She opened her eyes. She was home again, and the house was empty. It was dark. She was in her bathroom, brushing her teeth before bed. The lights, electric, were on, and the bathroom gleamed. The porcelain bathtub and the shining floor. She spit into the sink. Water rushing down the dark drain. Clack—the toothbrush in its holder.

The hallway from the bathroom to the master bedroom was shadowy and narrow. She clicked off the light and squinted into the darkness. Nothing at all. She walked slowly over thick, soft carpet. It was red.

The bedroom lights were on, and she waited in the threshold. The wallpaper seemed to press in on her, and the easy chair in the corner was turned her way. Hostile. She felt she was not alone. She opened another door and looked down the corridor to the parlour. It, too, was too dark for her to see. She turned off the light. She turned the light back on. Her heart was racing.

She looked out the windows first. The grounds below were quiet and dark, the trees drooping cold, dry leaves. She checked under the bed and inside a set of drawers. She looked under the bedside table, than at its surface. There was a vase of dead ivy with perfect triangle leaves. Four leaves on the tabletop.

She took one last, long look into the dark hall and turned off the light. She walked to the door, dread growing with each step. The velvety darkness inside was unbroken, and then it wasn’t. Two splinters of light in the distance. Her pulse doubled, her blood rushed in her ears, and she broke into a cold sweat. Her legs trembled. She could not back away.

The darkness receded further, revealing an indistinct face that looked directly at her. Its eyes were motionless, its mouth open in a slanted, agonized gash. A frozen scream. She was petrified. It slipped across the ground on invisible feet, faster than her eye could observe. It filled her vision. Chapped skin, death-pale, around a gaping black hole.

Octavia shot awake, her heart pounding and her jaw clenched. She was on her back, knotted up in a sweat-soaked sleeping bag; Pinkie had volunteered to go without hers, so Octavia could be comfortable. It was rolled and tangled around her, and she slowly, quietly extricated herself to stand. It was dark still, and she breathed slowly, trying to calm herself. After several minutes, her heart had slowed, and the adrenaline was wearing off. The engine’s gentle thrum in the peaceful, starlit night was soothing on her taut nerves, but the dream image was stuck in her mind.

She crossed the deck, taking care to step lightly around the sleeping ponies. She stopped for a moment to look at Pinkie, who appeared to be sleeping no more peacefully; a grimace was spread across her face, and her lips were moving soundlessly. Octavia stepped past her and approached the railing, standing on her hind legs to get a better view of the ground below, a turtle shell of dark green and brown, separated by endless black.

“How could Pinkamena possibly be responsible for this? Not even the princesses have power enough for this—at least, I do not believe they do.” She sighed and looked up at the sky. “Does this mean that I have power too? We are related.” She pushed the thought out of her mind and took another deep breath. “Relax, Octavia. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

She leaned on the banister. She could see the Everfree Forest in the distance, cutting a ragged black saw edge on the dark horizon. She had flown over it only a few times, and always in a cramped, mass transit airship; she had never had a complete view, and was struck with how massive it was. It stretched as far as she could see in both directions, a thick, furry crescent, home to creatures and secrets she dared not imagine. Beyond, she knew, were the tall towers and congested streets of Manehattan. In a few days, they would be able to see its bright lights, if they were on; for the time, though, the expanse before her was empty.

She looked up. Outside Canterlot, the moon was a brilliant, oblong light among the salt-spray of stars, and she studied them, trying to put the dream out of her mind. She moved away and lay on her back, eyes turned to the night. She closed them; behind her lids waited the expressionless, horrified face from her dream, and she opened them again, her pulse jumping again. She sighed and put a hoof over her face.

It was a dream she had had for many years, with varying frequency, from monthly to daily. It was always the same: bathroom, bedroom, turn lights off, turn lights on, search, turn off, see face, end. It was not her only nightmare, nor even the worst, but it was by far the most persistent. She knew, even as her breathing slowed and her mind relaxed, that she would not sleep the rest of the night. She tried to make herself comfortable on the wooden deck.

As time crawled past, and the dream’s impact diminished, her thoughts turned inward. Only a few hours ago, she had stood inside her apartment, agonizing over leaving her old life behind. It was difficult for her to imagine such a pivotal decision so close behind her. “Is this really happening? Am I truly doing this? Running away? Who are these ponies, anyway?” She had been uncertain then. Now, in the darkness, with Canterlot behind them, it seemed madness. A flight of fancy, conceived on a whim, and carried out with only the dimmest of thought. “Two or three months. What then? No money, no prospects. No apartment.” She angrily swiped her hoof across a pair of wet eyes. “What have I done?”

Rainbow was the first to wake. Her eyes darted open with a light gasp, and she immediately stood up, shaking her head to clear it. The sun was just coming up, and she rubbed her eyes. Afterimages of her dream lingered, and she took several long, slow breaths to calm her pounding heart. She walked to Octavia, lying on her back a few feet away, staring emptily into the sky with glassy eyes and shallow breathing.

Rainbow waved a hoof in front of her face, but she didn’t respond. “Octavia? You okay?”

After a few seconds, her violet eyes blinked and met Rainbow’s. She slowly rolled over and stood up, smiling a tiny, polite smile as she did so. She looked at Rainbow expectantly.

“Um, did you hear me?”

“No.”

“Oh. Um, are you okay? You looked kind of… out of it, there.”

“I am fine, Rainbow. Thank you for your concern, though.”

“Were you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“A little. Two hours, perhaps three.” Seeing Rainbow’s concerned expression, she smiled again. “It is of little consequence.”

“You’re not tired?”

“I am exhausted, but it will pass.”

“Ooookay.”

Slowly, the others woke up, and they prepared a light breakfast from their rations and talked about the events of the day before. Aside from the compliments and questions concerning Octavia’s reckless, but successful, rescue effort in the dust cloud, they were subdued. Leaving Canterlot, they realized, was the first step outside their comfort zones. The adventure was truly beginning, and with Pinkie depressed from the damage her magic had done, and everyone else put off from Octavia’s somber presence, it was not the triumphant, exciting beginning they had expected. A single ship leaving town after dark, with nothing but a brooding musician as a guide.

Eight days. Eight days since Twilight and her friends had left Ponyville in the dead of night, suddenly and without explanation, and only two days since they had left a second time, for good. For months.

Spike had taken care of the library, as per Twilight’s request, and looked after Opalescence for Rarity. It was lonely work, and he was not used to having so much free time. With no letters to write, no books to organize, and only the most routine of chores, he was left with long stretches of time completely to himself, in which he often wandered the empty library, remembering. An overturned book, a rumpled sheet on the bed, a flower in the sun. Memories of Twilight, memories of Rarity.

More and more often, he found himself repeating his confession of love in his head, each time deviating a little more from the truth until, in his mind, he was standing in the doorway while Rarity yelled and insulted him, and even hurled one of Twilight’s books at him as he scurried down the stairs. He tried not to dwell on her, on Twilight, to remind himself that their journey was more important than his personal feelings, but it did little to comfort him when he went up to an empty bedroom every night.

It was early evening, and he was dusting the globe up in Twilight’s room when he heard a polite knock on the door. He trudged downstairs and opened it. He wasn’t sure who he had expected, but the sight of the smiling, gray pegasus with the lazy eye surprised him into a moment of awkward silence before addressing her. “Oh, hey, Derpy.”

“Hey Spike. Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure, I guess so.” He stepped aside for her to enter. “What do you need help finding?”

She walked a circle around the room before speaking. “Oh, nothing, really. I was just coming by to check up on you.”

He hesitated, not certain whether he had heard her right. “To… check up on me? Why?”

“Well, I know Twilight and all her friends left, and nopony’s seen you in town since then. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She was right; he had shunned life outside the library since his friends’ departure. “Well, thanks, I guess. You didn’t have to do that, though. I’m totally fine.”

“You sure? I know if my friends left, I’d be inconsolable.”

Spike hid his surprise at her use of the word; he thought she was supposed to be slightly retarded. “I’m… fine. Yeah, fine.” He punctuated his words with a lame shrug.

“You sound sad,” she said, looking at him with another light smile. Her voice was casual, but not overt or disrespectful, and he felt himself drawn.

He crossed his arms. “Maybe a little.”

“That’s understandable,” she said, still slowly pacing around the room. There was a weird silence between them, filled only by her clomping hooves, and then she spoke again. “Wanna talk about it?”

He considered her proposition. What would he say? His feelings were too sore to discuss openly with Derpy, whom he had met only briefly before, but her relaxed voice and unpretentious manner tempted him. She was reaching out to him, but made no demands. She was patient.

He decided to tell the truth. “I’m not really sure what to say. Sure, I’m sad, but I’ll get over it.”

“And is that all there is to it?” Derpy asked innocently.

“Is it ever?”

“No, not usually.” She picked up a book and flipped through it. “Are you uncomfortable talking to me?”

He sighed. “Yeah, a little. No offense.”

“None taken. You don’t know me very well.” She snapped the book shut. “And you’ve probably heard some not-so-nice things about me.”

Spike was at a loss for words. Her behavior seemed disturbed, but her voice and her eyes remained calm. “I… I guess?”

“Ponies spread gossip about me all the time, and most of it’s pretty mean.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing to apologize for. It is what it is, right? Every town needs someone to look down on, and that someone just happens to be me. I don’t begrudge them for it.”

“That’s awfully forgiving of you,” Spike said. He wasn’t comfortable with the subject, glad as he was that they were off him for the time.

“It comes naturally. Now, are you sure you don’t want to talk? You can just vent your feelings at me if you want; you don’t have to explain anything.”

Again, Spike considered it. “No, I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”

“Suit yourself. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. Oh, um, actually, you probably don’t.” She chuckled. “I live in the northern part of town, by the windmill.”

“I’ll just ask around for you,” he said.

“That works too! Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

“No, not yet. I was gonna whip something up just before you came.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know I was intruding.”

“No no, it’s fine. Um… do you wanna stay for dinner? I’m a pretty good cook.”

“Sure!” There was no hesitation in her response.

“All right.” He looked askance at her. “I’m afraid I don’t have any muffins, though.”

She looked at him in puzzlement. “Why would I care if you don’t have any muffins?”

“Oh, um, I thought you were, like, a… never mind. I guess you’re not.”

“Not what? A muffin fanatic?” She laughed a little. “Just another rumor. I mean, sure, I like the odd muffin, but I don’t live off them or anything.”

Spike laughed nervously. “Uh, sorry. Rainbow Dash said it, I think. She said you had this thing about muffins. You had to eat, like, five a day or something.”

Derpy shook her head. “Silly. I have no idea where they get these ideas.”

They went into the kitchen and began preparing for dinner; Derpy offered to help, but proved herself more useful as a companion than a cook. They dined, and Derpy amicably answered Spike’s numerous questions, about her job, her friends, the swarm of rumors that had appeared around her. Only once did she balk at speaking, when he brought up her eyes. The moment passed without awkwardness, and she left around nine, promising to come by again. He spent the rest of the evening alone, but content.

Days on the airship, they soon found, were excruciating. There was little to do except eat, talk, and make slight corrections to their trajectory. The items had been organized and reorganized countless times, and Twilight had taken inventory so much that she had most of their supplies memorized. On the second day, she wrote a letter to Princess Celestia, telling her where they were and asking about progress with Discord; Luna had not yet found anything, and they were growing more and more worried.

On the evening of that same day, they crossed over the east edge of the Everfree Forest. At first, flying over it was amazing and exciting; they were all mystified by its size, and the knowledge that, directly beneath them, there were all manner of strange, fantastic creatures. They quickly realized, though, that landing there would be impossible, and that, as long as they were over the mysterious forest, they could not avail themselves of any bodies of water. They could not bathe. The lack of water, mixed with only the most rudimentary of bathrooms, cast a pall of misery and discomfort over their flight, doubled by Rarity’s ceaseless complaining.

When they crossed the west edge of the forest at the end of the fourth day, they landed immediately by a tiny circle of water, an abandoned reservoir, and were so happy to be off the cramped ship that they improvised a picnic dinner in the red, sunset-tinted meadow. The relief was short-lived. As soon as they took off, boredom set in again, all the more bitter by its proximity to their brief respite.

On the fifth day, they were well over the wide western grasslands, where the march of industry was much more evident than near Canterlot and Ponyville. Rivers and streams were dammed and bridged, small patches of woodland were surrounded and segmented by dirt roads, and the countryside was crisscrossed with shining, silver train tracks. Manehattan stood in the distance, a foggy mirage by day and a dull filigree of scattered lights by night, surrounded by a wide, circular hole, the remnants of Starlight Lake in the bottom.

On the sixth day, they were drawing near to the shattered lake, and the island it embraced. It was very early morning, and only Octavia was awake to appreciate the still scene. The sky was full of thin, ghostly clouds, and a fine, steam-like shroud surrounded the ship, cooling her and drawing her into a state of relaxation from the night before. She had been up since midnight, disturbed by more nightmares, and then her own thoughts and memories for the hours after that.

When the others had awoken, they were only a few hours from Manehattan Island. Everyone moved and spoke with a palpable excitement, except Pinkie, who looked feverish and dull. Her speech was slow and her movements were languid, and she lay on the deck while the others crowded Octavia and interrogated her about Manehattan.

Manehattan was built on an island, and the river that fed the lake came directly from the ocean to the north. The city’s wealth came mostly from tourism and trade; it was the farthest-inland point that could be reached from the ocean, and more than a third of Equestria’s transoceanic commerce had taken place on its docks. At present, the lake was lower than it had been in millennia; with no inflow from the river that fed it, and a too-slow water purification and replenishment system, the ponies were draining Starlight Lake at a rate that would, unchecked, leave the island uninhabitable in a matter of months.

While the island was a soft-edged square, the city was a mindless jumble of towers and apartments in its middle, with no discernible shape or form, none of which appeared to have fallen. Unlike Canterlot, Twilight explained, Manehattan was built with earthquakes in mind, and almost all the buildings were specifically designed to withstand the aggressive shaking that Pinkie’s spell had caused.

While the majority of Manehattan was huge and anonymous, it was bookended by a pair of skyscrapers, dwarfing all the other buildings and framing the city like trees in a field. On the southeast corner: a thick, jutting, dark column, crowned with a single, sickle-like thorn, which Octavia told them contained the most expensive real-estate in the city; and on the northwest: a slender, delicate, twisting tower that looked simply too thin and fragile to support itself. Rose Tower and Glass Ribbon, Octavia said—Manehattan’s premier entertainment and shopping districts. Each tower had cost billions of bits to construct, and represented the absolute pinnacle of equine engineering and architecture. She shared their surprise, and relief, that they had not fallen in the initial disaster.

As they floated closer, the haze around them began to thicken, and the distant clouds, originally thin and insubstantial, were developing into thick, heavy, dark impositions on the sky that blocked their view. A storm front, Rainbow said. They continued to cruise through, and slowly, so slowly that they could hardly observe the change, the clouds came together, forming first a bank against them, then a floor, then a dome, and finally a complete sphere around the ship. Droplets of water condensed on the gunwales and the cords holding the balloon, and Rainbow and Fluttershy had to go below the deck to escape what was, for them, like being dragged through syrup. Still, they flew; they had flown into the middle of the storm front, Twilight said, and in a few minutes, they would be out of it.

After half an hour of aimless floating, Applejack stopped the engines. The skies had not cleared, and she didn’t want them to overshoot Manehattan. As they hung in the fog, unable to see the ground, they gathered around the hatch to speak with Rainbow and Fluttershy.

“We’ve got the torch an’ engines off,” Applejack said. “It’s a weirdly big storm cloud, but we don’t have anythin’ propellin’ us. We should reach the ground eventually. Ah say we just wait it out.”

“That’s dangerous,” Rainbow said. “We don’t know what kind of wind patterns are out here. What if we drift into the lake, or the city?”

“Why can you not use your weather-handling skills to disperse them?” Octavia asked.

“Are you kidding? It’d take a thousand pegasi to break something like this apart.”

“But we can’t just stay where we are,” Rarity said.

“Maybe we should turn the torch back on, an’ see if we can rise through this mess,” Applejack said.

“Also too dangerous,” Rainbow said. “We’re about a mile off the Gaia already, and who-knows-how-high above sea level after that. The air gets dangerously thin at seven-thousand feet.”

“We might have to take that risk,” Octavia said.

“I’d rather risk hitting the lake or the city.”

“We should cut the cords and just fall the rest of the way,” Pinkie suddenly said. She held a hoof to her mouth as soon as the words left her.

Everyone turned to look at her, and she looked back worriedly. She looked afraid, but when she opened her mouth, she only laughed. It wasn’t the usual, Pinkie Pie laugh of good cheer and happiness; this one was sinister and intelligent, as though she knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes, however, widened in fright, and she waved her hooves, as if in protest to the wild laughter pouring from her throat.

“Pinkie, what the heck is wrong with you?” Twilight demanded.

She shook her head and gave a quivering smile. “Oh, Twilight.” She reared her head back again and barked a single laugh, then another, louder, and they all exchanged frightened looks.

“Pinkie, what’s going on?” Rarity asked.

Pinkie only laughed louder and threw her head back and forth, each laugh rising in intensity until she was screaming, raving. Her wide mouth and twisting tongue looked grotesque in the semidarkness, and the cords of her neck stood out violently. Her eyes looked terrified.

“Pinkie, stop it!” Rainbow cried.

Pinkie leaned back farther, eyes rolling up, and bellowed into the sky. Her fur rippled, and they leaned away, watching, mortified, as she fell to her knees and shuddered. Her screaming died away as she put her head down, her entire body shaking. They could see her muscles tightening and quivering rapidly, tears dropping onto the deck, and a light mist of steam was coming off her skin. Slowly, like the clouds outside, the steam thickened and coalesced into a long, coiling rope, extending off her body like the tail of an exorcised spirit, forming in spots into more anatomical shapes: a paw, a hoof, a head. A pair of smiling, intelligent eyes.

“Holy Celestia,” Applejack breathed.

Pinkie, already struggling to her hooves, lay in a heap below Discord’s solidifying mass. They watched, unbelieving, as his head and arms twisted around, the steam within coloring and condensing into bone, muscle, skin, fur.

With a sickening snap, he cracked his neck and back, and gave them all a simpering grin. “Surprise! You spend far too much time with your heads in the clouds.” He laughed, and Twilight glared at him, anger tensing inside her. He met her eyes, and in them, she saw fierceness and cunning, vastly different from the dumb playfulness she had seen in her first encounter.

She was furious, but also terrified. For an instant, she was back in Canterlot, standing in the palace courtyard and ordering her thoughts. The dark skies and terrible sounds of war were all around her, and all she could do was run. Helplessness and guilt, and then a lapse of consciousness, waking up to find everything ruined. And here was the instigator.

“Attack!” she screamed. She darted at him with savage anger, inflamed by his presence and the memories he stirred up. In that moment, she was blind to rationality and fear; her only interest was in making him suffer. She crossed the deck swiftly, and he hopped to her side, chuckling.

“No no, this won’t do at all,” he said, snapping his fingers.

Twilight turned to him again, disrupted by the sudden presence of a large block of wood in her mouth and a rough fabric patch over her eye.

“Arrrrgh, matey!” Discord shouted excitedly, jumping at her and swinging his own wooden sword at her head. Applejack and Pinkie were behind him, staring and frozen.

“You brute!” Rarity cried, finally gaining her senses and rushing him. His sword crashed off a transparent, blue shield around Twilight, and Discord laughed again.

“Arrr, well done, me bucko!” He snapped his fingers again, a spark of magic flying from them, and Rarity fell with a strangled cry of pain.

“Discord, damn it!” Twilight shouted, tearing the eyepatch off her face and grabbing her own wooden sword in her magic. She was only a few feet away from him, and her horn flashed a brilliant magenta as a spell—the first spell to come to mind—flowed out of her like a flood. A vibrant explosion crackled against his chest, and he backed up with a cough of surprise.

“Nice one, Twilight!” Rainbow shouted.

She didn’t stop, instead running forward into the residual heat and smoke to administer another, sharper spell. As the air cleared, a hoof shot out at her, catching her on the chest and firing her across the deck with the power of a cannonball. She hit the gunwale with a crack of wood and a flash of light in her eyes, and she slumped to the ground, confused and hurt.

Octavia watched with mounting dread as Discord incapacitated the ponies around her. Before she could fully process the situation, he had reduced their numbers to three: herself; Pinkie, trembling uselessly by the hatch; and Applejack, who looked at him defiantly. The pegasi were still below, unable to move through the clouds that filled the deck.

“Yer a monster,” Applejack growled, and he advanced slowly, smiling.

He snapped his fingers, and the pirate persona dropped away in a puff of smoke. “You have seen no monsters yet,” he taunted, turning away from Octavia to circle Applejack, who matched his pace.

As he put his back to her, Octavia slowly crept away from the hatch. She did not know what she was doing, but her instincts demanded she take action; simply hiding and hoping for the others to take care of him, as Pinkie was, did not even occur to her. She looked quickly at Twilight, who watched with a dazzled expression, and then Pinkie, who cowered in the corner.

“Surprise!” Discord called, sliding forward swiftly and giving Applejack a kick, sending her across the deck and into the rail next to Twilight. He laughed energetically, and Octavia ran to the torch, the nearest form of cover. “Kicks for everyone!”

“What do I do? What can I do?” she thought, cold worry gripping her heart. “There has to be something.” At the sound of Discord’s footfall, she pressed up against the torch, and the cool metal on her side gave her an idea.

“Here I come, musician,” he said happily.

The sound of his voice, smooth and masculine, struck a nerve in her, and her idea, not fully formed, fired through her mind and into her muscles. With a grunt of exertion, she threw herself against the torch. It swayed, crunching on the deck, and she threw herself at it again, knocking it down with a deafening crack. She scrambled around, her hooves slipping on the wet metal as the torch rolled away from her, and Discord only laughed more. The sound pierced her, and she growled to herself, getting a tenuous grip on the torch and pulling it awkwardly around to face her enemy.

He smiled down at her, and her thoughts slowed to a calm certainty, electrified with adrenaline. Breathing deeply, she slipped her hooves under the heavy, metal cylinder, and, with a moment of strain, brought it slowly up, her extant earth pony strength and her years of physical labor allowing her to lift the metal giant with little more than a groan of exertion. As she slowly pointed its mouth at Discord’s midsection, his arrogant smile faltered, and she smirked. Without thinking, she brought a hoof up deftly and flicked the torch on, and a gout of flame exploded off of her, breaking on Discord’s chest and sending him reeling back with a surprised, alarmed expression. She dropped the torch only a moment later, struck with the strength and heat of the flame, and the jet of fire cut off as the torch’s rim gouged the deck.

“Ugh, fine! I yield, I yield,” Discord cried, and Octavia only gasped, tired and surprised. “But not without a parting shot.” He snapped his fingers once more; at the sound, the cords holding the balloon, cold and wet, broke apart with a deadly twang, and they were suddenly falling through blind clouds, the draconequus gone.

It was a sensation she had never felt before. Suddenly weightless, she flailed impotently for something to hold, but as she did so, the deck seemed to back away from her. The torch rolled clumsily down and shattered against the gunwale, and she slid, fell, and then flew off the sides with the others.

Her ears roared with rushing air, and the clouds opened up underneath them. She, and Twilight beside her, were powerlessly tumbling, twirling, and twisting in the whipping, shredding wind. The ship was a giant splinter behind them, a momentary blotch in their whirling vision, and Manehattan, and the partial lake around it, was a hole as big as the earth itself. She didn’t scream; she was frozen. Her mind refused to think, and all her instincts—to struggle, to yell for help, to simply escape—were petrified. Discord’s laughter filled her ears.

The cold air hammered at her body and her face, and she could hardly keep her eyes open, even as she leveled out. She could see the city below, huge and gray and cracked, rimmed with deep blue, and seemingly static under her. The sky was tremendous, and as Twilight drifted out of her peripheries, she slowly lost the sensation of falling. She was simply suspended in the cold and the noise, the shadow of the city and the lake beneath her like a picture she would never fall into.

For minutes, she was poised over Manehattan, and slowly, slowly, the ground grew larger in her eyes. She could see a split in the countryside, and dull, shadowy brown at its bottom. She could see a small hollow, a nearby meadow, a little ravine by it. She could see the individual trees. She closed her eyes.

“Ha! Just kidding!” Another snap, and in a single, disorienting instant, she felt herself pulled bodily away, thrust onto her hooves, and freed from the momentum and the sound of the air. She opened her eyes; they were all back, standing, cringing, crying, on the ship’s deck, floating gently to the ground. Discord was nowhere to be seen, but it had been his voice that initiated the change.

“Just kidding again.”

They fell again, only for a few seconds, and landed with the sickening sound of wood splintering on hard earth. Everyone cried out, except Octavia, who only exhaled slowly as she looked around. Applejack was getting to her hooves, Rainbow and Fluttershy were climbing out of the hatch, and the others simply lay on the deck, eyes closed and faces twisted up in distress.

“Uh, girls? We got a fire,” Rainbow said shakily.

Octavia’s head whipped back to the hatch, where she could see smoke rising, and, she thought, hear the crackle of flames under the others’ moaning and crying. She paused only for a second. “Everyone off the ship!” she commanded, moving quickly over to Rarity and helping her up. “Someone lower the plank.”

The deck was suddenly full of frightened scrambling, and it was a minute before Rainbow had the walkway lowered, a minute in which no one seemed to know what to do, except move and tremble while the fire ate at the ship’s inside. By the time Rainbow had the gangplank down, flames were already licking at the hatch’s edge, and Octavia hastened to help Rarity down while Applejack did the same for Twilight, who followed her with a vacant expression.

As soon as they were all on the grass outside the ship, Octavia turned and, without looking back, galloped back up the plank, ignoring the others’ protests. Only one caught her attention: “Octavia, those fuel canisters are still in the engine room!”

She didn’t stop. Fire was already spreading up the ship’s back, and its heat repelled her as she crossed onto the damaged deck, scattered with bags and supplies. She grabbed a satchel of books and swung them over the rail, then an unrolled sleeping bag, all the while searching for her cello among the mess. Her legs were already sore from lifting the torch, and her jaw and neck were quickly tiring from the exertion, but she moved with determination and patience, picking through the supplies for what she deemed the most worthy of salvage.

When she reached her cello case, only lightly scratched, the fire was traveling along the ship’s sides, and she had to run to the front to avoid throwing her instrument through a tapestry of flames. The case was hot in her hooves, and her body was aching with the heat surrounding it, but she didn’t relent in her task, even as she adjusted and readjusted her burden to avoid burning herself on its metal hinges. In her desperation, both to hurry off the ship and rid herself of the scalding hunk of wood, she threw it carelessly over the side, forced to pray that she would be able to recover it afterwards.

Even at the ship’s front, the wood sizzled and hissed, and she had to dance away in places to avoid burning her hooves; the back was an inferno that was almost too hot to look at, burning her face when she so much as turned toward it. She could hear the others calling for her below, and their terrified voices, mixed with the rushing flames and the anxiety of the impending explosion, scrambled inside her head into a feverish desperation that blotted out everything but the heat, the pain, and the surrounding crackle of fire. Her body stung as she ran back to the ship’s middle, and she could see her fur singing in places, feel her skin blistering. She beat a small fire off of another bag and grabbed it between her teeth, dropping it with a cry of pain as a rivet touched her lip. “I need to get out of here.”

Fluttershy healed Twilight first. As soon as they were off the ship, she crouched down by Twilight and, after a minute of concentration, dispelled what she suspected was a concussion. She did the same for Applejack, who insisted she didn’t need it, and then Rarity, for whom, as near as Fluttershy could tell, the pain was entirely mental—a trick of Discord’s. While she tended to her friends, Octavia was on the burning ship, lobbing sacks of supplies and sleeping bags off like bombs, their contents unceremoniously bursting out on the meadow.

While supplies rained down, Rainbow Dash and Applejack hastened to get them away from the ship, collecting them in a disorganized pile near Twilight, who only watched, mesmerized and worried. As she watched the fires climb higher, covering the sides and swallowing the gunwales, she imagined Octavia in the middle of it all, still throwing their things out, forcing herself against the heat with an effort she could not imagine. She trembled where she sat, eyes locked on the burning hulk of their ship, and Fluttershy wordlessly put a wing around her.

When Octavia finally came down, the plank had fallen away, and she had to jump. She landed hard, but slowly pulled herself their way, her coat patched with blackened dots and her chest heaving. No one rushed to her. Twilight was frozen with Fluttershy holding her, Rainbow and Applejack were still moving supplies, and Pinkie and Rarity could only watch in mortified disbelief.

When Octavia stopped in front of them, her eyes were still steely. “We need to get away before it explodes. Can you lift these supplies?”

It was a few moments before Twilight realized it was she to whom Octavia had directed the question. “Oh, uh, yes.” She activated a levitation spell and grabbed their things in a single, massive cloud, and Octavia called for Rainbow and Applejack. They brought the last of their supplies, and Twilight encompassed them in her spell.

They trotted away from the ship as quickly as they could, Octavia limping in the back. When she called for a halt, the ship was a small mote of light in the distance, a colossal pillar of smoke rising from it and spreading into the sky, cloudless.

As they watched it, catching their breath, its back end exploded outwards with a force that made them wince. Fire and debris sprayed across the meadow and rocked the ship off its kilter, and it slowly tilted to the ground, exposing its collapsed deck. All that remained was a skeletal remain, burning hungrily in the flowers and the grass.

The only sound in response was the mixed weeping of Twilight and Fluttershy.

When everyone had calmed down, and the ship was a smoldering husk in the distance, Rainbow was the first to speak. “So, can anyone tell me just what the hell happened?”

Octavia was lying in the grass, breathing slowly and trying not to move. Her chest was a blackened stain. “That was Discord, was it not?”

“Yeah, that was definitely him,” Twilight said shakily.

“He… he… was in me,” Pinkie said quietly.

“Yeah, I’d like to talk about that,” Rainbow said.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of an explanation,” Twilight said. “It was probably just a low-level possession spell. He must have sneaked on and gotten inside Pinkie’s… being, I guess, when we weren’t paying attention.”

“I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said,” Pinkie said. “You know, about cutting the ropes, and then laughing at you all.”

“You gave us a right scare, Pinkie,” Applejack said, hugging her. “But we understand.”

“You’re better now, right?” Fluttershy asked.

Pinkie nodded. “Just a little shook up. No biggie.” She offered a smile.

“But why would he attack us here?” Rarity asked.

“To disrupt our progress, I’d guess,” Twilight said.

“Maybe he’s afraid of us,” Applejack said darkly.

“I highly doubt that, Applejack,” Rarity said.

“But why would he come at us so quick, just to run off like that? Don’t you think that’s kinda strange?”

“He definitely did run away sooner than he needed to,” Twilight said.

“Oh, are you sure?” Fluttershy asked. “I mean, Octavia did, um, use the torch on him.”

“Yeah, I want to talk about that too,” Rainbow said. “Octavia.” She looked at Octavia on the grass, her face tight with pain. “That was awesome. Seriously, the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen. I had no idea you were that strong. Twilight, what are you doing?”

Twilight was digging through a bag. “I have to write to Princess Celestia.”

“Now? Darling, can’t it wait?” Rarity asked.

“No, it can’t. We just encountered Discord outside Manehattan. What if he was coming from there? What if he just got done doing something awful there?”

She wrote for ten minutes, in which everyone merely milled around, rested, looked unhappily at the city, or stared into the distance. When she was done, she cast a spell over their supplies, except Octavia’s cello, for which she didn’t have room, placing them all in the same magical, immaterial dimension where she kept the ink and brush for her sigils. They had between twenty and thirty miles to cover before reaching the shores of Starlight Lake, where they would need to find a way to cross. Octavia said that they could only hope that the nearest bridge was not broken.

Around mid-afternoon, they rested under a pair of trees overlooking a gap in the ground. They had mostly gotten over the scare that Discord had given them, and chatted pleasantly as they went along; only Twilight remained quiet, looking down at the ground for the majority of their walk. For her, the fall was a salient and jarring return to the night of the battle. The snap of strings holding them aloft, followed by the rush of air, the angry wind, the cold and the fear: they had all brought her back.

While they prepared a small lunch of their rations, Fluttershy addressed Octavia’s burns, and was able to shrink many of them to nothing. Her own magic was mostly depleted, and Octavia insisted that she not tire herself. The wounds would heal, and the pain would pass, she said.

They were cleaning up their lunch and appraising the gap when Rainbow spoke again. “So, Octavia, I have to ask. I’m not saying what you did wasn’t totally awesome and amazing, ‘cause it was, but what possessed you to go running back up into the ship like that? Our stuff isn’t that valuable.”

“My cello is important to me, and I know that Twilight’s books are important to her. That is enough reason for me to go back.”

“But weren’t you scared?” Rarity asked.

“Yes. But I have learned not to hesitate in dangerous or stressful situations. Being a musician has taught me that lesson.”

“Well, thank goodness for that.”

“Thank goodness for that good ol’ earth pony strength,” Applejack said.

“Here, here!” Pinkie cried.

“It’s true. It was Octavia’s quick thinking and strength that saved us,” Rarity said.

Applejack moved over to pat Octavia on the back. “Ah reckon we owe our lives to you.”

“I only did what I had to,” Octavia said tersely. She looked at Twilight. “You have been very quiet.”

“She’s just upset ‘cause of the fall!” Pinkie said.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Rainbow said.

“We were inside the engine room the whole time, though,” Fluttershy said.

“Yeah, plus you two got wings. It wasn’t such a nice trip fer us non-flyers,” Applejack said.

“I thought it was fun!” Pinkie said.

“I certainly did not,” Rarity said. “The wind absolutely ruined my mane.” She sighed. “Not that it was looking that good to begin with.”

“I’m fine,” Twilight said, standing. “Let’s just bring this ground back together.”

“You sound reluctant, darling.”

Twilight hesitated. “I’m afraid Discord will show up again,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, well, he’d have to get through us first,” Applejack said.

“I’m afraid that won’t be too difficult for him, if he sets his mind to it,” Rarity said.

“It’s fine, girls,” Twilight said with a sigh. “I’m just… yeah, I’m just upset about… everything. I’ll be okay.”

They backed away and sat down as she began producing the sigil. It was starting to become routine for them, and they all found their minds wandering instead of watching her draw the symbol. They chatted idly, and before long, the ground was coming back together with the rough grinding sound they were quickly becoming accustomed to.

They went to Twilight and helped her up, but before they could move on, she stopped and lowered her horn; it glowed, and a small sliver of flame sliced out of its tip and materialized into a scroll.

She read it aloud, her voice dull. “Dear Twilight, thank you for alerting me. We have seen no signs of Discord yet, and are both heartened and unsettled by your encounter. If he is nearby, as he seems to be, we should find him soon, though I am not happy that he now has the time to harass you all. It appears we must both make haste. In love and friendship, Princess Celestia.”

She looked around at them, and they returned her expression, wordlessly asking for more. “That’s all she said,” Twilight said.

“Shall we, then?” Rarity asked.

They resumed walking.

The sun was creeping toward nighttime, and they had reached a set of train tracks, deformed. High spirits had been dulled by constant walking, and Twilight’s discomfort had waned; only Octavia seemed to be suffering. Despite her assertions against their severity, her remaining burns ate into her body like acid, and she carried herself with a powerful limp that, upon questioning, she attributed to a twisted pastern. That, coupled with the thick, throbbing cramp in her shoulders from carrying her unsteady cello case, its lid snapped open and the instrument bound inside with a length of cord, made for a head-to-hoof ache that made her want to curl up and sleep until it disappeared. She didn’t complain.

While Twilight examined the train tracks, which led in an imperfect curve to Manehattan, the others set up camp.

“Y’know, Ah just thought of somethin’,” Applejack said. “With Discord on the loose now, we might want to set up a night watch. Just in case he decides to come back.”

“Oh, you don’t think he will, though, right?” Fluttershy asked.

“Ah can’t say. Ah don’t know anythin’ ‘bout him, or his motives.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Rarity said. “We should have somepony watch tonight.”

“Two someponies!” Pinkie said. “With only one somepony, they’ll get really tired!”

“Who’s it gonna be?” Rainbow said. “I immediately vote for not it!” she added hastily.

“Well, I can’t stay up all night,” Rarity said. “I simply must get my required eight hours, or I’ll be an absolute bear tomorrow.”

“Ah, uh, Ah get up earlier than y’all anyway, so Ah think Ah should get more sleep,” Applejack said, rubbing the back of her head uncomfortably.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rainbow said.

“What are we talking about?” Twilight asked, walking back over.

“We’re settin’ up a night watch,” Applejack said. “Or tryin’ to.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Applejack. Um, who’s it going to be?”

“Um, I guess I could do it, if, um, if you want,” Fluttershy said.

“Fluttershy, you’re too weak to stay up that late,” Rainbow said, and Fluttershy shrunk.

“I’m feeling better,” she said timidly.

“I can do it!” Pinkie said. “It’ll be like a slumber party, but without the slumber part! And I’m not tired at all!”

“Who else then?” Rainbow asked.

Applejack looked at Octavia, and they all followed her example.

Octavia sighed. “Fine. I can do it. I will take the first shift.”

“Good fer you, Octavia,” Applejack said.

“We should switch tomorrow night,” Twilight said.

“Do you think we’ll even need a watch when we’re in the city?” Rarity asked.

Twilight thought. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”

“You sure you wanna take the first shift, Tavi?” Pinkie asked.

Octavia was already walking around the campsite, studying the scenery. “Yes. I will wake you at two in the morning, Pinkamena.”

“Okey-dokey-lokey!”

They set up their sleeping bags around a small fire, which Twilight concocted from the few bits of dried grass and their old food containers. They passed a bag of no-longer-fresh apples from Sweet Apple Acres among each other, speaking sparsely of the attack, Octavia’s heroism, and Manehattan.

“Twilight, I must confess, I am dreadfully afraid of Discord returning,” Rarity said.

“I think we all are,” Twilight said, poking at the fire.

“But we all survived him this time,” Rainbow said, trying to sound optimistic.

“And that whole first night,” Pinkie said.

Twilight didn’t respond, and neither did Rarity. They stared into the fire.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Rarity said at last.

“You know all that fancy defense magic that Celestia showed you,” Rainbow said, giving Rarity an encouraging grin.

“Yes, I do.”

“An’ Twilight an’ Pinkie both have a ton of magical powers,” Applejack said.

“Heeeey, yeah,” Rainbow said. She looked at Pinkie skeptically. “Pinkie, why didn’t you use your magic when Discord attacked today?”

Pinkie giggled. “Oh, I dunno. I guess it just slipped my mind!”

“Oh, Pinkie, I know how you feel,” Fluttershy said. “It’s so easy to forget sometimes. You just get so used to living like a non-magical pony.”

“Yeah, Ah bet it’s somethin’, havin’ magic,” Applejack said.

“Aw, don’t get down on us like that, Applejack,” Rainbow said. “I don’t have magic either.”

“You have magic, Rainbow! It’s just not very good!” Pinkie said.

“Thanks, Pinkie. I’m glad you cleared that up for everyone.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dashie!”

Rainbow rolled her eyes, Twilight stared back into the coals, lost in thought.

“Octavia, you know what to do if something happens, right?” Twilight asked, crawling into her sleeping bag.

“I just wake you all up.”

“Yeah, you got it.”

“I may be unaccustomed to playing the role of night watchmare, but I am not dumb.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Do not worry. What do you want me to do with the fire?”

“If you can find anything to keep it going, go for it, but I don’t think you will.” Twilight thought for a moment. “I guess it’s okay for you to let it burn out.”

“Very well.” Octavia took a spot on the far side of the fire, putting herself just on the edge of its protective circle. It had died to a low glow of embers and occasional, straggling tongues of flame.

Twilight muttered a soft “good night,” and Octavia turned to face the train tracks, her back comfortably warm. For several minutes, she listened to the sounds of the ponies settling in for a restful sleep, and then heard someone approach from behind.

“Hey, Tavi,” Pinkie said softly.

Octavia turned and raised her eyebrow, her way of acknowledging that she had heard.

“Um, can we talk?”

Octavia frowned, only slightly. “About what?”

“My name.”

“Your name?”

“Um… would you mind calling me ‘Pinkie,’ and not ‘Pinkamena’? That’s not my name anymore.”

“I will always think of you as Pinkamena,” Octavia said seriously.

“I know. But can you at least call me the name my friends use? Please?”

Octavia turned back around, her frown deepening. She didn’t want Pinkie to see it. “Why should I?” she hissed.

“Please? Can’t you just do it? It’s just two syllables.”

Octavia thought, her mind clouded with pain. She shifted her weight. “I will honor your request if you call me by my proper name.”

“You mean—”

“No. Octavia. My name is Octavia Melody.”

“Not… okay. Um, Octavia. Oooh, it feels weird to call you that,” Pinkie said, perking up a little.

Octavia nodded. “Pinkie, then.”

Pinkie giggled, then sobered again. “Thanks, sis. Octavia.”

“I am simply glad to reach an agreement.”

“Yeah. Uh…”

“Yes?”

Pinkie looked at her, then back at the campsite. “Um… never mind.” Before Octavia could stop her, she ran over and embraced her. “That’s all, Octavia! G’night!” She walked back to her sleeping bag, and Octavia didn’t watch her go.

She faced the darkness, and as soon as she heard Pinkie’s snores, she knew she was alone. She sighed and settled herself on the grass, and set to watching the empty field, her eyes trained for any movement, any odd flash of light, any incongruous shadow. She could see the line of railroad tracks in the distance, and beyond those, the lights of Manehattan, scattered loosely. Many of them were stacked in the thick obelisk of Rose Tower, a dark monolith. Crickets sang in the dark.

As the firelight faded behind her, and she grew accustomed to the sounds of the night, her thoughts began to wander. She thought of her sister, of her magical powers, and those that may dwell within herself. She wanted to ask Twilight, but was hesitant. “Of course, I will need to find out more about it first. Can this unlocking process be reversed? Will it hurt? What if I do not have any magic? Or what if I have too much, like Pinkamena? Er, Pinkie. Yes, she wants to be called that now.”

She sighed and looked up at the stars, then back out into the distance. It was empty. No trees, no stones, no real hills or valleys to speak of. It would be very easy for her to spot anything approaching. “But Discord is smart,” she thought apprehensively. “If he approaches, he will not do so from the front. Probably not from above, either. Where, then?”

As the night wore on, and different thoughts crowded through her head, only the idea of Discord’s second attack kept returning. Scenario after scenario played out in her mind. In some, he appeared suddenly in the middle of the campsite and wreaked merciless havoc on the group, giving her no time to react, or even wake them; in some, he appeared right behind her, incapacitating her before starting with the others; in some, he destroyed them all silently, leaving her to find them when she went to wake Pinkie for her shift. She breathed slowly and deeply, focusing on the breeze, the grass, and the moon. Relaxing things.

It was midnight, by her estimation, when she heard something new. She stood up, suddenly alert, and studied the area around them. Her initial thought was that Discord had come back, but as she stood, still and ready, she heard no further noise. She looked back at the campsite.

The fire had long since gone out, but a small, dim halo still sat around the glowing embers. Nothing revealed itself to her in the darkness, and the small sound repeated, longer. It took her a few seconds of careful listening to realize that it was breathing; heavy and uneven breathing, from one of the ponies before her. She entered the campsite slowly and looked at them all, trying to see who it was, but could not tell in the darkness. As she passed between the sleeping bags, the breathing turned into the sound that had initially caught her attention: a sharp exhale, followed by a stuttering of the same sound.

“Crying?” Octavia thought, puzzled. She remained still and watched the bags, studying each for any movement. After a minute, she saw it in Twilight’s.

Octavia sat down and considered, dismayed. “What do I do in this situation? Do I try to comfort her? How? She does not know me, nor I her.” She stood up and turned around. “She would be embarrassed that I saw her in this state.” She walked back out to her spot, out in the darkness. The sound of Twilight’s crying remained with her. “Or she might be grateful for someone to be with her.”

The idea bothered her. Staring into the darkness, her burned back to the fire, her leg injured, and her mind beset with doubts, dreams, and memories, she was hardened. “Comfort does not come from charitable strangers, or wanton kindness, nor should it. These things will only soften her. And if what I have seen today is any indication of how our quest will go, then there can be no softness.” She glowered into the shadow, and memories came back. A dark shadow in the distance, slowly sinking to its knees. She looked down, and as Twilight’s weeping persisted, her own eyes began to water.

“After everything, you still run.” She thought of her old life, her apartment. The memory of them had dulled in the days on the ship, but it still smoldered in her mind, unresolved. She had avoided thinking much about it, and in the darkness, it returned to her. There was nothing she could do; she was too deep into the journey to turn around. She took no comfort in the thought.

An hour later, Twilight quieted.

“Good morning, Octavia,” Twilight said.

“Good morning, Twilight. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, yes. I slept like a foal. I’m surprised to see you up; I thought for sure you’d be sleeping still.”

“Oh, no. I did not wake Pinkie last night.”

“What? Wait, so did you stay awake the entire night?”

“Yes.”

Twilight frowned. “Do you realize why I wanted there to be two watchmares last night?”

“I felt no fatigue. I thought that I would save her the trouble.”

“Octavia, you’re going to be exhausted today! You’re going to be no help at all!”

“All we will be doing is walking, if I recall. Surely you do not need my help for that.”

“You know what I mean! If you’re not slowing us down, you’re going to be complaining about being tired.”

“I am capable of keeping my discomfort to myself,” Octavia said impatiently.

Twilight shook her head angrily. “I can’t believe you.”

“I have stayed awake for days at a time before. For me, this is nothing.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes at Octavia, who matched her angry stare with a look of indifference. “I just don’t think it’s the most efficient thing to do,” Twilight said haughtily.

“I assure you, I know what I am doing.”

She and Twilight spoke quietly while the others woke up, and for the next hour, they ate, cleared their camp, and bathed in a small, nearby canal. When they began moving, Fluttershy walked beside Octavia, lecturing her where Twilight had left off.

“It’s just not healthy for you, Octavia. Your body needs to rest every night, otherwise it can’t function properly.”

“I know all of this, Fluttershy. Really, I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine. I know what I am doing,” Octavia said patiently.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you do it?”

“I am not comfortable saying.”

Fluttershy looked away, and only spoke after a minute of tense silence. “Is it… is it bad dreams?”

“I have nightmares, yes, just as any pony.”

“But that’s no reason to not sleep,” Fluttershy said, encouraged. “I mean, I’ve been having nightmares too, but I still sleep.”

“You say that as though they are uncommon for you.”

Fluttershy paused. “Well, a little. I don’t know, but just all of a sudden, I’ve been having a lot of bad dreams. For the last week it seems.”

“Since we left Canterlot.”

“Oh, um, yes. That’s about when they started. Is… is that happening to you too?”

Octavia thought long before answering. “Yes.”

“But that’s no excuse to make yourself go without sleep,” Fluttershy said.

Octavia sighed, and they walked together for several minutes, quiet. No one was speaking much as they traversed the empty fields toward Starlight Lake.

“How often do you have bad dreams usually?” Fluttershy finally asked.

“Not often. Maybe once a week.”

“Oh. Well, that’s no so bad, is it?”

“It is not their frequency, but their intensity that bothers me.”

“Um, intensity? I don’t know what you mean,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“Every time I have one, I wake up, my heart racing, and drenched in sweat.” She closed her eyes, and Fluttershy looked at her carefully. She was still limping. “It is not something I can easily describe.”

“Um… okay.”

Octavia took a breath. “Imagine the most traumatic event of your life replayed every time you have a bad dream. And imagine that you do not know when the next one will come.”

Fluttershy looked away, her face thoughtful. “Oh, um… I understand. I think. And I’m sorry for bothering you about it all.”

“You are curious. I understand.”

“Um… I still think you need to get more sleep, though. I bet you’re exhausted right now.”

“Yes.”

“We can stop,” Fluttershy offered. “I mean, if you want to.”

“I will not hold up the others for this,” Octavia said.