“Changelings?!” Twilight exclaimed, staring in awe at the leather-bound book in front of her. “There were changelings in Everfree way back then?”

Twilight and the Sisters had relocated to the castle’s grand library shortly after their brunch. There, they’d spent the better part of the afternoon reading through Typhoon’s entries in the journal about the situation in Everfree with the Union’s visit. Much of it was second-hoof accounts compiled and written long after the fact, but in the absence of many historical texts from that time, every word glistened like gold bullion to Twilight’s mind.

“That was the first recorded sighting of changelings in Equestria,” Celestia said. The white alicorn sat with her legs folded across a burgundy cushion, spiced tea and cinnamon rolls on a platter by her side. “When Twister stumbled into the castle later that evening, she wasn’t sure what she’d seen. She could hardly explain it to us, and even then, we didn’t know what to make of it.”

“Wait… that was the first time changelings had ever shown up?” Twilight blinked, looked at the book between her hooves, looked at the thousands of books lining the shelves of the library, then back at Celestia. “In, like, anything?”

“In any official capacity, yes,” Luna said from Twilight’s right. The mare of the night had naturally chosen the most shadowy corner to nest in, where two bookshelves met to block the diffuse light the open windows spread throughout the library. Her teal eyes had a distinctly unearthly and unnerving sheen to them as they practically glowed from the shadows. “Fairytales and foal’s stories make reference to changelings, though such tales interpret them as demons, vengeful spirits, and whatnot. But as for reliable detail and context, they are notoriously lacking in any presentable information that might have aided us.”

“But didn’t you know about them?” Twilight protested, looking between the princesses.

Celestia shook her head. “No. Changelings didn’t exist when we were mortal, and they never showed their faces when we maintained an active hoof in the world’s affairs. Sometimes we’d get glimpses through the insight of ponies whose souls we judged or, in Luna’s case, their dreams, but never anything concrete.”

“And thou knowst changelings,” Luna added. Shuffling her wings at her sides, she leaned forward. “If a pony perished from them—much like Mayor Greenleaf—they were either in disguise or attacked without the victim knowing from whence they approached. Chrysalis was very careful about eluding our detection. Keeping her species—and the extent of their powers—a secret was of great concern to her.”

“So what happened next?” Twilight asked. Her rosy magic pulled the book off of the table by Celestia’s side and began to flip through the pages. “If changelings were in Equestria, then surely something was about to happen!”

A golden aura of magic swiftly enveloped Twilight’s own and gently pulled the journal away from her. “Actually, no,” Celestia said, taking the book back. “Chrysalis was incredibly patient, and she had a plan. The pieces had been set in motion that night, but it would be almost twenty years before she played her hoof. She struck with a cunning and patience that nopony could have possibly expected, much less prepared for.”

“So… what? Nothing happened for twenty years?” Twilight frowned and eyed the book with harsh scrutiny. “Is the rest of Typhoon’s journal simply filler?”

“No,” Celestia said. Shaking her head, she opened the book to where she’d left off, then flipped a few more pages. “It covers the important parts of the intervening years. For example, she writes about her coronation—”

“Ooh!” Twilight exclaimed, all but jumping off of her cushion, “I want to hear about that! I’d known from my research that Typhoon eventually succeeded her father as the Equestrian Commander Maximus, but all those texts seemed to believe that had happened after Hurricane had died. If Hurricane had really stepped down and given his daughter the throne…” Her words trailed off, instead turning into silent pleading with big, purple eyes that begged Celestia to give them the information they desired.

A motherly smile made its way to Celestia’s face, and she shook her head. “I suppose we can take a quick detour here. After all,” she added, holding the journal up, “the book isn’t going anywhere.”

Twilight immediately clopped her hooves together and shuffled her cushion a few inches closer to Celestia. She watched the alicorn like a preschool foal excitedly waiting for story time, and her tail wagged back and forth as she found herself lost in the moment. Even Luna couldn’t help but smirk from her dark corner of the library.

Without further hesitation, Celestia cleared her throat and began to read.

Typhoon stared into the mirror in her personal quarters. She felt strange having her face caked in powder, her coat covered in oils to bring out its luster, her mane brushed and groomed into one long piece. Two delicate coils hung from her bangs, and their constant presence in her periphery made her feel jumpy. Her hooves tapped against the veneered wood that supported the mirror and she tried to get some air to her thundering heart.

Her body was covered in armor that still smelled faintly of the skysteel forge that had shaped it. Several pleated plates of skysteel that glistened like silver mirrors overlapped each other from her shoulder to her flanks, where the plates thinned out to reveal her cutie mark. Gold filigree in the shape of a lightning bolt covered the breastplate, one of the only sections of the armor that was actually one solid piece, with similarly elaborate designs also covering her pauldrons and bracers. Behind the gold trim, a band of onyx had been slotted into the metal, providing a stripe of black to separate the gold from the silver.

In short, it was the most impressive suit of armor Typhoon had ever worn, and that scared her.

There was a knock at the door, and the mare turned in place, causing the segmented plates to rattle up and down the length of her body. Swallowing hard, she fought to grab hold of her voice. “Come in.”

The door opened, and there stood Hurricane. Her father was similarly dressed to the nines, although he still wore his legendary armor instead of finding a ceremonial piece for the day’s events. Compared to Typhoon’s glistening, segmented armor, his black and gold cuirass seemed almost mundane. Shutting the door behind him, his naked hooves echoed over the stone floor as he approached his daughter. “Are you ready?”

Typhoon took a deep breath and tried to draw her trembling wings against her sides. “No,” she said, failing to meet her father’s gaze. “I… I don’t think I could ever be ready for something like this.”

Hurricane didn’t say anything. He looked his daughter over from head to hoof as she mussed with the coils Platinum’s hoofmaidens had put into her mane in preparation for the ceremony. Sighing, he took a seat on a stool and rested his hooves on his knees. “Everything changes after tonight,” he mused, almost to himself.

“Everything changed a long time ago,” Typhoon murmured. “It’s only official tonight.”

Hurricane grunted. “So it is.”

Silence.

The two pegasi stood in the room, neither finding each other’s gaze no matter how feebly they tried. The only sounds that could be heard was the faint roar of a large crowd of ponies and the gentle din of Typhoon’s metal plates colliding with each tiny shift of her body.

Eventually, Hurricane broke the silence. “You’re wondering why I did it.”

“I’m wondering why you did it now,” Typhoon retorted. She looked at her father, and finally their eyes met. “I’ve been back for barely a month, and you already want me to take your place?”

Hurricane sighed. “No, Ty. You are my daughter. I would never want anypony to take my place. Especially not you. But I need you to do it.”

“But I never prepared for this!” Typhoon protested. “How come you think you can dump this on me and I’ll be fine?! I’m not ready to lead Cirra! I’m not ready to lead Equestria!” Her jaw slid back and forth as she tried to grind her emotions to dust between her teeth. “How can you do this to me?”

Typhoon wasn’t sure how her father had gotten to her side so swiftly; all she could feel was the wet heat of tears in her eyelids. Hurricane wrapped his wings around his daughter and held her close while she did her best to fight back the tears and preserve her makeup. Gently running a hoof through her mane in such a way to keep it from getting mussed, he shushed her and tried to calm her down. “Typhoon,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “I have never, not once, doubted your ability to handle anything thrown at you. You might not believe in yourself, but I believe in you. You’re a praetorian; you’re more than capable of leading, and you are the best fighter alive.” Chuckling, he added, “You proved that to me when you wiped the floor with me a month ago.”

Typhoon couldn’t help but smile, albeit weakly. “You just weren’t trying that hard,” she said, burying her face in the coat of her father’s unarmored neck.

This time, a happier quiet filled the space between words, at least for a moment. “I’m so, so proud of you,” Hurricane said, kissing his daughter. “I know you’ll be a great leader. Better than me.”

“If I do half as good a job as you, I’ll be happy,” Typhoon said. Sighing, she turned away from her father and looked back in the mirror, making sure that her makeup wasn’t smudged. “It won’t be easy living in my father’s shadow.”

Another knock on the door interrupted their tender moment. “Cane? Ty?” Twister shouted from the other side. Without waiting for an answer, the Legatus opened the door and stepped inside. Her hair was elaborately curled, and she wore her favorite white and gold stola. Dark eyeliner surrounded her eyes as they danced between father and daughter. “Oh, good, you’re ready,” she said, trotting towards them. She placed her hooves on her brother’s shoulders and turned him this way and that, frowning as she did so. “Feh, you were always too good at keeping yourself neat for a stallion.”

Hurricane blinked as Twister turned from him to inspect Typhoon. “And?”

“Just saying that there was a time when I thought you and Silver were doing more than piling straw in the barn every weekend,” she said, causing Typhoon to snicker. Then her hooves grabbed Typhoon’s muzzle and jerked her head around, earning a surprised squawk from the mare. “I see Platinum already got ahold of you. She didn’t do anything to cover your scar?”

Typhoon fought Twister away and rubbed her chin. “No,” she said, touching the burn mark across her right eye, “although she did try. I told her that I’m going to have it for the rest of my life, and since I’ve already had it for five years, it’d be stupid to try to cover it up now.”

“Good,” Twister said, slapping Typhoon on the shoulder. “You’re going to be on the dais with her, now. You’ll need to hold your own when she tries to tell you what to do.”

“I thought the whole point of the Triumvirate was to work together?” Typhoon asked, furrowing her brow.

“It is,” Hurricane said, “but ‘cooperation’ doesn’t mean ‘submission’. Now, Platinum knows best, and she’s friendly—most of the time. But she’s also one of the most cunning politicians in Equestria, and she’ll do what she has to to get what she wants.”

“It’s kind of why she’s the mare in charge with respect to most things,” Twister added. Glancing back at the open door, she flicked her wing. “We should really get going. The crowd’s getting restless out there.”

“Crowd?” Typhoon asked. She whirled about on her father. “I thought you said this was going to be a small affair.”

“I never said that,” Hurricane said, raising a hoof. He shot a glance at Twister. “I just said it was going to be a quiet one.”

“There’s nothing quiet about the changing of the guard,” Twister said. She trotted to the door and laid one hoof on the handle. “Come on.”

Hurricane spared one last glance at his daughter before plodding after Twister to the doorway. Typhoon was much more reluctant; it took a few deep breaths to free her muscles from the leaden anxiety that held them in place and force herself to start walking to the door. There, she got a comforting wing-hug from Twister before the brown mare shut the door behind her.

A long hallway greeted the three pegasi, and each wall was lined with even more pegasi, all legionaries in brilliant armor. As the trio walked past them, each pair of milites offered stiff salutes, opening their wings parallel to the ground and straightening their posture. After the eighth pair of soldiers, they finally entered into the grand hall of the castle. Apart from a few soldiers, it was empty up to the sealed doors to the throne room beyond.

Hurricane, Twister, and Typhoon all stopped before these doors. There, Twister took the lead while Hurricane and Typhoon lined up behind her. “I hope you two remember the rehearsal,” Twister said, looking over her shoulder. They each nodded, and with a flick of her wing, Twister gestured for the two legionaries standing next to the colossal doors to open them.

Wordlessly, the legionaries wrapped their hooves around the handles and pulled the doors out, breaking the seal between the throne room and the grand hall. Typhoon winced as a wave of noise struck her and fought to resist raising her wing against the bright lights within. A long, red carpet extended from the doors to the dais at the far end of the enormous throne room. Hundreds of ponies dressed in their best flanked it, and upon seeing the three pegasi, began to clap their hooves. Thousands of candles seemingly affixed to every available surface and hanging from dozens of golden chandeliers blazed with tiny flames, and together they cast an unearthly golden glow over the entire room.

At the far end of the throne room stood the other two rulers of Equestria along with the Sisters. Queen Platinum had ordered an entire new ensemble be created for this event, while even Puddinghead wore something that seemed like a cross between a formal uniform and his usual chancellery wear. Celestia and Luna wore nearly identical dresses, save for the colors and the flourishes in each. Celestia’s dress was brilliant and radiant, with white, yellow, and gold colors and wavy fabric, while Luna’s was full of subtly muted blues, purples, and blacks, with material so transparent it seemed more like a veil than a dress.

Platinum’s eyes wandered over the pegasi standing in the doorway, and after a few seconds of consideration, raised her head by an almost imperceptible margin. Twister saw the signal, and so, raising the tips of her wings a few inches higher against her flanks, entered the room with deliberate and formal motions. Hurricane and Typhoon followed behind her, matching their steps with each other, while the legionaries they’d passed earlier picked up the rear. Only then did the massive doors thunder shut behind Typhoon, making her flinch.

Somewhere off to the side of the room, musicians played their instruments, but Typhoon couldn’t pinpoint their location. Her head was locked forward and her eyes stared dead ahead. She didn’t take them off of Platinum’s face, no matter how much her mane in her periphery tried to draw them away. Instead, she controlled her breathing and matched her steps to the beat of the music, much like she knew her father was doing by her side. All around her, nobles and those lucky enough to gain admittance to the event cheered, and some even threw flowers. The sensation of crushed petals under her hooves nearly threw Typhoon off her march, and she hobbled forward a half-step to get back in rhythm.

The procession felt like an eternity, but soon Typhoon climbed the steps of the dais and elevated herself above the noise and the crowd. Puddinghead and Platinum greeted her and her family, and Twister bowed to them first. The two leaders returned the bow, and then Twister turned to her right and backed away. She gestured towards Typhoon and Hurricane, and the two pegasi gave their stiff Cirran salute, to which Platinum and Puddinghead again bowed.

Next, the Sisters advanced as Platinum and Puddinghead stepped to the sides. Celestia approached first, and both Hurricane and Typhoon bowed low while she stood tall. After a second, they rose, and Celestia tapped her horn to both pegasi’s brows. So blessed, they bowed again, and then Celestia stepped away for Luna to repeat the process. Only then did the two Cirrans turn around to face the crowd, and the music finally died down.

Twister once again stepped in front of father and daughter and opened her wings. “Pegasi of Cirra, ponies of Equestria,” she began, raising her voice to be heard over the murmuring of the crowd, “we gather under the light of the sunset to bear witness to the changing of the guard. For today, we bid farewell to the guidance of the old, and together, welcome the guidance of the new. As the sun sets, so too does the rule of a humble servant of Equestria, and so, as the sun rises, so too will the rule of her next champion. Ante Leigonem, nihil erat.”

“Et nihil erit post Legionem,” the assembled ponies responded. Their collective voices echoed throughout the majestic hall for a second, bouncing off of its elaborate marble columns and high-vaulted ceiling.

Twister turned her eyes skyward and pointed the crests of her wings down. “To the gods, we humble and foolish creatures of flesh and blood pray for your divine faith and intercession. We ask that you bestow your guidance upon she who will rule us from this day forth. May you bring meaning to her words, counsel to her judgment, and strength to her sword. May her rule remain unchallenged, her voice unwavering, and her influence unyielding. For such is the way things were meant to be, as you deemed it to be so to the great Roamulus, who first exercised your divine will centuries ago. We ask these things in your names. Sic fiat.”

“Ita fiat, esto,” the crowd responded.

When the echoes died down, Twister looked to her right. Legate Iron Rain stepped out from those assembled near the base of the dais, dressed in full uniform instead of her usual armor. She climbed the dais with a red cushion balanced between her outstretched wings, upon which rested a golden laurel wreath. Stopping directly before Hurricane, the two officers looked each other in the eyes. Rain’s were filled to the brim with a repressed sadness, and sighing, she bowed her head, offering the wreath. Hurricane nodded and wordlessly took the wreath from Rain’s back, then turned towards his daughter as Rain retreated.

“Look, gods, with a serene gaze on this, your glorious servant,” Hurricane began, looking his daughter in the eyes. Typhoon bowed her head, and Hurricane placed the laurel wreath behind her ears, taking care not to scratch them with the golden leaves twisting off from it in every direction. “Look through whom honor and glory are yours through infinite ages of ages. Sic fiat.”

“Ita fiat, esto,” was the response that answered him.

Next, Hurricane drew an ornamental, gold and silver sword from a scabbard at his side. He gently stood it point-first in a stand that had been placed between them so that the hilt rose towards Typhoon’s muzzle. “Receive this sword by the hoof of the your predecessor, blessed by the priests,” Twister said, her eyes darting between both pegasi, “who, though unworthy, are consecrated to be in the place and authority of the gods, and deliver it to you, with our blessing, to serve for the defense of the Equestria. Let it be so through the divinely ordained, and remember of whom the Oracles prophesized, saying, 'Gird the sword upon your flank, O most Powerful One, that with it you may exercise equity.”

Typhoon bit onto the hilt of the sword and drew it, raising it high into the air and turning to face the crowd assembled before her. She held the pose as cheering and applause rang out, even as the heft of the sword slowly began to strain her neck muscles. After almost thirty seconds of straight applause, Typhoon lowered the weapon and slid it into an empty scabbard on her armor.

One by one, the ponies on the dais with her began to bow to her. Twister initiated it, approaching Typhoon and bowing low enough to kiss her hooves, before backing away and letting Hurricane take her place. Typhoon’s father did the same, although with significantly more reverence and tenderness than Twister did. When he stood up straight, he held eye contact with his daughter for a few proud seconds before he too stepped aside and joined Twister at the edge of the dais. Next followed Platinum and Puddinghead, and although they bowed, they did not kiss Typhoon’s hooves. When they moved out of the way, they took positions at each of Typhoon’s flanks, and together, the three leaders turned to face Celestia and Luna.

“Wise rulers of the sun and moon,” Platinum began, her eyes dancing from Celestia to Luna in turn, “we ask you as the chosen leaders of your glorious nation, which you saw fit to bring forth in its majesty and splendor, and grace with your presence, to gift your blessings upon her which is about to join our ranks. May the light of the sun’s truth keep her honest, and the shadows of the moon’s night keep her safe.”

Both Celestia and Luna raised their heads, and spheres of light built on the tips of their horns. The alicorns nodded at Typhoon, who bowed low before them, and the light left their horns to phase into Typhoon’s body. With single nods, the Sisters withdrew in unison, and Typhoon stood up straight again. Then, turning around, she approached the edge of the dais with Platinum and Puddinghead, with the latter raising Typhoon’s right hoof in his own. “Equestrians,” he proclaimed, “behold, the new Commander Maximus of Equestria, and sovereign of the pegasus race!”

Cheering, thunderous cheering that drowned out everything else, echoed throughout the castle, and could even be heard several streets away. Every Equestrian who heard it knew what it was about, and some even began to clap as they went about their daily business. Trumpets blared and church bells tolled well into the night, as the setting sun finally disappeared beyond the western horizon.