Gale was on an adventure.

It’d taken a lot of effort, some misdirection, a little clever teleportation, and the occasional bribe, but she and Morty had finally evaded Tempest and the rest of the Legion. Together, they had managed to venture far to the west, past even the intangible and feeble borders of Equestria’s westernmost colonies, where the entire world opened up to them. There, in that lawless expanse, they had begun to unravel the mysteries of the disappearing colonies, tracking evidence across the continent until they found the glittering sea on the western coast—

“Platinum Gale Stormblade, you wake up this instant!”

The frustrated, strained whisper of her mother, along with the rapping of a perfectly pedicured (but no less hard) hoof against her snout, jolted Gale out of her dreams. First one eye blinked, then the other, and with a groan, Gale managed to sit up and rub her eyes. The piercing tone of a mare’s long, drawn out note made her flatten her ears against her skull, at least until the orchestra resumed and the mare’s pitch dropped back down for the conclusion of the song. Thick, rich applause broke out within the opera house, which both of Gale’s parents joined in from their private balcony. “Is it done yet?” Gale muttered, her voice nearly drowned out by the thousands of hooves applauding the soprano on stage.

The comment didn’t escape Queen Platinum’s expert ears, however, a fact Gale realized when a hoof slapped her horn—the one part of her head that wasn’t coated in expensive makeup or powder, and also the part that produced the most immediate pain when struck. “If you’d been paying attention, then maybe you would’ve known,” Platinum scolded when the applause finally died down. Blue magic plucked a few loose strands of Gale’s mane that’d escaped their styling, making the young mare yip in protest. “We’re at a high visibility event, Gale, and it’s an insult to the performers on stage if Equestria’s princess is out cold at the debut of this new opera.”

“How fu—” The young mare wilted under a glare from her mother, and coughed. “How tragic,” Gale finished, hanging her head on the balcony railing. Beneath her, the curtains finally parted on stage, and the next act of the opera began. As the orchestra opened with low, melodic tones, she sighed and looked at her father. “How aren’t you bored?”

“It’s relaxing,” Hurricane said, his magenta eyes focused on the stage below. “After the life I’ve led, I’ve learned to appreciate the little things more. And sometimes,” he said, smiling at Platinum, who giggled and leaned against his side, “it’s more about the ponies you do things with than what exactly you’re doing.”

Gale pointedly glared at the vacant seat to her left. “Yeah… about that.”

“I’m sure you’ve had time with Coil for plenty of other extracurricular activities,” Hurricane intoned, fixing Gale with a knowing stare that made her skin crawl. “It’d be in our best interest as a family if we did some things together for once.”

“Then why isn’t Typhoon here?” Gale asked, tossing her forelegs wide in dramatic fashion. “Or Tempest? Or great-aunt Twister?”

“Because, unlike yourself, young lady,” Platinum said, frowning at her daughter, “they have important work to do. Your sister is busy keeping Everfree safe, especially after the dreadful murder of Star Swirl the other night.” She shuddered, and Hurricane protectively wrapped a wing around her shoulders. “Tempest is likely busy helping her and Twister in trying to track down the cretin that was responsible. They were invited like we were, but it’s understandable why they chose to skip.”

“I could help them!” Gale all-but hollered, earning a glare from her mother that could send Death itself scampering away in a flurry of apologies. Thankfully, Gale had built up a lifetime of tolerance for the Glare, so it only silenced her instead of sending her running for the hills.

“You will do no such thing,” Platinum said, crushing Gale’s tiny hopes in a sentence. “This criminal is still at large, and if they thought Equestria’s court mage was a suitable target, then no doubt the heir to the Diamond Throne would be tantalizing prey as well. So long as Star Swirl’s murderer is still at large, you are not permitted to leave the vicinity of the castle without an escort.”

Gale blinked. Then she blinked again. “Are… are you grounding me?!”

Platinum quickly discarded her ‘disciplining parent’ mask for her ‘sympathetic’ one. “No, Gale, it’s nothing like that. It’s just…” Her hoof made empty motions in front of her, and she turned to her husband for help, elbowing him in the ribs and clearing her throat when he was too distracted by the opera to notice.

“Uh… enforced martial law?” Hurricane unhelpfully offered.

Gale threw her hooves into the air and slumped over the railing of the balcony. “Great. I can’t wait to tell Morty about this.”

“You say that like he has enough clout that I should care, darling,” Platinum said, a teasing smile on her lips. At Gale’s frown, she smirked and went back to watching the opera. “Charming and handsome he may be, but until he can practice rhetoric with me in front of Parliament, he’s just another colt after my little filly’s heart.”

“At least he doesn’t smell like flowers like those other prissy suitors,” Gale grumbled. Sighing, she tried her best to find something redeeming in the opera being performed before her, if only to drown out her parents’ nuzzling and light kissing. “I bet he’s doing something way more interesting than this.”

The door to the mage’s tower opened with enough force to slam against the adjacent wall and rattle on its hinges. Emerging from the staircase was none other than Mortal Coil himself, and adorning his face was a frown that did a poor job masking the bitterness within him. Horn lowered almost like a lance to impale anypony who made the misstep of getting in his way, the Crystal Union expat stormed right around the ring of the tower until he approached the door to the workshop. The fact that it was closed, a clear indication that reasonably dangerous magic theory was at play inside, clearly meant little to him as he forced the door open, shearing off its lock in the process.

Inside, Diadem jolted in her chair, and her hooves flailed to try to juggle the glass jar held between them before it shattered on the floor next to her. Frowning, she gathered all the pieces in her magic and, with a single spell, repaired the entire thing. “Is knocking no longer ‘in vogue’ or am I just missing something?” Everfree’s new archmage grumbled, turning about in her seat to face the intruder. As soon as she saw Morty’s face, her own lit up. “Oh, Morty! Fancy seeing you here! Tell me, did you need somepony literate to read something out of a spell book for you, or do you need some more mana to cast a few extra spells?” She leaned across the table and rattled a box of charged diamonds. “What are you at these days? Four casts? Five?”

“It only takes one to end a duel,” Morty countered, ignoring Diadem in favor of sweeping several drawings and diagrams off of a table in the far corner. “That’s the problem with quantity over quality; you wind up with six or seven apprentices in a big tower that nopony down on the street has ever heard of, when you could have one good apprentice who does things like opening the Summer Lands and killing evil power-crazed archmagi.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Diadem said, shaking her head. “Maybe one day you’ll convince yourself that being a seven-schooler will come close to everything the six schools have accomplished.” As if to emphasize her point, she gestured in a wide circle around her, where the busy notes of numerous teachers and apprentices lined the walls of the study, and where beyond those walls, six private studies surrounded the central workshop of the tower.

“I think I’ll pass on destroying the foundations of magic theory forever. At least I can count to seven.”

“Oh, Wintershimmer taught you to count before you killed him?” Diadem said, crossing her forelegs over the back of her chair in an accusatory manner. “That’s cute. You spend so much time trying to use necromancy to solve all your problems that I thought you only knew how to count to one.”

Morty rolled his eyes and instead began stuffing his notes into a bag entirely too small for the volume of paper being shoved inside. “The best solution to a problem is often the most efficient one.”

Diadem decided that she’d had enough bickering. “What do you want, Morty?”

“I’ve got a few goals in life, since you were so vague in asking,” Morty said, tightening the strings of the purse and sliding it into his jacket. “Not being killed by Commander Hurricane while I’m sleeping with his daughter. Using my talents to actually help ponies instead of hiding in a literal ivory tower. Oh, and stopping the annihilation of an ancient and proud art is fairly high on the list.”

Diadem’s deadpan glare was her only response.

Sighing, Morty half-heartedly gestured to the now bare table before him. “If you meant ‘what do I want in the mage’s tower at this very moment’, then one, you should have actually asked that, and two, I figured it would be best if I reclaimed my notes before somepony ‘borrows’ them and they become government property.”

Diadem smirked. “What's the matter, Morty, afraid to have your work peer reviewed by an archmage?”

“The last time you ‘peer reviewed’ my translocation spell, it had what I'm sure was the not-so-unintended side effect of turning my coat purple,” Morty said, glaring at the aqua mare. “It took me two days to undo that particular screw up.”

“Screw up? I'd say it was an improvement.”

“So you were looking? There are few stallions that look good in purple, and since not everypony can be me, I had to write it off as a failure.” He looked around him, then shrugged, adding, “You might benefit from taking the time to practice making that assessment.”

Teal eyes narrowed at the white stallion. “The mage’s tower was Star Swirl’s brainchild.”

“Thank you for making my point so precisely,” Morty said, grinning at Diadem. “Mass uniform schooling fosters weak mages. Let them train and duel, like how Star Swirl learned; that way, when it comes time to pass along titles, they land with the pony who will make the most use out of them.”

Diadem’s expression briefly flickered to anger, but just as quickly contorted into a sly smile. “Still upset that literally nopony thought you should be archmage?”

“Well, I thought I should be archmage, so you’re wrong in that assumption.”

“Sorry, I was only talking about ponies that matter.”

Mortal Coil scowled at Diadem and widened his stance. “You know, when my thesis is done I’ll take the title. Not because of any selfish desire, though if we’re being honest, Archmage Coil just empirically sounds better on the ear. But no; for everything Wintershimmer got wrong on account of his overwhelming evil, he was actually right about the future of arcana.”

“If you really did care, you’d spend your time contributing to magic, rather than just using it to bolster your own ego.” Diadem shrugged and turned away, shuffling her notes in front of her. “But that’s none of my business. Star Swirl already developed a counter to your former master’s signature spell, and I have the reserves to outlast you in a duel if you really want to try your luck.” She smirked. “You’ll never impress anypony if you can only last a few seconds.”

“I could show you exactly how long I can last, but Gale is the jealous type,” Morty said, rolling his eyes. With an angry swish of his tail, he marched towards the door. “Tell you what: you keep the title for a few years, and if you manage to ruin it so bad that it’s below me, I’ll let you keep it. That way, you have something to aspire to.”

Diadem watched him go, then shook her head. “Damn colt,” she muttered, returning to her work. “You should’ve just let him walk, Celestia.”

High above Everfree, the pristine white towers of Cloudsdale soared. While Everfree had spent the past seventeen years growing outwards and upwards, Cloudsdale had spent the same amount of time growing in every possible direction. Large platforms of cloudstone had been assembled, upon which hundreds of new buildings had been constructed. Some of these cloudstone foundations glided above the core of the city, while others had nestled themselves within the shadows of the base. Still more orbited the city as it drifted in the wind, connected only by tethers of cirrus to keep them from drifting away from the main body.

To their ground-bound cousins, it was magic, something unfathomable. To the pegasi, it was merely life, and they went about building their home in a routine, almost mundane fashion. Sky cities were an art that their ancestors had mastered long ago; to the great architects of the pegasus race, it was nothing to really marvel at—even if Equestria’s newfound wealth let them build bigger and grander houses.

Cloudsdale was as alive and prone to change as its inhabitants were. Entire city blocks could be moved somewhere else over the course of a few days, leading to a fluid existence of changing sights and different neighbors almost on a regular basis, but the pegasi didn’t mind; the city was one community, one flock. Getting a new group of neighbors every week only facilitated the deep connections with each other the pegasi of Cirra had formed in the destruction of their empire.

Of course, the downside to such fluidity was that it made knowing exactly where one was incredibly difficult. Even though Tempest visited the city often, he knew he’d never really be a true Cloudsdale pegasus. He was born in Everfree, raised in Everfree, and if he was lucky, would die in Everfree, preferably as Equestria’s Commander Maximus after inheriting the title from his mother. The shifting Cloudsdale cityscape was entirely unlike the rigid grid he was used to down below, but he’d learned to use landmarks to figure out which blocks of the city were where whenever he visited. He wasn’t the Legion’s best active scout for nothing.

After a few minutes to gather his bearings, Tempest finally entered a neighborhood floating to the northeast of the city. The houses there were all new, or at least newer than the city’s core; they’d only been built a decade ago. Pumping his wings, the son of the most powerful pegasus alive crossed the neighborhood in a few seconds, then glided down in slow circles until his hooves touched down on the welcome mat in front of a modest house.

Tempest coughed and cleared his throat, then ran a hoof through his mane, trying to straighten the mop into something presentable. A quick examination of his wings yielded nothing, and he figured his breath smelled alright. So, squaring his shoulders, Tempest reached forward and knocked on the door.

“Who is iiiiiiiiit?” sang a mare’s voice from within, followed by hoofsteps across polished cloudstone. The door opened with a gentle click of the latch being depressed to reveal a white mare with green eyes on the other side. Upon seeing Tempest’s face, her eyes lit up. “Tempest! Good to see you. How are you?”

“I’m doing good, Mrs. Feather,” Tempest said, leaning forward to give her a hug. “Is Wallflower home?”

“She is!” Soft Feather exclaimed, holding the door further open and beckoning Tempest inside. “Come in! We don’t want you standing outside all day!” She shut the door behind him after he entered, then began to shepherd him towards the atrium with a wing. “Flower!” she shouted with enough volume to make Tempest’s ears ring, “Tempest is here!”

She led Tempest into the open-air atrium, where the smells of a freshly-cooked meal greeted him. Sitting at a table was an old yellow pegasus just a little younger than Tempest’s grandfather. Upon seeing the young pegasus enter, the older stallion smiled and gestured to a chair across from him. “Tempest! You hungry?”

“Oh, no,” Tempest said, shaking his head and holding a wing out. “Thank you, Pan Sea. I was going to take Wallflower out for dinner by the river.”

“I was wondering why she wouldn’t come down to eat,” Pan Sea said, turning back to the paper in front of him. The primary feathers of his wing grasped a spoon between them, which he used to bring oatmeal to his mouth while he read. After swallowing a morsel, he turned back to Tempest. “Not like we were having a big meal or anything. How’s everything been? We don’t hear all that much from the castle anymore since both your grandfather and I retired.”

Tempest shrugged. “You know, same old, same old. Mom’s working herself to death on the whole thing with the colonies, and she’s taking it out on all of us soldiers under her command.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Other than that, though, pretty boring.”

“That’s good to hear,” Pan Sea said, making Tempest raise an eyebrow. “Boring is good. It means that everything’s under control.”

“Yeah, well, I could use a little excitement every once in awhile. And not the kind that involves chasing Gale down all the time.” Sighing, Tempest collapsed in the chair opposite Pan Sea, while Soft Feather trotted off to the kitchen. “Mom won’t send me out to investigate the colonies anyway. She’s afraid I’m going to disappear too.”

“Parents worry, especially mothers. Even one as busy as yours.” Pan Sea offered Tempest an understanding smile. “Don’t take it for granted. There’s nothing quite like a mother’s love, even if some of them show it differently than others.”

“I guess. What about a dad’s? That different?” At Pan Sea’s concerned look, Tempest laughed and waved a hoof. “I’m just pulling your leg. Don’t worry about it. Just because I never had a father doesn’t mean I care.”

Pan Sea chuckled and shook his head. “If only your mom could hear you now.”

“I’d rather she didn’t.”

“Yes, well…” Pan Sea simply rubbed a hoof to his temple. “I think we’d all like to keep it that way.” His ears flicked towards fluttering wings, and he looked to the side to see a pale lavender mare slowly approach from the other side of the atrium. Smiling, he waved a wing. “There’s my girl! Come and say goodbye before you go.”

The mare, who was only sixteen or seventeen, dipped her head and trotted over. Restless lilac wings twitched at her sides, and her long straw-yellow bangs shielded her eyes almost like a veil for her to hide behind. Even though she seemed at ease, her hooves followed a tight pattern, stepping lightly like she was trying to remain as quiet as possible. When she finally reached Pan Sea’s side, she lightly nuzzled him. “We won’t be gone too long,” she said, in a quiet voice that would’ve been easy to miss in a silent room.

Then she glanced at Tempest, who immediately rose from his chair and cantered to her side. One wing wrapped around the smaller mare’s barrel, and the other brushed the bangs out of her face, exposing her eyes, bright and shining. “Good to see you,” he said, leaning forward and meeting her muzzle with his own.

It was a tender kiss, unlike the usually sardonic or disinterested personality Tempest projected. Wallflower moaned and opened her jaw to receive a second kiss, which Tempest readily gave her. With a gentle smack of lips, the two pegasi pulled away, and humming, Wallflower leaned against Tempest’s side. “You too,” she murmured, closing her eyes and wedging herself firmly under Tempest’s wing.

Pan Sea made a show of rubbing his hoof against his brow and shaking his head. “Where did I go so wrong as a parent?” he teased, smirking at the young couple.

Tempest defensively raised a hoof. “Hey, she started it,” he said, making Wallflower giggle. “She’s like a predator. Dangerous.”

“Somepony has to protect you,” she said, pressing her cheek against Tempest’s well-toned neck.

“And I couldn’t ask for anypony better,” Tempest said, kissing Wallflower’s mane. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to Pan Sea. “I’ll bring her back before it gets too late, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Pan Sea said. He waved a hoof and pointed a wing crest across the atrium to where Soft Feather was kneeling in front of a garden. “It’s the missus you should be reassuring.”

Tempest smiled and gave a quick wave of his wing before turning around, keeping Wallflower under his other feathery limb all the while. Together, the young couple trotted across the atrium, pausing at the doorway only long enough to say farewell to Wallflower’s mother.

“Goobye, Mrs. Feather!” Tempest shouted.

“Bye, Mom,” Wallflower whispered.

“You two be safe!” Soft Feather called, turning around and waving her hoof. “And don’t be out too late! You don’t know what monsters are lurking in Everfree after dark!”

Tempest winced, but forced a nod nonetheless. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine!” he shouted back, then hurriedly swept Wallflower along with his wing and disappeared down the short hallway. It wasn’t until they’d shut the door behind them that Wallflower looked up at her coltfriend in concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Huh? Oh.” Tempest shook his head like he was trying to realign his thoughts. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.”

Wallflower bowed her head. “Okay. Just making sure.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Tempest said, making the pale mare at his side smile. He rubbed his wing along her back and trotted into the open with her. The gentle breeze, so common to the streets of Cloudsdale, blew through their manes and gave a little lift to their opening wings. Smirking, Tempest flapped his own, catching the wind and flying upwards as his marefriend followed. “I hope you’re hungry, because boy have we got a big meal ahead of us!”

The day wore on, and so too did life. As the sun rose in the east and fell in the west, the bustling noise of Everfree mirrored it, peaking at noon before gradually falling off in a tired sense of accomplishment. It was merely the rhythm of life, and not even the immortals could escape from it—a fact evidenced by Celestia’s wide yawn as she wandered the halls of the castle, a single purpose on her mind.

Navigating the halls of Everfree’s stronghold had become second nature to the immortal alicorn, so she had time to think and organize her thoughts as she sought out the pony she needed to talk to. Typhoon, Platinum, and Puddinghead were all right; the situation in Everfree was becoming out of hoof. It was time to do something about it, and even if she didn’t know the root cause of the problem, she could still try to treat one of the symptoms.

Without any further deliberation, Celestia knocked once in the massive bronze doors to the observatory and swung them open, marching inside.

The castle’s observatory was a round room with a domed roof, within which many retractable windows had been placed. Telescopes of all shapes and sizes were positioned near windows or against the lower walls, and a large staircase rose to meet a balcony that ringed the interior of the room about halfway up, fashioning a simple observation deck for the stargazers. Star charts and depictions of constellations littered the tables, left untouched from where their late owner had placed them a few nights before. All of them were arranged in chaotic heaps, save one. That one now lay spread out on the floor in front of Luna, who merely stared at it with shoulders hunched.

“Luna?” Celestia asked, silhouetted against the open door. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, sister,” the younger alicorn droned. “I am merely taking my time to… reflect upon our late friend’s life and discoveries. Though he might have been one of the finest archmages to ever draw breath, I hope that his contributions to astronomy will be remembered as much as the spells he left inscribed in the Grimoire.” She shifted in place and raised her head, fixing Celestia with a weary stare. “Is there something you wanted?”

A sense of guilt washed over Celestia about what exactly she wanted, but she pushed those feelings aside. Instead, closing the door, she drifted to the center of the room, by Luna’s side. “I wanted to talk with you about your thestrals.”

Luna snorted and shook her head, pointedly facing away from Celestia. “You and the Triumvirate both,” she grumbled, crossing her forelegs. “I shall tell you the same thing I told them: my thestrals are incapable of such independent action. Their oaths prevent them from taking lives without undeniable reasoning, and they are prohibited from wanton slaughter.” She frowned at her sister. “They did not do it.”

“But can you be sure?” Celestia asked, gently, and simultaneously blanketing her sister’s back with a snowy white wing for comfort and reassurance. “Didn’t you judge his soul? He passed under your watch.”

“Yes, but I did not speak with him,” Luna said. “He was more than a century old; I assumed that his sudden death was due to heart failure, not… murder.” She shuddered and began rubbing her forehoof against the tiled floor. “I regret not speaking to him, sister. Truly. But you and I both know that we do not speak to the souls of the deceased unless we must to determine whether they are ready to go to the Summer Lands. There were few ponies more worthy of that promised salvation than Star Swirl.” Her fidgeting increased, and the corners of her muzzle twitched like she was fighting down some guilty expression. “I wish that I spoke with him before dismissing him. It was the least I could have done for such a close friend…”

Celestia nuzzled her sister to push away her growing distress. “I don’t blame you for any of that, sister,” she said. “Regardless of how he passed on, we both know that Star Swirl is in a better place now. We shouldn’t worry about this for his sake anymore.” Then her soft expression hardened just a touch. “We should be worried about the ponies under our care, however. And if there’s any reason to suspect that the Night Guard—”

“They are not the cause of this,” Luna growled, shaking Celestia’s wing away and pivoting to confront her head on. “I understand necromancy better than most anypony in this entire city, perhaps the world. I created the rite of atonement millennia ago. I know how it works, and I know how to carefully word my commands so that this does not happen.”

“Yet there’s been a rising crime rate in the city that matches the growth of your Night Guard over the past decade and a half,” Celestia said, holding out a hoof. “And there are stories of fang marks similar to Star Swirl’s—”

“Rumors and nothing more,” Luna hissed. She promptly stood up and marched to the window, absolutely fuming. “Correlation does not imply causation. The ponies of Everfree are all idiots, too stupid to understand the thestrals and what they are here for.”

“Ponies are afraid of what they don’t understand,” Celestia warned, likewise standing up, but remaining in the center of the room.

“Then they are fearful simpletons, but that does not change anything.” Luna glared at her reflection in the glass, then glared at the city behind it. “And I try my best to make sure that the thestrals are welcoming to inquiry and make themselves plainly visible to the populace so that the ponies of Everfree are more willing to accept them, but they prefer to remain aloof at night, scaring foals and young mares alike.”

Celestia frowned and tilted her head to the side. “Couldn’t you just command them to stop?” she asked. Instead of words, however, she only got the twitching of Luna’s wings as a response. Her hoof clopped against the floor as she advanced a step closer. “Luna? Is there something going on with the Night Guard that I don’t know about?”

“It is nothing,” Luna finally blurted, bearing gritted teeth. “It is only a discipline issue. That is all. It is something I can take care of.” She abruptly pivoted on her hooves and marched across the room, pausing only briefly by Celestia’s side. “I thank you for your concern, sister, but this is something I can resolve on my own.”

Celestia opened her mouth to protest, but Luna had already stormed away from her side, opening the door and slamming it closed behind her. Wincing as the loud boom echoed throughout the room, Celestia could only sigh and shake her head. How could she help solve Star Swirl’s murder if her own sister wouldn’t even speak freely with her?

Twister loved chocolate. Ever since its discovery in the extreme most southern reaches of Equestria’s borders, the sweet had exploded into Everfree, carried in on the merchant vessels of the Horseatic League that ran to and from the plantations in the south. Almost overnight, it seemed that parlors and little shops designed exclusively around serving the treat had appeared all across Everfree, and Twister had capitalized on it. Sure, it’d taken several hundred bits to sample every little parlor that had sprung up around town, but she had to be sure that she’d found the best ones. They all had their own takes on serving the dessert, and new recipes were crafted almost daily.

They also served as convenient meeting spots for Twister to discuss things with her contacts in privacy. For almost three hours that day, Twister moved from one pastry shop to the next, meeting with ponies she’d normally never associate with to trade information for bits over a slice of chocolate cake or chocolate cookies. Now, as the sun wore on towards dinner time, Twister watched the last of her contacts walk away from her table, coin purse a little heavier and stomach a little fuller. As for Twister herself, she thoughtfully munched on an earth pony recipe for chocolate cake, sachertorte as they called it, and paged through the little pad of paper she’d scribbled notes in all day.

Now that she’d exhausted her client base, she could see the roughest outline of a picture shaping up before her. Since the beginning of the year, there had been twenty-six attacks within the city, occurring in pairs almost every other week, with the second attack following the first by a few days. All of the ponies murdered had fang marks on their necks, and all of the attacks occurred in the dead of night. Oddly enough, the victims were usually accompanied by another pony or a small group of friends shortly before they were attacked, ensuring that the bodies were found as soon as the victim’s companions noticed they were missing.

Twister frowned and chewed on her morsel of cake. It was almost like the assailants wanted the victims to be found.

Setting the pad of paper away, Twister pulled out a map of the city from within the folds of her dress. She reluctantly set the sachertorte off to the side so that she could spread the map out on the table, and she began to scratch in the locations of the murders, as well as suspicious sightings. Humming as she worked, the Legatus filled the map with little black crosses until she’d gone through all of the information she had.

Frowning, Twister set her quill aside and stared at the map. The attacks all seemed to be radiating outwards from a point near the river, darting further and further into the city limits with each murder and sighting. Star Swirl’s death in the castle itself was the furthest yet. But what did that mean?

Twister did know one thing for certain. If the current pattern kept up, there was going to be a second attack soon—maybe even that very night. And if she wanted to figure out just who—or what—exactly was responsible for the attacks, then she needed to see them.

She glanced at the sun, which was beginning to touch the western horizon. The guards would be changing shift soon; it’d be a nightmare trying to organize them now. Even still, a contubernium of legionaries in heavy, rattling armor would give away their position before she even had a chance to catch a glimpse of this mysterious fanged murderer. She couldn’t risk scaring them off, especially if it would be another two weeks until the next attack.

Frowning, Twister tore a piece of paper out of her pad and scribbled a quick message on it. She’d notify Typhoon and have her alert the guard to be extra vigilant over the next few days for suspicious activity. She’d also see if she could get a scout team to investigate the epicenter of the attacks. But for tonight, she was just one mare, and there wasn’t enough time to prepare anything more.

Signing her name and folding the letter, Twister stuck it inside the breast of her dress. She didn’t have a way of knowing where the attack would happen tonight, if it would happen at all. But she had a good idea of where it would come from. So, gulping down the rest of her cake and leaving her bits on the table, Equestria’s Legatus stood up, spread her wings, and took off to the west—toward the river.