, and this bog stalker's talon."

"I'll throw in a canine and a bicuspid if you also give me that jar of pyron paste."

At this, the merchant raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? That stuff isn't for children."

"Do I look like some greenhorn to you, pal?"

"Ha! You have spirit, I'll grant you that. Okay, you have a deal." The items were exchanged; trinkets to be bartered and trinkets bought placed in separate bags.

As they continued along down the alley, Twilight came up next to Kyria. "So," said Twilight. "How exactly did that work?"

"Hmm?" hummed the horned girl. "Do you guys not have bartering anymore back where you’re from?"

"Well, we have the Rainbow Falls Traders’ Exchange, which is the closest equivalent we have to this Goblin Market. It's an annual event held by Rainbow Falls where ponies-"

Lyra coughed loudly at the mention of the word. Twilight nodded her head in understand, sending a silent apology to her herd mate.

"Where people gather from all over to trade. No money is involved though. The only rules are that all trades are fair and final."

"Huh, guess some things are universal."

"Constants and variables," chimed in Lyra. "So does it work the same here, Kyria?"

"Depends. What do you guys consider a 'fair trade'?"

"Well," said Rainbow, antennae flittering in thought, "it honestly depends on whatever the two po-people involved consider ‘fair’ to be. You could trade something that would normally be expensive for something that's not."

"So," said Twilight, "is it the same here?"

"Kinda," said Kyria with a shrug. "Sometimes we don't trade objects."

"That merchant said he accepts memories," said Rainbow. "Did he actually mean...?"

Kyria nodded while tapping her head with a finger. "As in your actual memories. I once watched some old geezer trade his memory of the taste of strawberries for a set of enchanted gloves."

"Strawberries?" repeated Twilight in disbelief.

Kyria nodded again. "Sometimes they ask for other things: your first kiss, a cheerful song, a nightmare you once had as a kid, the face of your most or least favorite teacher, stuff like that." She counted off each example on her fingers, Twilight growing more fascinated by the moment.

"So they copy-"

"No, not copy. Take." Kyria's face became suddenly stern, her eyes flashing a glowing amber. "I have few enough memories of my own, good or otherwise. I intend to hold onto them as long as I can. I refuse to give them up for anything."

"So, wait a second," said Twilight, pulling the group into an alley and out of the foot traffic. "Let’s say I were to trade my memory of how strawberries taste to someone else. Isn’t that an easily replaceable commodity, though? I mean, all I’d need to do is just get myself another strawberry, or anything strawberry-flavored for that matter, and I’ve got the memory back!"

Kyria shook her head, a sad smile on her face. "No," she explained, "because you're not just trading the memory of it. You're trading the actual taste of it; your taste of it. Even if you eat a strawberry afterwards, it won't taste like anything. Just a mouthful of bland... stuff. After all, what's the point of trading the memory in the first place if you can just form another? When you trade your memories, you just give up that sensation forever."

"That's why you've collected so many trinkets," said Lyra, with her trademark smile, her golden eyes full of understanding. "Something tells me in a place like this, memories are worth a lot more than a bunch of glass baubles."

While she listened to Kyria, Twilight’s eyes trailed over the merchandise on the counters of the stalls they were passing.

“I’m noticing that the people here are far more willing to market damaged goods. Even for a bartering system, that seems like a bad business move. Like… look at that one!” She pointed at a particular gadget. “I have no idea what that thing even is…!”

“Dehumidifier,” Kyria identified.

“...But even I can tell it’s broken beyond any hope of usability! Couldn’t they at least make an effort to repair some of their stuff? Or is this just some strange cultural insanity at play here?”

Kyria let out a laugh. “Cultural insanity… ha! It doesn’t happen often, but there are times you manage to be downright adorable, princess!” The horned woman finished her laugh, then said, “Yes, there is some ‘cultural insanity’ to this… and a lot of things, as well! But there’s method to the madness too. Follow me.”

She led the Equestria women down a narrow alley, dropped her bag, and started rummaging through it.

“Knew there was a reason I hung onto these,” she muttered to herself, in a low, excited tone. “Perfect object lesson… knew I’d be able to use it on somebody, someday!”

“Uh… Kyria? Are we gonna be alright?” Rainbow asked, anxiously glancing back and forth between Kyria Ama and some hobs just outside the alley, unsure whether to be more nervous about curious onlookers, or whatever Kyria was about to pull out.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, you’re fine!” The horned woman brought out a pair of old wristwatches, holding each by its strap in either hand. “Can you guess which of these is more valuable?” she asked Twilight.

The wristwatches were sized for a regular adult human like Lero, and were of absolutely identical design. But the one in Kyria’s left hand had been very carefully preserved to the point of looking to be in fine condition, in spite of its obvious age. The watch in her right hand had a worn, stained, scratched strap. And the crystal covering over its clock face had several cracks.

“In Equestria or Earth, this one would be worth more money, no contest,” said Twilight, pointing to the watch in Kyria’s left hand. “But I suppose here, this would be more valuable,” she said, pointing to the damaged watch.

“Oooooh, we’d better watch out! She’s learning!” To this, Twilight gave a great eye roll. “Now, can you tell me why it’s more valuable?”

“Cultural insanity.”

Kyria Ama only smiled. “Hold this in your hand and count to ten,” she told Twilight, giving her the undamaged watch.

Twilight did as instructed. Nothing happened and she handed the watch back to Kyria.

“Now the other one,” said Kyria, giving Twilight the other watch.

Twilight Sparkle held the broken timepiece by its clock. Feeling more silly than curious, she counted upward once again.

“...Seven, eight, nine…-”

Yehven Nikanorovich Yefremov glanced at his wristwatch, seeing it was 12:09.

Methodical and systematic man that he was, Yefremov momentarily stopped his current task to go over to his calendar on the wall. First he crossed off the thirty-first date of what was now the previous month before turning the page to the new month they were now in: September of 1935.

Then Yefremov sat back down at his typewriter. Police files on that Trotsky-loving dog, Musabekov, were by his right elbow. He looked back over at the document he had just begun writing.

“I, Gavril Konstantinovich Musabekov, fully confess my guilt for the crime of disseminating seditious, anti-Bolshevik propaganda throughout…”

Yefremov had just typed in the words ‘the village of Kharkiv,’ when a knock came on his door.

“Your coffee, Commissar?” asked that new secretary of his.

“Set it on the table,” Yefremov told her. She moved in and out of his office at a fast pace. Perhaps she’d downed a few cups herself. Some people just couldn’t function without coffee. People like him. Late night work was nothing new to Commissar Yefremov, after all.

He took a long drink of coffee. Minutes later, Yefremov’s stomach was a seething cauldron of agony. It felt like it were about to explode inside him like a child’s balloon.

He fell, and heard a glassy crack as his arm struck the floor. He only had a few seconds to writhe in pain. Yefremov’s last coherent thought was about his secretary. She bore a noticeable facial resemblance to that one Stasova woman, whom he’d written a confession for about three months ago. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

-Twilight Sparkle dropped the damaged wristwatch as though it had given her a mild electrical shock. Kyria snatched it in the air before it could hit the ground.

“So you saw it,” said Kyria.

“Saw it?” breathed Twilight. “I tasted the coffee.”

Rainbow Dash and Lyra were fixing her with curious eyes. She quickly told them about what she had seen, as best she could.

“Is this another prophetic vision of some sort?” Twilight wondered aloud, holding a hand to her forehead and fingering the headband. “Is this ‘Yefremov’ person someone who’ll be important to us?”

Kyria scowled at her; apparently Twilight’s antics had stopped being ‘adorable.’

“He’s just some long-dead Ruskie,” she snapped, “No more ‘important to us’ than Yakov-goddamn-Smirnoff!”

Then Kyria took a deep breath.

“Look, let me try explaining this to you in plain and simple English. When an object’s seen a lot of use, a lot of wear-and-tear, when its owner has been through severe experiences, it picks up ‘memories.’ An object that is either brand-spanking-new, or has been shut in a drawer forever, unused and never even taken out of its plastic packaging… doesn’t pick up memories. With me so far?”

Twilight and all the others nodded in fascination.

“Everyone, everywhere, touched by the Wyrd… me, you, that one-legged wino you don’t remember us walking past… we all have the ability to ‘gain’ these memories from objects by holding them. Memories are a very precious commodity to us. Why? Because of the Thorns.”

Kyria turned away, seeming to gaze out to the vast far yonder.

"You haven’t been here long enough to appreciate just how absolutely choked with Thorns this ‘world’ is. The Thorns try their best to tear pieces off of you. You learn really quickly to hold onto what's yours. You'll never get any of it back, otherwise. But if they do snag you enough times, or pierce you deep enough, if you lose enough of yourself to the Thorns, you’ll want anything to fill the void you’re left with. You’re like someone that is always hungry, always eating, but never ever satisfied.”

Then Kyria Ama laughed a laugh that set all her Equestrian friends’ hair on end.

“The amnesia, alone, is bad enough, but what really makes it hellish is... Twilight, remember we were just talking about losing the ability to remember how strawberries taste, even if you eat a new strawberry? Imagine that applying to all food. Everything you eat tastes like nothing. Imaging taking a big ol’ whiff of the air, and there are no smells. Imagine trying to listen to music or read books…”

“Stop it!” cried Twilight in total horror.

"The Thorns just don't take your memories. They take what makes you you. They take your soul." Kyria put the watches back into the bag and shouldered it. "That's how bad it can get, my friends. Any memories are better than utter, everlasting blankness. Even those of Comrade Yehven Yefremov will do.”

"Would any of you care for some refreshments?" Gilded Jack motioned to a cart carrying a dozen or so glass containers, each one holding a myriad of liquids.

"No thank you, sir," said Rarity, putting on her most winning smile. 'I don't drink green,' she added silently. She also remembered the Lost's warning of accepting food or drink offered to them.

Jack gave her a knowing smile, his golden teeth glinting in the light. "Very well. Let's get down to business." Jack poured himself a drink, some sort of black liquid that filled the air with a foul odor. "I had already filled in Mr. Thornewhip on my intentions." He nodded towards the other man, who raised a metal flask in acknowledgement. "I shall extent the same courtesy to you."

The Lost nodded his own head. "I assume that you wish to make a business arrangement with my patroness," he said.

Thornewhip gave a chuckle. "Well, aren't you a sharp one," he said. "Positively razor-like."

"You are indeed correct, good sir," said Jack. "I intend to foster relationships with both the Lady and Mr. Thornewhip's own patron."

"On what terms?" asked Rarity, assuming the role of scriber.

"I shall provide both with wealth and goods that they would undoubtedly find beneficial to their own agendas, and in exchange-"

"'Agendas'?" interrupted the Lost. "And what could someone like you possibly know about the Gentry's agendas?"

Jack's grip seemed to tighten on his glass. Again, the Lost could hear a faint grinding sound from the goblin. "A poor choice of words," he said. "What I meant to say was... that the arrangement would benefit your patrons in a number of ways-"

"And another thing, what would make you think that the Lady would even be willing to bargain with you?"

"Well, I-"

"Now, now, Lost," Thornewhip chided, sounding amused. “Let’s leave the cross-examinations to the litigators and the heroes of pulp mystery novels, shall we? Such boorish drolleries have no place in such a refined, palatial locale as we find ourselves occupying. Why not listen to what the good hob has to offer?"

"Indeed, my Lord," said Rarity. "Best not to dismiss an offer before the terms are even offered."

The Lost cast her a wayward glance before waving his hand. "Well, you are the one that handles the business side of things."

"Thank you," said Jack, annoyance clear in his voice. "As I was saying, I would offer both your patrons access to high-value wares. Gladesrest lies at a crossroads, making it a key location for trade, as you are no doubt aware." Jack walked behind his desk and sat in a plush chair. "I would offer them prefered access to some of the most valuable and rarest goods the Far Reaches have to offer.

"In exchange, I humbly ask that I have a place amongst their courts."

The Lost raised an eyebrow. This was... surprisingly mundane. After his past experience amongst the Gentry — especially in dealing with the insanity of Fae warfare and the machinations of the Lady's court — to think that the hob wanted a simple trade agreement? He could practically see the goblin drooling over the prospect of new wealth and power. But these were petty — dare he say mortal — wants. This hob was chasing something that was more commonplace among the so-called elites of Canterlot or Earth. A part of him felt... strangely disappointed at this development.

"It pains me to have to interject," said Thornewhip, snapping his fingers to get their attention. "but I'm afraid that such an arrangement would be unacceptable to my Lord."

"Unacceptable?" said Jack, his hairy eyebrows raised. "On what grounds, sir?"

"On the grounds that my Lord would not wish to sully himself with the prospect of having to share his resources with... lesser beings."

"Lesser beings?" repeated Jack.

Simon Thornwhipe cast a long and pointed look towards the Lost. "My Lord would take up your offer, on the condition that the arrangement would grant him exclusive access to your wares."

"So," said the Lost, "you only want in on the deal as long as the girls don't get to play in the sandbox."

"How eloquently articulated, Lost. But, yes, my patron has no interest in such things."

"Mr. Thornewhip," Jack started, attempting a diplomatic smile, "I'm sure we could-"

"I'm afraid that the Ebon Lord does not bargain, hob. If you accept my offer, you shall be rewarded as befitting a creature of your status."

"Why, you pompous-" In his outrage, Gilded Jack knocked his drink over. The black liquid spilled all the way to the center of their table.

"Then, Master Jack, I think that we can come to an agreement," said Rarity. The conversation came to a halt as everyone in the room stared at her.

"What are you inferring, my lady?" inquired Jack.

"It seems to me that a being such as yourself would rather make connections with multiple members of Gentry."

"Indeed."

"Therefore, I propose this,” Rarity reached over and refilled Gilded Jack’s glass herself. “Should you choose to ally yourself with our patroness, you would also grant yourself access to not only her court, but to additional connections with her other allies."

Jack nodded his head in thought. "Very well, my dear Sophia. This offer is indeed tempting."

"Well," said Rarity, "we would first have to see exactly what your town has offer. After all, it would behoove us to enter into such an arrangement without being fully aware of what we stand to gain."

"And you should not be so quick to dismiss my own offer," warned Thornewhip. "I can assure you, that an alliance with my master would be greatly more beneficial than whatever paltry connections you could scrape together in the Lady's court."

"And why would you claim such a thing, Thornewhip?" asked the Lost.

"Because the Ebon Lord is not someone to cross." Simon stood straight, the air around him becoming heavy. Thornewhip's eyes glowed a dull orange, a pair of smoldering embers that precluded an inferno ready to be unleashed.

The Lost stood up, meeting Thornewhip's eyes. His icy orbs roiled with their own power, the knowledge and experience of a thousand battles and the promise of blood spilled. The air itself seemed to spark as the two wills clashed together. Luna found herself reaching for her sword as Jack seemed to edge towards his desk, no doubt to raise some hidden alarm should blood be shed.

"Oh, enough of this," said Rarity who firmly planted herself between the two men. "Now we came here to discuss this like civilized beings, not to quarrel like a rabble of filthy Hedgefolk."

Once again, Rarity's action brought the room to a standstill, the tension in the air dissipating.

"Now then, Mr. Thornewhip, I would hope that you have more to offer than some thinly veiled threats. Many would claim that they ‘should not be crossed,’ but few can back up such words with real power, especially power that can compare with that of our patroness."

She then turned towards Gilded Jack. "And I can assure you, master goblin, that there have been many that have tried to scheme their way into My Lady’s court by vowing to give her the sun, moon, and everything in between. Only once they find themselves at her door, it turns out they have nothing more to show than a pocket full of empty promises."

The goblin found himself sputtering at the accusation. "Empty…?! Why, you air-blooded trollop! I am Master of this town! I control everything here! Do you dare doubt my word?!"

"The only thing I don't doubt here is that you must be grossly exaggerating what you have to offer." She cast a glance back towards Thornewhip. "What either of you have to offer."

Gilded Jack slammed a fatty fist into the desk. "I control the flow of goods throughout this entire city! Artifacts, information, dreams, memories, slaves and more! You would be greatly remiss to reject anything that I have to offer."

Thornewhip seemed to be taken back by her words but quickly composed himself. "And myself and my crew are the most successful privateers in the Far Reaches. And if you would be so bold enough, or just foolish enough, to doubt that my Lord-"

"Oh, what do you or your master have to even offer, drakeling?" spat Jack, looking ready to smash something. "If I had a doubloon for every time one of your kind tried to muscle in on me with threats, I'd be richer than I am three times over and the canals would be choking with their corpses."

At this the Lost stood up and stretched his arms, flexing his fingers with a series of audible cracks and pops. "As entertaining as these theatrics are, Jack, I have to agree with my advisor," he said. "So far all you have to show for it is a bunch of promises that we aren't even sure you can back up. And you, Simon, how do we even know you're any good? What proof do you have?"

Jack set down his glass so sharply that the crystal threatened to break. He took a moment to straighten his fur coat and adjust his sunglasses. "The Lost brings up a fair point. While the reputation of the Lady of the White Spires is well known, I honestly have never heard of this Ebon Lord before and, therefore, I must agree with Madame Sophia. However, I must also concede that perhaps a better showing of what I have to offer the Lady is in order. To that end, I would invite you, Lost One, to accompany me on a tour. To show you exactly what I have to offer."

Thornewhip ground his teeth together, a low growl rumbling deep within his chest. But before he could speak, Rarity once again interceded. "Mr. Thornewhip, I would like to see for myself exactly what you have to offer as well. If Master Jack’s not willing to… ‘play ball,’ shall we say, then perhaps you and I might strike our own deal?" Rarity came close to the privateer, putting on a face that instantly held his attention.

Simon gave a quick glance behind Rarity at the Lost's icy blue eyes, narrowing dangerously. A cocky smirk formed on his own face.

"Milady, your keen business savvy is matched only by your refinement, grace, and beauty. I feel that nothing would delight me more that to enter a mutually beneficial arrangement with you, in a private one-on-one rendezvous.”

When Rarity smiled coquettishly, a bolder thought seemed to strike Simon Thornewhip.

“Then again, must it be one-on-one? Sophia, perhaps you would be also interested in meeting the members of my crew, as well? I assure you, they would all love to make your acquaintance. They are a stout-hearted, stalwart bunch, and would be equally appreciative as myself to learn what assets you bring to the table.”

“I don’t see why not, Mr. Thornewhip,” answered Rarity.

“Please… call me ‘Simon,’ Sophia,” said Simon.

As Simon placed a muscular arm around Rarity's shoulders, there was a subtle *rip* in the room as several of the Lost's blackening knuckles tore through the bandages around his hands.

"Very well," said Jack, rising to his feet and grabbing his cane. "I propose that we adjourn for the time being to cool our heads and take proper stock of the situation. I shall escort the Lost on a tour of the main warehouse, while Mr. Thornewhip escorts Madame Sophia — as well as one of my associates…”

The Lost didn’t miss the brief, small scowl from Simon.

“...to have a look at the Ebon Lord’s wares. Afterwards, we shall reconvene to bring this to a civilized and mutually beneficial conclusion."

Both the Lost and Thornewhip shared a glanced and agreed. As they all left, the Lost took Rarity to the side by her arm.

"Okay, first off, nice work back there," he said. "That was some really skillful diplomacy."

Rarity tittered behind a raised hand. "Oh think nothing of it, darling."

"Second, are you out of your mind?! You want to go off alone with that guy?!"

"You heard Simon’s boasting. 'The most successful privateers in the Far Reaches.' Even if he’s huffing a lot of hot air, he and his lackeys might have some useful information regarding what happened to the girls."

"Indeed, ‘Sophia,’ tis a most risky ploy," said Luna. "I would no further trust that serpent than I could throw him."

Rarity crossed her arms, smiling. "I wouldn't worry, ‘Astra.’ If Kyria's demonstration this morning taught me anything, then we can use the situation to our advantage."

"How so?"

"Recall how we promised not to bring harm to the Master of the House, nor to those inside, and in return, we were promised to be afforded the same. It is safe to assume that everyone who comes through those doors is also made to make that same promise… or at least those that Jack deems to be a potential threat do. Without a doubt, this would include Mr. Thornewhip and his crew.”

Luna and the Lost nodded at Rarity’s logic.

“So, if Mr. Thornewhip were to go against his word, he would find himself at the mercy of our host. And Gilded Jack seems like the sort of fellow that would not stand for violence under his roof, unless he is the one inflicting it." Then she tilted her head in thought. “Come to think of it… Mr. Lost, isn’t it true that in this world, breaking a promise is as good as jinxing yourself?”

“‘Jinxing,’ is putting it mildly,” the Lost told her. “Not living up to your word can result in all sorts of dreadful consequences. Instant death, complete lucklessness, a horrible metamorphosis or some form of living damnation.”

Rarity smiled. “In which case, Gilded Jack will be the least of Simon’s worries.”

The Lost stood there, mouth agape. 'And to think that I thought she would have trouble adapting to how things work here,' he thought.

When Rarity turned to leave, she felt a hand on her arm to turn her around again. She found herself looking into Lero's hazel eyes. "Rarity, wait," he said, his voice hushed. "I still don't trust that guy. I..." He sighed heavily. "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

Rarity paused a moment before giving a quiet laugh. "My darling prince," she said, "you have nothing to worry about. You know that I have dealt with many a stallion trying to get one thing or another from me long before you found your way into my heart. And do you know what I have learned?"

When Lero shook his head, Rarity leaned in close to kiss him on the cheek, then whispered into his ear, "It's that most men are easier to manipulate that my clouds, my love."

Lyra leaned against a wooden pillar, simply watching the market go by. Despite the otherworldly nature of the people that occupied its streets and stalls, Lyra felt a certain amount of nostalgia. It reminded her of her travels to Equis' other nations, particularly the markets of Saddle Arabia. The city of Baaahrain, where she had studied new meditative techniques, was at the crossroads of several trading routes, creating a mashup of different cultures; from the many tribes that inhabited the vast deserts, to merchants traveling from distant Xin Cha and Neighpon, the Minoan Republic, the Gryphon Empire, or Equestria itself.

The end result was a melting pot, a wonderously chaotic mix of cultures, languages, and foods from around the world. In that regard, Gladesrest reminded her very much of the same.

'Though this place makes Baaahrain's bazaar look like Ponyville’s market in comparison,' mused the grandmaster.

Across from her, a group of rough and muscular looking beings, "ogres" if she remembered correctly, were egging on a comrade who was strapped down to a chair. A bizarre creature, one that seemed to be a man shaped mound of pinkish flesh that was covered in white scales, worked some kind of disturbing ritual. The thing grasped a pair of pliers in a pseudo-tentacle appendage, and with little to no warning, grabbed the prone being and yanked out one of its jutting tusks. The ogre bellowed a howl of pain and anger, much to the amusement of its companions, who were throwing their own jabs in some sort of guttural language.

The white-scaled being then examined the tooth with its eyeless head before burbling some comment Lyra couldn't understand, which prompted a joyful outburst from the whole group. The creature then placed the tusk onto a bare piece of its skin. Lyra realized with a sudden and nauseous understanding that the creature was not covered in scales but rather thousands of teeth.

It then took the same pliers and removed another tooth from its own body. The new tooth, a jagged canine of some sort, was then placed just above the hole in the ogre's mouth. It started to vibrate with an audible hum before leaping out of the pliers’ grip and into the vacant socket. The ogre bellowed again as the new tooth shrank and reshaped itself before finally settling into the socket, its size now that of the ogre's original tusk, giving the ogre a slightly mismatched maw.

The ogre was released from the straps and achingly worked its jaw in discomfort before receiving several slaps on the back from his comrades and good-natured punches to the shoulder. Further words were exchanged between the groups before they parted, the ogres no doubt to buy their comrade a stiff drink to help ease the pain.

Interestingly enough, the whole display was neither the strangest nor the most entertaining thing Lyra had seen that day. No, that right fell to the moment that Twilight discovered a strange book vendor.

“Rainbow, look! Books!” The librarian found a gold mine of them in the form of a small, rundown bookstore just off the main street. Poorly lit and filled with shabby carpets and bookshelves, it would have been easily overlooked save for the few books put on display in the window that caught Twilight’s eye. Once she saw the fantastic covers featuring humans, she was up against the window like a foal in a candy store.

Twilight begged to be let in, much to Kyria’s grumbling, but relented when Kyria saw a nearby stall that held a few items she needed. After fixing Lyra with a firm gaze and a warning of only, “Don’t let her buy anything,” she walked with Rainbow to the other stall, leaving Lyra to wait in the doorway while Twilight gushed over the treasure trove of human literature.

“Wait, I think Lero mentioned some of these authors,” gushed Twilight. She walked along the shelves, her fingers running over the spines of several novels. “Martin, Tolkien, Gaiman, Lewis, Herbert…”

“Find something that catches your fancy, moça?” Twilight gave a short jump at the voice. Behind her, seemingly materializing out of thin air, was a…

“...an ocelot?” she said, mouth agape.

The ocelot in question simply raised an eyebrow from behind his tinted sunglasses. “You were perhaps expecting a parrot?” The ocelot took a lengthy draw on his long, thin tobacco pipe, producing a cloud of blue smoke. Twilight coughed slightly at the potent vapors. The creature was bipedal, a common trend among the city’s residents, standing much shorter than Twilight. He was dressed in thin white robes and adorned with copper jewelry, with a large red woolen belt that covered his midriff.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she waved the cloud away, “I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

“Nenhum tomadas,” said the shopkeeper with a casual wave of a paw. “But perhaps I can help you find something, yes?”

“Oh, I’m just browsing, I’m not really looking for anything-”

“No one ever is, moça, that is why I am here.” He walked behind the front desk and took a seat on a tall stool. "I see you’re interested in fantasy literature."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Fantasy literature…?"

Twilight looked back at the bookshelf she’d been glancing through. Many of the covers showed humans riding dragons or fighting them, and robed humans blasting spells from their hands. Yes… Lero had told her, many times, that dragons didn’t exist at all on Earth, nor could any human cast magic.

'At least,' she thought with a shudder, 'not without extensive modification by one of the ‘Gentry.’'

Part of her wanted to ask the shopkeeper to show her his nonfiction section from Earth. She could appreciate a good piece of fiction as much as the next mare, true, but books on politics, history, biology, and philosophy would give her so much more insight into Lero and Kyria’s old world… dithering around in the fantasy section seemed like a criminally wasted opportunity!

And yet she lingered. The colorful covers had caught her eye, she had to confess. Such gorgeous and adventurous-looking men and women! Besides, wouldn’t human mythology be as much a window into their culture as any sociology text? It would probably make for some juicier reading too.

She walked along the aged bookshelves in thought, one hand idly running along the vellum and paper spines. Each of the names were strange and exotically unfamiliar to her: Rowling, Pratchett, Colfer, Feist…

"Are these authors good?" she asked the shopkeeper.

Then, feeling she ought to provide context for her ignorance, she crossed an arm and rubbed it awkwardly, an ashamed looked crossing her face. "I’m sorry, my… my memory isn’t what it should be," she added.

The ocelot was stone faced before giving a sad and tired smile. He removed his glasses and warm eyes greeted her. "Não é nenhum problema, meu caro," he said, sounding for all the world like a grandfather speaking to a worried child. "It is the life we live, no?"

Twilight felt moved by the genuine concern the creature seemed to have for her. While she couldn't quite understand the language, she could infer the meaning behind it. Perhaps, she wondered, not every being here really was out to get them.

The ocelot then replaced his glasses and the smile shifted to the enthusiasm that only a salesman could project. "Yes," he said, "these authors are all good, the most celebrated in their field!" The shopkeeper led her through stacks of books and shelves dedicated to many different authors. At some points, he would mention terms like "rejected drafts" or "creative differences", which at first led Twilight to believe the ocelot sold some exceedingly rare manuscripts. The was, until, he led her a section of the store for less well-known authors.

"But these ones, oh, minha querida," he said, his pipe leaving a trail of blue smoke with each of his hand gestures. "These are my true favorites. These are the ones that almost were leaders, who could have been kings and queens of the pen!"

"Wait a second," said Twilight. "What do you mean by 'almost were'?"

"They never published," said the shopkeeper.

Twilight shook her head. "But they obviously did." She pointed to a book that would have been at home in any major bookstore. "They're sitting right there."

"But they didn't. This one, she died before she even started writing it."

"But then how...?"

The ocelot gave her a most curious glance. "Didn't you read the sign?"

Twilight wandered back towards the door and peeked out at the bookshop’s hanging wooden sign. "Neverwere and Could-Have-Been: Unwritten and Dreamed Works."

Twilight returned back to the shopkeeper. "Not a single one of these books was ever written," he said through another puff of blue smoke. "All of these are books that their authors dreamed up, yet never physically put to paper."

Twilight stood stunned.

“But please do not be so judgmental as to assume that automatically makes them bad books!” the ocelot was quick to say. “I assure you; you’ll find nothing but the highest-quality reads in my store: no half-baked ideas here!”

Twilight’s mouth hung agape. She was struggling to find the words she needed.

The ocelot raised a clawed finger, as if a sudden thought had just occurred to him. "Let me show you one of my personal favorite authors," he said, and led Twilight further into the shop. A small part of Twilight was beginning to wonder exactly how such a large shop seemed to occupy such a small storefront, but that thought was quickly put down; madness lied that way, she was sure.

"Here we are," said the shopkeeper, a nostalgic smile crossing his lips. He held up a novel written by one Dabney U. Greddigoskal. Its beautifully illustrated cover showed a man and a woman, clearly lovers if the sultry gazes and intimate positions were any clue, standing on a platform with a sea of stars and planets behind them. Strange constructs floated in the void, giving the impression of sort sort of ship. Twilight glanced over at where the shopkeeper pulled it from and saw that rows of Greddigoskal novels occupied entire shelves.

Twilight almost whistled at the sight. "He seems like quite a prolific writer," she said, struggling to think of a comparison from Equestria.

The shopkeeper gave a short laugh. "Ha! You couldn’t possibly be more wrong, minha querida," he said jovially. "In reality, Mr. Greddigoskal’s literary career — such as it was — ended the moment his teachers stopped giving him homework. Once his school days were over, he became a full-time sewage maintenance worker. Had a strong aversion to pens, pencils, and even keyboards. He avoided using any of those things as much as humanly possible. His autobiography was very clear on that point."

The ocelot’s whiskers twitched as he gave a small sigh.

"Died young, homem pobre, only thirty-one. I was depressed for a whole week, the day I learned of it.

"No, Mr. Greddigoskal wasn’t a writer. But he still was incredibly imaginative." He replaced the book in its proper spot on the shelf. "And what you see here are all the books he would have authored if he’d had any faith in himself as a storyteller."

Twilight nodded her head, her mind still desperately trying to process this concept. Once again, her rational mind was screaming at her that this was impossible on every conceivable level, that she really should be screaming her head off or running away as fast as her two legs could carry her, or some combination of the two.

She was sorely tempted to give in to her instincts when she spotted it: a small black book nestled at the end of the shelf, its appearance that of any of the books one would find at the kiosks in large train stations. She blinked her eyes in disbelief. Curiosity overrode the panic and she plucked the small book from the shelf. She read the title.

“That One Spy Novel That I Came Up with One Weekend but Forgot About and Never Bothered to Name.”

Written and Illustrated by

Lero Michealides

She began to leaf through it, her eyes darting down the pages.

"Oh, that one," said the shopkeeper with a shrug. "I stopped carrying his books long ago. Don’t know why that one’s still in the shop."

Twilight glanced up. "You stopped? Why?"

The shopkeeper waved his hand dismissively. "He seemed to have had promise at one point, but then his work turned very... poor. It always happens when they are taken."

"Poor?"

"Oh yes." He gave a mirthless laugh. "After all, who wants to read pages and pages of nothing but screaming?"

“Do you think they’ll be okay, Kyria?” asked Rainbow, looking over her shoulder at the bookstore.

Kyria nodded. “I’m sure,” she said. “Lyra seems to have the most sense of you guys. She’ll keep the princess out of trouble.”

Rainbow quirked an antenna. “Why do you keep calling her that? Twilight’s not a princess, Luna is.”

Kyria shrugged. “Yeah, but Luna seems more… I don’t know, less uptight than what I would expect. She’s more like the kind of princess you see on TV charging into battle in a metal bikini than the kind that sits on her ass to be waited on hand and foot. I can tell Twilight grew up rich and has been living most of her life in an ivory tower. You know what I'm saying?”

“...what’s a bikini?”

“...I’ll explain later,” said Kyria, after a double-take.

The pair looked over the stall’s goods in silence, occasionally asking about some item before returning to wander aimlessly within eyesight of the bookstore. Rainbow allowed her ears to listen in on the market sounds; two beings haggling over a broken sword, another pair making a deal over some powdered bone, a nearby cryer inviting patrons to Madame Mantis' to listen to the Pale Siren and some other artists.

After finally gaining the nerve, Rainbow hesitantly asked, “Do, um, do you not like Twilight?”

Kyria stopped browsing to look up at the butterfly girl. “What? No, I didn’t mean it like that!” She pulled Rainbow off to the side and away from idle ears. “I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t like her, Rainbow.”

“Oh, that’s okay, but, well it’s just that you seem to yell at her a lot.”

Kyria sighed. “It’s just that… look, I know that this place, everything around us… I know that it’s strange and weird to her — to all of you — but if she doesn’t try to just… let go and flow with it, then she’s gonna end up under a rock real soon.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened in understanding. “You’re worried about her.”

“I’m terrified for her,” said Kyria, fear and desperation growing in her voice. “You all have the Lost and Luna to protect you guys from some of the things out there in the woods, the big bad wolves and the things in the dark, but the forest itself is something you should be scared of. Hell, the air should being scaring you! There are so many weird rules here and, so far, Twilight’s refused to admit that she’s not even playing the right game! If she keeps on refusing to see the real picture here, she’s going to get herself hurt, me hurt, you hurt, or worse! And I don’t want that!”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. For as long as they had been friends, she had always seen Twilight as a leader, the one with all of the answers to everything and the one to always guide them to safety. But ever since they came here, Twilight hadn’t done much leading.

All she did was worry over trying to make sense of everything and putting everything in its proper place, and just lamenting why nothing was the way it was “supposed” to be. It was like watching a foal try to force a square peg through a circular hole, then cry when it wouldn’t fit through.

Kyria had been a lifesaver. The way she handled the strangeness of the Hedge and how she knew what to do and where to go really made all the difference. And while she could be overly blunt and rude sometimes, Rainbow could tell that she genuinely cared about her friends.

A tiny part of her wondered if this caring was only because Lero promised to take her back home to Equestria with them. But as Rainbow stared into the wide, amber eyes, she saw genuine concern reflected back. Kyria truly didn’t want anyone else to go through the same experiences she did.

Smiling warmly, Rainbow put a comforting hand on Kyria’s shoulder. “Then I’m really happy that you’re here for us, Kyria. Thank you.”

Kyria looked dumbfounded, but Rainbow continued anyways. “I’ll be sure to talk to Twilight about this. Maybe some of the others can do a better job of convincing her than me, but I think what you said is really important. I think she can learn. After all she got over the headband thing this morning, so that’s got to count for something, right?”

“I-I guess,” Kyria replied.

“See? I know that as long as you’re with us, everything is going to be okay!” Rainbow punctuated the statement by giving the horned girl a gentle hug. Kyria, still stunned by what was said, was slow to return the gesture. Rainbow thought she could feel the shudder in her breath and the tremor through her body, but she reasoned that was because it was still cold outside.

“Allow me to introduce my fine crew, Madame Sophia,” said Simon, gesturing to two seated humanoid beings.

After leaving Gilded Jack’s office, Rarity and Simon had exited the main building to walk along the parapets of a tall wooden wall enclosing a large docking basin. Down below were a number of ships and barges unloading cargo to a trio of warehouses. Rarity had spotted both Luna and the Lost on the opposite wall. They appeared to be following the small form of Jack on their own tour.

Simon had lead her and another person — a tall man with glasses and ink-stained fingers whom Gilded Jack had introduced as his representative — down into one of the warehouses, where she now stood face-to-face with Simon Thornewhip’s crew.

The first one to greet them was a woman. “Well, hey der’, capitan,” she said in a thick accent. Rarity often associated such dialect with ponies that lived in the far southeast, along the Hayseed Swamps. Rarity felt a shiver pass through her at the woman’s appearance.

She was just as tall as Rarity, but incredibly thin, almost skeletal. She wore a black coat and pants, a red vest over a purple shirt and tall, high-heeled boots. All of her clothes were aged and decrepit, festooned with missing patches and moth-eaten holes. Her skin was an ashen grey pulled over a pronounced skull with white hair tied in a tangle of dozens of braids. Her eyes were a pale, dead-looking blue. “So wha’s da play? We’s gonna deal, ou non?”

The man next to her snorted and spat oil. “Patience, fraulein,” he said. “Der Kommandant vill tell us. Pheh, no doubt in his usual manner.”

“Oh and what would that be, vous vieux?”

“Vere he takes a hundred words to say five.”

Simon’s other companion was a grizzled-looking old man with a beard like steel wool. Where Simon was tall and commanding, this man looked diminished and hunched. His entire left arm and part of his face were replaced with some sort of fantastic mechanical contraption. Silver and bronze gears clicked and shifted, letting off quiet whistles of steam. His jaw and left eye were the same, both an amalgamation of devices to serve as a replacement for the original.

“Ah, Herr Heinrich,” said Thornewhip, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “perhaps in light of our most prestigious guests, you would do well to address myself in the most appropriate manner.”

“Jawohl, Herr Anführer,” said Heinrich with a lax salute.

The woman gave a laugh before finally taking notice of Rarity. She leaned forward, a predatory smile on her face. “Oh, wha’s dis? Who is dis belle, eh, capitan?”

Simon straightened up further. “My dear Miss Beaumont, I have the esteemed pleasure of introducing Madame Sophia, a representative of The Lost, who is, in turn, a representative of the Lady of White Spires.”

“Dat so?” asked the skeletal woman, eyeing Rarity up and down. “What kinda ‘representative?’

“Madame Sophia is a fellow privateer, a veritable sister-in-arms, if you will.”

Rarity gave a small curtsey, still ill-at-ease under the strange woman’s gaze.

“Ma plaisure, ma sœur,” said the woman with a flourished bow. “Dey call me Clairesse Beaumont, but mes amis call me Claire.”

‘Sœur’… ‘amis’... ‘ou non’... Rarity was somewhat tempted to respond with: ‘Ce est merveilleux de vous rencontrer, Claire. Avez-vous été à l'origine né ici, ou étiez-vous enlevé à un plus jeune âge?’ Just to see how Claire and the others would react.

But then she looked at sly, smiling Simon and thought better about revealing information about herself this man didn’t need to know.

“A… pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Rarity told Claire, returning the bow.

“And this fine, upstanding gentleman is Herr Heinrich Tinkerer, our chief of creative solutions,” Simon introduced.

Heinrich stood tall at Rarity’s gaze, his aged back given several pops as he raised his hand in a crisp salute. “Guttentag,” he said.

‘Guttentag’… so he was Germane. Wait… no, that wasn’t quite right, was it? In the same way the country of ‘France’ was the human version of Prance, there had also been a human equivalent of ‘Germane...’ maddeningly similar-sounding, but for the life of her, Rarity couldn’t remember quite what that word was.

Regardless, she knew a few words of Germane, but it wasn’t a tongue she’d really learned.

Simon was looking around the room, searching for someone else. “It would appear that we are short one member of our merry band.”

“You mean Zazi?” said Claire with a fond smile. “Our petit tahyo is off taking care of de goods. He likes to keep ‘is eye on dese tangs.”

“Ah yes, no finer a watchdog was there ever born than our own dear Zazi,” said Simon.

“Might I inquire as to der young lady’s presence?” asked Heinrich.

At this point, the tall man serving as Gilded Jack’s representative stepped forward. "We are here to conduct an inspection of your goods," he reminded them in a nasally voice. "If the quality is on par with the master's expectations, then he will consider the proposal your captain has made."

"I assured Gilded Jack that our crew can deliver. It is not only our word that is on the line but that of our illustrious employer."

The mention of the word was enough to cause a shift in the privateers' attitudes. Claire's face seemed to lose its levity and the old man’s mechanical eye began to sputter and twitch subtly.

"By all means," said Heinrich, opening his arm invitingly, "let us show you exactly vhat ve are capable of."

Both Rarity and the tall man were lead over to a set of large trunks, which Heinrich opened with a flick of his mechanical hand. Rarity's eyes widened at the contents; gold and jeweled valuables were piled within, enough to buy Ponyville twice over.

"These precious items," explained Simon, "were taken as spoils of war. The hard-won prizes of many long but successful conflicts." He stood proudly and waved towards his two comrades. "My crew has earned a reputation as the finest company of privateers in the Far Reaches, a reputation, I must add, that has been earned through reliability of services rendered and results delivered."

With a flick of her hand, Claire produced two small, richly purple cards, handing them both to Rarity and the tall man. Rarity read the words, printed in silver script: "Thornewhip and Co.: Items Procured, Property Recovered, Obstacles Eradicated."

"What sort of items have you acquired?" asked the tall man.

"Rare and valuable artifacts of great power," bragged Simon. "Our Lord is a bit of a collector, you see, and has always had an eye for the finer things in life."

"I can see that," said Rarity, her eye drifting back to the chest.

They were interrupted by a long piercing wail, one that seemed to cause the tall man a small amount of discomfort.

Rarity instantly recognized the sound for what it was. What it had to be.

Claire scoffed in irritation. "Again? Can dat petit trublion make my work any more difficult?"

As Claire walked to the opposite side of the room, Rarity was compelled by the crying to follow her, driven by an instinct to investigate it for herself. She silently dreaded and hoped for what she would find.

What she did find was Claire leaning over a pile of white cloth, trying desperately to ease the distress of a crying human baby. Rarity felt the breath in her throat hitch. The child, tiny, pink and beautiful, was squirming in its swathing blanket, its tiny arms raised in distress and its face scrunched up as it wailed at the top of its tiny lungs. The sound was so like a newborn foal from her own world, there may as well be no difference between the two whatsoever.

Claire was having great difficulty. "Shh, shh, allons bébé," she shushed in vain. "Be quiet now, be quiet for your nanan."

The baby's only response was to cry louder, much to Claire's growing frustration.

"Fraulein," called out Heinrich, "vas ist der problem?"

"Je'n sais!" responded Claire over the wails. "He will not stop crying!"

Claire stepped away to walk back over to her crew leaving Rarity alone with the crying child. She stood above him, watching in rapt fascination. The baby, sensing a new presence, opened his tiny eyes to look at her. He watched her with gentle grey eyes, staring into Rarity's own sapphire orbs. The crying subsided a little.

To this day, Rarity wasn't truly sure what compelled her. Perhaps it was her maternal instincts, her fascination upon finally seeing a human infant, a mixture of the two, or something else entirely. Regardless, Rarity found herself reaching down to gently wrap the baby back up in the cloth and lift him up into her arms.

The baby boy murmured, still unsure at this strange new person. But she was soft and warm. And he liked the way her eyes looked at him, the way her purple locks flowed around her head. It wasn't like the other lady or the other people around him.

"Hello," she said softly. Rarity cradled him in her arms, letting her body move on its own. Using her left arm to support him, she gently reached out with her right, running a single finger along his cheek. She gasped, taking into the sensation of smooth skin under her sensitive fingertips.

"Hello there," she said again, this time with the most gentle of smiles. The baby seemed to like that and cooed in response. He reached out and grabbed her fingertip with his tiny fist.

"Marvelous, isn't he?" asked Simon, who quietly approached the pair.

"He's beautiful," said Rarity, never taking her eyes off the child.

Simon smiled, a wide grin that would be at home on a wolf. "He is one of ours," he said quietly. "A poor soul we found amidst the most detestable squalor. A father that abandoned his family in favor of drink, dice, and the company of loose women; a mother that could not — nay, would not — provide for him. We liberated this poor innocent as only we could."

Rarity listened to Simon, her heart growing heavy. To think that anyone would willingly abandon their child in such a way! Her thoughts drifted to a certain mare that she had the misfortune of counting amongst her in-laws. How Twilight had ever turned out to be half the mare she was now, with somepony like Star Sparkle in her herd was a miracle.

Then again, it was that nag’s absence for the majority of Twilight Sparkle’s fillyhood, not to mention Twilight Velvet more than ably filling in the void, that had helped shape Twilight into the wonderful mare she loved, instead of a smaller, younger, and possibly more bitter Star.

The right mother made all the difference.

Rarity looked back up to Simon, her voice still gentle in the baby's presence. "What will happen to him?"

"We shall endeavor to find him a new home amongst either the citizenship of this city or amongst the esteemed ranks of the Fair Folk," said Simon.

Rarity's eyes widened. "Among the..."

"To be raised in the presence of gods, my dear Sophia, is the highest honor us mortals can aspire to, save serving them directly."

Before Rarity could respond, there came a sudden crash as a door at the far end of the room was thrown open, followed by a pair of men running through. Barefoot, covered in threadbare rags and filth, they came stumbling through, all-consuming fear in their wide eyes. "RUN!!" one cried out.

No sooner did the man speak, there came an even greater crash as the door, its frame, and a fair section of the wall exploded in a shower of splinters and great and beastial bellow filled the room.

"WAAAGH!"

Rarity could only stare as a giant came bounding through the new hole. Almost three times her height, its skin a bright red, it swung a great and meaty fist, slamming into one of the men and sending him flying sideways into an adjacent wall with a sickening crunch.

The other man, fear and adrenaline forcing his limbs, did not turn back to see his companion's fate but instead spurned onwards.

Fluent movement from Simon caught her eye.

*CRACK!!*

The running man's escape was halted when something suddenly wrapped around his neck. His eyes bulged as he gasped desperately for breath and his hands tried in vain to remove the constricting object. Simon grinned viciously and pulled back on his whip. Rarity felt a chill run through her; the whip more closely resembled one of the thorny vines she had seen in the wilds. It was long and pitch black, the yellow thorns dug into the man's exposed flesh.

"Know your place, scum," hissed Simon gleefully and pulled tighter.

Horror began to fill Rarity as she watched the man's eyelids begin to droop, his arms becoming lax. The color of his skin seemed to fade, going from a flushed red to a dull and lifeless white. The eyes became more sunken as a cowed and stupefied look overcame him. He wasn't dying but at the same time seemed to have the very life force drain out of him. Soon all he was doing was kneeling, a slack look covering his face as his mouth hung open, a dribble of drool falling out of his mouth. Satisfied, Simon gave a flick of wrist, unravelling the whip from the man's neck and returning it to his hip, coiled and ready for use again.

The man continued to remain kneeling, catatonic and unmoving.

Rarity put a hand to her mouth, a last effort to contain the scream clawing its way to escape her throat. The baby had no such reservations, his scared wailing returning in full force.

"Heh heh heh," laughed the giant, his voice low and guttural. "Baka yaro." The giant then tossed the other man onto the floor. Rarity saw that he was miraculously somehow still alive, but the blackened and blue skin and the pained moans told her that it was only by the thinnest of strings.

"Speak for yourself, crétin," said Claire. The woman, indeed the rest of the occupants of the room, seemed to have taken the violence in stride, as if it were just another day at work. "You just cost us two pieces of merchandise!"

The giant grabbed the broken man by his legs and lifted him up. "Oi! This one is still alive," he said. "At least I didn't drain him like Anii-ki did. Those ones are worth even less! Anii-ki should just trade his whip for some other weapon."

"Zazi-san," chided Simon, "how could you forget that sizable percentage of our clientele who actively refrain from the process of breaking their slaves’ will?”

Zazi snorted contemptuously. Simon Thornwhipe nodded.

“My sentiments exactly. Freakier than teetotalers, those lot. But since those squeamish milksops are willing to pay top coin to skip that step of the procedure…”

Here, Simon stroked his namesake thorny whip lovingly. His hand came away from it without the faintest scratch.

“...Who are we to spurn that timeless adage about the customer being ‘always right?” Then Simon’s glibness turned to reproach. “However, no one will pay for any slave so profoundly and irrevocably damaged that they can do little more than moan and eat their meals through straws."

And with dawning horror, Rarity realized that it really was just another day at work for these privateers. They were slavers, flesh peddlers, the very worst that sapient life had to offer. They-

"Shigata ga nai," shrugged the giant and with inhuman callousness, raised the man to his mouth and bit down. With a single crunching bite, Zazi removed the man's head and most of his chest cavity. Crimson blood spilled over his fingers and ran down the dead man's twitching legs. Zazi chewed his mouthful of gore as one might chew a piece of taffy.

Claire gave a disgusted scoff. "Ugh! Do you have to do dat in front of us, tahyo?" Zazi shrugged and took another huge bite out of the dead man. "And now, o' course, we can't make anytang from dis one."

"Waste not, want not," came a reply through a mouthful of flesh.

The tall servant of Gilded Jack ignored the banter, instead choosing to focus on the kneeling man. Through his large, round lenses, he examined the slave, who remained completely unaware of what was happening around him.

"Fascinating," said the tall man, as he peered down his nose. He removed a handkerchief from a breast pocket, using it to turn the man's head one way then the next. The man remained unresponsive. "Are you able to replicate these effects with consistency?"

"I must confess," began Simon, "that what you beheld was not my usual style of administering the whip. Flogging is my preferred method. Many quick lashes at the subject while he or she is tied to a post: that’s Step One. Afterwards, I put the slave to regular work for a period of time to lower his or her psychological guard, before having him or her sent back for more flogging. The idea is to slowly and methodically erode what little will these insects have, insuring complacency and docility. Mind you, this approach is best suited to create menial servants, if such is your wish. Then again, that is all these creatures are good for, isn't it?"

The tall man's only response was an uncaring sniff as he continued to examine the slave. "This stupor you’ve put him in, how long does it last for?”

Simon strode forward confidently, every part a salesman. "I’m afraid this one has passed a point of no return. He’s doomed to remain in this state indefinitely. If a cure exists that can restore him to his former cognizance, it’s unknown to me. Regrettably, I haven’t enough scientific inquiry in my soul to bother to see whether it eventually wears off on its own. I've got my own life to live and an enterprise to run, you understand.”

“Don’t we all,” agreed the tall man. “But what can even be done with slaves who’ve been reduced to this state?”

“I’ve discovered in the majority of these cases, most owners end up bartering such slaves as this off to the meat vendors or to the fighting pits,” continued Simon, drawing closer to the tall man. “You could talk to the beastmasters of the arena. This one’ll make excellent food for their creatures. But my recommendation? There are a few of the Gentry whom I know… moderately reasonable, approachable, and powerful figures... who’d use slaves like this one...”

Here, Simon gave the slave a light kick.

“...In practice hunts. To train their hounds to track and maul their prey. I could put in a few good words for your master with them, if you like. For a price."

"You," whispered Rarity. The others turned their eyes towards the purple-haired woman, now backing towards the door, the baby held protectively in her arms. "You monsters."

Simon only raised an eyebrow. "Well now," he said in a low voice. "Monsters… that is an interesting appellation to bestow upon one of your own. But then again, I had a sneaking suspicion that we could never truly count you among our ranks, Madame. A privateer’s lifestyle is only truly suited for those whose hearts are suffused with a vast superabundance of malignancy."

Then he blew Rarity a kiss. “Though, you kept me guessing from the first moment I laid eyes on you. Your talent as actress is considerable.”

"How can you be so... so cruel?!" shouted Rarity, still backing towards the door. The baby began to wail in her arms. "These are people, thinking, living people! What right do you have to act like this, you... barbarians!"

First, Simon gave her the most baffled look, one that was quickly mirrored by the others in the room, even old Heinrich. Then, as if on cue, they all burst into rancorous laughter, save for Gilded Jack’s tall servant, observing in indifference. Zazi laughed so hard that the corpse he had been eating dropped out of his fist as he clutched his great sides.

Simon was the first to reply. "O-hoho my dear Sophia," he said, wiping at his eye as if to brush away a tear. "You ask us that simple question as if there must be some vast and complex response to it. I, however, am delighted to tell you that there is, in fact, an equally simple answer."

He spread his arms wide and leaned forward, that terrible, feral, fanged-filled grin never once leaving his face.

"We do it because we can."

Rarity took a step backward.

"We do it because we are paid to," said Claire, removing a long and rusted machete from beneath her coat.

Rarity took another step.

"Ve do it because it ist our duty," said Heinrich. His arm clicked and whirred, the forearms converting from a hand and into a pair of menacing looking barrels.

Another step backwards.

"But really," said Zazi, rising to his full height, a wide smile on his face. "We do it because it's fun!"

Rarity took another step. She felt the door at her back. She was out of space.

Before, when they had all been sitting together at Gilded Jack’s table, Simon had been grinning at Rarity the way a wolf would’ve grinned at a pretty she-wolf.

Now Simon was leering at her the way a wolf would leer at a pretty, declawed, muzzled poodle.

Sweat poured from Rarity’s brow, dripping down her cheeks and chin. The tiny droplets found there way onto the baby's swathing clothes. The boy wailed louder, sensing the danger and urging his protector to do something.

Simon fingered the whip on his belt. "Now then," he said. "If you are not a privateer, then I believe it is only safe to assume that neither is your so-called 'leader'. And if that is the case, I fully intend to uncover who you really are. Even if it means extracting the information from you one flayed piece of flesh at a time."

"Can I eat her then, Anii-ki?" asked Zazi. "She looks tasty." His maw was already dripping with a mixture of blood and drool.

"No, I have plans for her. But perhaps after we are finished with the others on her crew... then you can eat your fill, my stout friend."

That was it. That was her trigger.

As if someone had reached into her mind and flipped a switch, Rarity felt her fear and dread change to sudden rage. Her sapphire eyes narrowed, the lightning dancing behind them. Her smokey purple hair flowed around her, the thunder and lightning contained within beginning to rumble and roar with building ferocity.

The smell of ozone began to fill the air.

"You dare," she hissed. The privateers halted their advance. "You dare!"

A rogue spark of electricity jumped between her and a nearby crate, leaving a black scorthmark and almost alighting the netting covering it.

"You dare threaten me? You dare threaten my family?!" The woman's roar was accompanied by a surging of primal force; thunder rolled through her hair and lightning danced across her skin.

“Family?” Thornewhip repeated.

Rarity no longer heeded the fear that had once been present. Now all she could feel was anger. A raging fury continued to build in her, and with it, the return of a strange physical sensation.

The sensation of being tied to something deeper within her, a connection to a great and ancient force. Rarity felt as though she holding the raw power at the heart of a storm in the palm of her hand. She could feel it bridging with her very soul, as if it had been a part of her all along.

The feeling promised her wrath. It promised her destruction, the annihilation of any that dared to stand in front of her. For who could ever stand before the Oncoming Storm and dare hope to face anything apart from their own demise. And all she had to do was let it loose.

And so she did.

It was as if a bomb were set off and Rarity was at the epicenter. A great pulse of rolling lightning sprung forth and swept through the room like a tidal wave. It washed over the privateers, too slow to respond. Even Thornewhip could not grab his weapon in time. The four privateers and Gilded Jack’s tall servant were floored in an instant. A few of them were twitching, especially Heinrich’s mechanical limbs, which were throwing off angry sparks.

None of them were getting back up anytime soon.

Rarity sank to her knees, breathing hard and in disbelief at what she had just done. The storm was subsiding but she could feel the power there, lying dormant and waiting to be used again at a moment's notice.

The baby continued to cry in her arms, frightened by the bright lights and thundering crash. Rarity looked down, relieved to see he was unharmed.

Sparing only a fleeting glance at the prone privateers, Rarity turned and ran from the room.

"Ah, you see there?" Gilded Jack pointed across the small harbor at a group walking along the opposite side of the walls. The Lost spotted Rarity easily, her dark purple hair was like a beacon. Behind her were two men; Simon Thornewhip and another that he did not recognize but assumed was the associate Jack had spoken of back in his office.

The Lost felt his blood simmer at the sight of the two. He did not trust Simon at all, but felt that he should follow Rarity's advice and trust in her instincts.

"Master Jack, sir," came a voice from below them. At the base of the stairs was the same green-haired servant they first met when they came to the goblin's manor. He was holding a small jeweled box resting on a silver tray. "I have the item you requested. Just delivered from Captain Tulpa."

"Ah, thank you, boy," said Jack, who proceeded to waddle down the stairs with a wide grin on his mouth. He took the offered box in his fat, little hands and opened it with glee. Inside was a pair of white marble orbs, polished to a shine and resting in soft velvet. "Very lovely indeed. Tulpa always delivers."

"Shall I take these back to your quarters...?"

"No no. I think I'll enjoy them now." Jack picked them up in one hand and with the other, removed his sunglasses.

The Lost stiffened. Gilded Jack's eye sockets stared back at him, vacant save for the twin rows of tiny, needle-like teeth that squatted where his eyelids should have been. Raising one of the marble orbs to a socket, the teeth sprang into action, opening and snapping at the object. Jack eased the orb in, the teeth wrapping around it before quieting. The only thing that remained was the subtle scraping of the sharp teeth on the smooth surface, the same sound that the Lost had picked up on yesterday in the goblin's gondola.

Gilded Jack repeated the disturbing process with his other eye, relishing in both the Lost's and Luna's discomfort at the sight. Another smug smile blossomed on his wide face. "Ahhh," he sighed in pleasure. "That always makes the difference." He looked upwards, a false expression of worry settling on him. "Oh my, is something the matter, Sir?"

Luna's response was to tighten her grip on her sword, her disgust for the creature almost becoming palatable.

The Lost just crossed his arms. "Just wondering how long are we going to play this game before we get down to brass tacks."

The goblin had a wet laugh. "Hahaho! Good sir, surely you know that the games never truly end." And with that, he turned on his heel and led the pair into the warehouse.

Luna did not loosen her grip. "It will end, filth," she hissed under her breath, "when I separate your miserable head from your bloated carcass."

"Luna," came a quiet warning from the Lost. "Not yet."

A fiery glare was the princess' only response.

Down into the warehouse they went, flanked by a pair of Jack's ogres. They passed by crates of treasures; gold, silver, bolts of fine silk. They passed by gnarled wooden objects, which Jack swore were powerful artifacts. A cane that would always take one home, a goblet that poured limitless wine, a monocle that could reveal hidden secrets.

But there, along the far wall, was something that made the Lost's blood boil.

Stacked in cages, they sat in filth or wailed, calling out for mothers, loved ones, even gods. Some of them came to the bars reaching out to him and Luna, pleas for mercy on their lips and despair in their eyes. Many were injured, either by cruel fists or cold blades. Several more held cowed and vacant looks, their bodies covered in weeping scratches.

"Oh ancestors," breathed Luna.

There had to have been almost two dozen of them.

Human beings. A few looked like they could have been plucked off the street. Others were showing signs of changes forced onto them; pointed ears, discolored eyes, odd skin patterns or growths.

But they were all people.

People that were put into cages like they were sheep and cattle.

"Ah, now let me show you my stock," said Jack, completely unaware of the winged woman's reactions. He waddled up near the cages and lashed out with his cane at the bars. Some of the prisoners retreated, an unlucky few weren't quick enough and found their hands cracked by the heavy canehead.

"Filthy animals!" shouted the goblin. "Get back, the lot of you, or I'll have the Flayer have a go at ya! Your hides are worth just as much to me, even if they aren't attached to your bones!" The prisoners gave a collective cry and cowered in the back of their cages.

All except one. It was a little girl, barefoot and wearing a tattered green sundress, her pale skin covered in dirt. She stared up at Luna in a mixture of wonder and hope, her green eyes pouring tears. A small hand reached through the bars towards her while the other clutched at a battered and stained stuffed rabbit.

"Please, help," she whispered, her voice dry and cracked from her crying. "I'm hungry. I want my mommy..."

Luna's breath hitched in her throat. She found herself reaching out to her, she needed to get her out of there, to get them all-

"No touching!" came a shrill voice. An emaciated hand wrapped itself around Luna's wrist and pulled it back.

Luna stared up at the newcomer. Tall, taller than she was, its gangly form was barechested, revealing a collection of scar tissue and open wounds. Its head was covered in a burlap sack. A single mad eye stared at her out of one hole while another revealed a lipless mouth full of rotting sharp teeth.

"No one touches my pretties," it said in a voice that carried a choir of screams. Its grip tightened on Luna's wrist. "Only Flayer can touch them! Only Flayer does!"

Luna grit teeth as anger built in her. "Let go, you wretch!"

Flayer's response was to give Luna a vicious backhanded blow. "It speaks! Flayer doesn't want it speak! Flayer wants it to scream!"

"Flayer, you daft git!" shouted Gilded Jack. The fat goblin began to stride over, positively rumbling in anger. The Lost, unseen by the goblin, gave a sudden feral smile.

But before Jack could get another reprimanding word in, Flayer removed a curved and wicked looking dagger from his belt. "Flayer will take its skin. Then Flayer will hears its-"

Luna became a blur of motion. In an instant she appeared behind Flayer, her sword drawn. She flicked her wrist and blood splattered the floor. Flayer turned around to face her. He faltered for a single moment.

"Flayer..." he gurgled.

And then Flayer's head tumbled from his shoulders across the floor while his body fell backwards to the cages. Two men grabbed him and the keys he wore on his belt. Soon enough, they burst out of the cage.

"OI!" came a loud bellow and a red giant was soon following them as they dashed across the warehouse.

Another two guards came around the cages and spotted the dead torturer and Luna’s bloody sword. The pair let loose a pair of beastial growls and removed their cludgels.

Luna’s blue eyes narrowed, flashing a sinister teal. “Barbaric scum,” she said, spreading her wide wings and leaping into the air. “Justice demands your punishment!”

Luna felt something powerful stir within her. She could feel as if something enormous was resting its weight against her back. It wasn’t an oppressive weight, as one would experience with a great burden, rather it was what one would feel with an ally; the feel of a comrade in arms as you stood back-to-back with one another in the middle of a battle.

“Trust in my skills,” it said, “and I shall trust in yours for the coming battle.”

And so Luna did.

Sensations surged through her, alien yet familiar to her as the building magic combined with the adrenaline of combat. She could truly envision it now, the elation of handing out justice to those that wronged the innocent, that dared to break the law, her laws, the euphoria of annihilating the unworthy and smiting her enemies!

She was Luna Invictus. The War Mistress. The Tide Reaver. And she had returned.

Luna raised her sword above her, pointed high at the ceiling. Black, sparking energy ran along her arms, culminating in a spinning black sphere above her. The sphere of energy was silent, save for the harsh cracking arc it emitted.

The two guards below her stood stupefied, gawking at their own doom.

Luna gave a great cry from above. “Face the wrath of the Stars!” She then swung her sword and the ball of dark energy surged forward. It flashed in between the pair of guards before halting. Then with a low *thump* it shifted, releasing its energy, not in an explosion, but an implosion. The two guards screamed as they were pulled off their feet towards the ball. When they made contact with the surface, they folded inwards, snapping metal and bone as they were crushed like aluminum cans.

For the Lost, it was like watching a train wreck; part of him was screaming to move back, yet he remained still, affixed and marveling at the scenery unfolding before him.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of carnage, there was a loud bang. The sphere and the two guards were gone from existence, leaving only a black and circular scorch mark on the floor.

Jack sputtered, white spit flying from his wide mouth. He raised a shaking finger, pointing towards Luna. "You- you-!"

"Okay, you know what? Fuck it," decided the Lost.

The Lost slammed his fist into the side of the goblin's head, ringing his bell, before grabbing and twisting his arm. Gilded Jack was soon slammed face-first into a low crate. One of his larger tusks was snapped off in the impact and bounced along the floor. Luna idly picked up the errant denture and pocketed it on a whim.

"This is what’s going to happen, Jack," said the Lost. He applied pressure to Jack's pinned arm, eliciting a cry from the goblin, who slammed his free hand onto the crate. "I'm going to ask some questions and you are going to answer them. Simple, right?"

Gilded Jack, his sunglasses having been knocked off, glared at the Lost with his little fangs. "You treacherous dog! I'll have you pay for-"

With a flick of his hand, the iron dagger came out of the Lost's belt and found a new home imbedded in Jack's wrist. The goblin howled in pain.

"Yeah, that's the thing about wrists," said the Lost calmly, walking around the pinned goblin. "No one ever realizes just how delicate they really are. All those little bones and blood vessels." The Lost gave the dagger a subtle twist, eliciting another scream from the pinned goblin.

“Argh! What do you want?!”

“Well, you said it yourself, Jackie-boy. You control all the trade that comes through here. So you also know who comes through here, isn’t that right?”

The Lost gave the knife the most subtle of turns and the goblin screamed again. “AAAHHH!! Yes! Yes, you’re right!!”

“I’m looking for someone. A skitterskulk. Goes by the name of ‘The Silken Harpist’. Ring any bells?”

Gilded Jack turned his head to get a better look at the Lost. “Uuuunn! Yes! I know her!”

“Keep talking, Jackie.”

“She came here a while back for supplies before leaving again. She said she was working a job for a Fae Lord.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know-” The knife harshly twisted again. Luna heard tendons and bones popping twisting under the blade and Jack reflected every bit of it with his screams. “ARGH! I don’t know, I swear! I didn’t ask and she didn’t give a name!”

“Where did she go?”

“To see a middleman, I think. I don’t know where, I swear I’m telling the truth!”

“So she’s gone then? Well that’s not very good for you then, isn’t it?”

Panic set into the goblin. “Wait wait wait! She did come back! She’s here! In Gladesrest! I swear to you! She’s staying in the red lantern district!”

“Why did she come back?” asked Luna. She held her curved blade close to Jack’s nose, the cutting edge barely scraping his mottled flesh.

“She likes to stay at Madame Mantis’ after big jobs. To recharge and spend her money, earn a little more on the side.”

“Big jobs?” questioned the Lost. “What was this one?”

“Probably something to do with those hobs she was selling!”

“Hobs?”

“Yeah, three of them. They didn’t look anything too special, but something seemed off about them. They way they… I don’t know they were just off!”

“What’s so special about these three hobs?”

“I don’t know, probably wanted some exotic pets to sell off to some Fae Lords, so they could parade them around at their next bloody soiree.”

Luna looked him square in the eye. “And you are certain that they were hobs?”

“They had to be. Don’t know what corner of the Far Reaches she pulled them from, I’ve never seen phouka like those before.”

Luna quirked an eyebrow. “Describe them,” she ordered.

“They sure did their best to look harmless. All huddled together in their cage and whimpering like a bunch of children. Never seen three sadder-looking foals in all my years.”

Luna withdrew the blade a fraction of an inch. “Foals?”

“Yeah or, I don’t know, whatever the hell you call baby horses!”

The Lost and Luna shared a glance. They had their lead.

The Lost yanked the dagger out of the goblin’s wrist. Black blood began to pour from the wound. “Thanks for the tip, Jack.” He then spun the dagger in his hand and slammed the pommel into Gilded Jack’s temple with a resounding crack. The goblin went limp and fell to the floor, blood still pouring from his wound.

The Lost heard distant shouting from the entryway. More guards would be coming soon. Turning to Luna, the Lost spoke in a low and cool voice. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Luna cast back a last glance at the caged humans, all of them reaching out to her. With a heavy heart, she turned and followed the Lost.

Twilight and Rainbow stared down at the bowls in front of them. Their meal stared back at them.

“Trust me, it’s good!” said Kyria as she slurped up a reddened tentacle. “Just avoid the eyeballs and pretend it’s something else. The spices they use make it totally worth it.”

Lyra meanwhile was taking careful bites out of her own noodle dish. “I have to admit this isn’t half-bad,” she said. “Kind of reminds me of when Lero makes us seafood stew.”

“I’m pretty sure that nothing back home had this many limbs,” whimpered Twilight.

“Then just eat the vegetables and broth. It really is tasty.”

Twilight picked up what appeared to be a batter fried slice of some kind of beet. When a bit of the batter fell away, revealing that it wasn’t a beet but infact a very bloody piece of meat that was still somehow wiggling slightly. Twilight dropped it and the chopsticks back into the bowl, her face taking on a decidedly greenish tint.

Lyra took this as her cue to act. “Okay, love,” she said, standing up and helping Twilight up from her bench. “Let’s get something safe to drink, okay?”

Twilight nodded her head, her hand still covering her mouth.

The two herdmates left, leaving Kyria and Rainbow alone at their table in the corner of the food court.

Rainbow laughed sheepishly. “She’s… getting better?”

Kyria gave a snort before laughing a little. "Heh heh, I have to admit I was half expecting you to be the one who would get all squeamish over the food."

"Oh well, it's not bad. I mean it's... interesting for sure. It's just that... well, I've been having some cravings is all."

Kyria raised an eyebrow. "Cravings?"

Rainbow seemed to grow shyer by the minute as she explained. "Yeah, ever since I saw you and Lero eating that... thing back in the marsh. It... oh, I know it may sound really bad, seeings how I take care of so many animals and all, but it... it smelled really good."

Kyria stared at her friend before she burst into laughter, a joyful and melodious sound that soon infected Rainbow. After a couple of minutes, she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Oh my God," she said, still giggling. "You are so freaking adorable, you know that?"

Rainbow's giggling stifled a little. "Hehehe. Huh?"

"I mean, you are so shy at some points and then you do something like that..." The horned girl descended into another fit of giggles.

Rainbow didn't take offense at all, if her own giggles were anything to go by. Hardly anypony had ever called her adorable or found her to be good company. True, she had her friends and now Lero, but before that, she prefered the company of animals, which most ponies had deemed acceptable and left her to her own devices.

The two continued to pick at their meal as their conversations meandered. Rainbow shared some of her adventures with her friends over the years while Kyria listened enraptured by every word. Rainbow felt herself emboldened as she wove her tales and soon found herself exaggerating her own exploits.

"And the this dragon was like 'rargh!' and they were all 'woah' and then I was, 'No one treats my friends like that!'"

"Wait wait," interrupted Kyria. "You stood up to a freaking dragon?!"

"Yeah, I was pretty awesome!" Then Rainbow's eyes suddenly went wide, the muscles on her hip twitching under her skirt. "I mean, well, I was trying to protect my friends and all. It was nothing special."

Kyria laughed again and poured more drink from a pitcher into their clay cups. "Jesus Christ, girl," she said and passed a cup to Rainbow. "I know who I want to have my back in a fight."

Rainbow accepted the cup and rubbed her arm nervously. "I... wouldn't, if I were you."

"Are you kidding? You have more balls than any of the guys I knew back at school. Half of them would have shit themselves and the other half would have run away while shitting themselves."

Rainbow giggled at that but still had a sad look in her eye. "I mean it. What I didn't mention was that I slowed everyone else down so badly because I was so scared. If we ever get into a real fight..." Rainbow stared into her cup. "I've never hurt anything before. Or anyone. I don't know if I ever can, even if we..."

Rainbow grew silent.

Kyria swirled her own drink slowly, staring into the dark liquid. She picked at the clay with her dark fingernails, lost in thought.

She sighed. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl that lived by the water," she said. "And all she ever wanted to do was play on the stony beaches and in the woods by her house. When she got older, stone beaches and green trees became less important to her. And then she just wanted to spend time with her best friends, go to school, talk about boys, and all the other things that girls that age do."

Kyria reached into one of her bags and pulled out a small necklace. "And she had one friend that was her best friend in the world. They did everything together; she showed her friend her favorite spots on the beaches and the best trees to climb. Her friend showed her how to braid her hair and how to put things in it that would jingle every time she took a step. They went camping in the woods all the time. They were the very best of friends."

Rainbow continued to stare at her as Kyria took a sip of her drink. "Then one day, her friend told her that she was moving away because her dad got a new job. The girl was so sad that she ran out of her house and down to the stony beach to cry. Her friend found her there, sitting on the shore, watching the boats go by. She sat down next to her friend and gave her a necklace like this."

Kyria laid the necklace on the table. It was a very simple piece of jewelry, with a copper chain and circular pendant. The pendant had another one of the knotted designs on it, this one in the shape of a cross. There was a small green stone set in the center.

"It's pretty," said Rainbow.

"So was the other one," said Kyria. She gripped either side of the pendant and pulled it apart. Rainbow almost gasped but saw that the two halves were designed to be taken apart. They even had their own chains.

Kyria looked down at each piece and continued her story. "She gave her friend one half of the necklace. She said that even if they were apart, they would always have something to remind them of each other. No matter how far apart they were. Or how hard things got."

Kyria handed one half of the necklace to Rainbow. Dash held the piece so gently in her hands, as if it were one of her baby animals. She smiled warmly at Kyria, an expression that was returned in kind.

"Kyria, I-"

"I want you to know that if we get into a fight," interrupted Kyria, "I'll have your back, Dash. I promise that. It's the least I could do for everything you’ve done for me. That all of you have done for me. It's the least that I can do."

Rainbow smiled again and slipped her half of the necklace over her head. She fingered the metal as it slowly grew warmer with her body heat.

Rainbow hesitated. "Did... did the girl ever...?"

Kyria shook her head. "The next time the girl saw her friend was at a funeral. She was surrounded by the most beautiful yellow roses." Kyria sniffed. "And then... well, you know the rest of the story."

Rainbow reached across the table and squeezed Kyria's hand. Kyria smiled sadly and squeezed back. They sat quietly sipping their drinks.

"Hey, girls," said Lyra. She had just returned with Twilight by her side, who looked much better and had a smile on her face.

"Hey, you two," said Twilight. "Guess what?"

"What?" asked Rainbow.

"I found someone to develop my film." Twilight reached into her bag, showing them the camera she had brought with her from Equestria. "Isn't that great?"

"Sure, I guess," said Kyria. "But, uh, are you sure...?"

"Twilight was very deliberate in her terms with the vendor," said Lyra, wearing her trademark smile with just a hint of smugness.

Kyria returned the smile. "I'm sure."

"But I have two spare shots left on this reel," said Twilight as she held it up. "Group photo?"

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?"

"I've got more film." She opened up her pack to reveal several small black cylinders.

Kyria shrugged. Twilight set the camera on top of her pack on the table and flipped a small switch, activating the camera's timer. The four women crowded around each other, with Twilight and Lyra standing and leaning in towards Rainbow and Kyria, who were seated next to each other on the bench.

"Okay, smiles everyone!"

Despite herself, Kyria gave a genuine smile when she felt Rainbow lean in and rest her head against hers. She felt the warmth as both Twilight and Lyra leaned in as well, their bodies pressed up against hers. Kyria angled her horns so they wouldn't poke her friends and faced the camera. It gave a small click.

"One more," said Lyra. She reached over to the camera, wound the reel and pressed the timer again.

This time Kyria gave a small laugh and put an arm around around Rainbow. The others laughed too and Kyria stuck her tongue out at the camera.

"Okay," said Twilight. She got up and retrieved the camera, winding up the film reel inside. "Anything else we need while we’re still here?"

Kyria stood and swung her pack over her shoulder. "Just a couple of things," she said. "Hammersmith said that the blades would be ready by tomorrow's morning cycle. If you guys want, we have some goods that could probably get some more clothes for you."

Twilight nodded her head and the group set off.

Later, just as the city began its evening cycle, the small group found themselves walking over one of the canals' many bridges. Lyra looked up and spotted something.

"Girls," she said, her voice losing its levity. The others looked across at the opposite side of the canal, and spotted Lero, Luna, and Rarity moving quickly along the walkway through the crowd, not quite running but with definitely moving with determination. Rarity was holding something something in her arms.

Rainbow experienced a sinking feeling in her gut.

"Oh shit," hissed Kyria. They moved and met up with the others at the end of the bridge.

"Lero!" Rainbow moved quickly and hugged Lero, his big arms wrapping around her as he nuzzled the top of her head.

Luna stood to the side, her eyes darting behind them as if looking for something.

"Dash," Lero breathed into her hair. He rubbed her shoulder with his hands, the bandages torn and slightly bloody. Dash had a sinking suspicion that it wasn't Lero's blood.

"Rarity," said Twilight, giving the pale woman a worried hug.

"Oh Sparkle-kitten," she said. "I- oh it was... awful!"

Twilight wasted no time "What happened? Are you guys okay? Where were you?"

"Is that a baby?" asked Lyra. Everyone stopped as the little bundle in Rarity's arms squirmed and gave a scared murmur. Rarity quietly shushed the baby and gave it some gentle bounces.

Kyria strode up Lero and stared him directly in the eyes. His flashed blue. Hers flashed a dangerous amber.

Kyria seethed. Every word dripping with venom. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Author's Notes:

Well here it is folks. 4 months in the making and clocking in at over 25k words.

Wow.

So sorry for the delay, but I sincerely hope that this new chapter makes up for the long wait. I recently got a new job, which somehow allows for more consistent writing (stupid Fae magic), so I can hopefully expect to turn out more chapters.

Special thanks go out to Mike Teavee and Rikmach for being awesome editors. Additional thanks go to everyone that took part in the Market thread a while back for some of the new character. And as always, special uber thanks to everyone that reads, likes, and favs this story. You guys help keep me going.

As usual, please feel free to leave a comment. What you liked, what you didn't like, what works, what doesn't, the usual.

'Til next time!