“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” Rarity asked, shocked.

Pinkie giggled. “I mean ‘nothing’!”

“You didn’t see anything?”

“Nope! Sorry, Rarity.” Rarity sighed and sat down on her haunches.

For a moment, it was quiet, and then Twilight spoke, her voice stern. “So, Rarity, how’d you like to explain why you cast a spell down here without warning me?”

They all jumped at her question, Rarity most of all; without even looking, she could tell Twilight was mad. How much had she seen?

“T-Twilight, darling. You’re… you’re out.”

“Yes, Rarity, I am. And you’re very lucky that Fluttershy was smart enough to come up and wait for me, or I could have broken your concentration, and maybe hurt Pinkie.”

Rarity looked up at her, chastised. “I’m sorry, Twilight.”

“You should be. Have you never cast a spell on somepony before?”

“Er, well—”

“That’s one of the first rules you learn in magic school, Rarity. You have to let everypony in the vicinity know you’re casting, so they don’t go accidentally breaking your concentration.” She let the words hang for a moment, and said, simply, “I’m surprised at you.”

Rarity hung her head. “I’m sorry, Twilight.”

“You should be apologizing to Pinkie; she’s the one you endangered.”

Rarity looked at Pinkie, who watched the exchange with a dim, uncomfortable expression. “I’m sorry, Pinkie.”

She brightened immediately. “It’s okay, Rarity! We all make mistakes sometimes!” She bounded over to Rarity and hugged her.

“Twilight, is all this really necessary?” Rainbow asked. “It’s just a little sigil.”

Twilight looked at her as though she had asked something exceedingly simple. “Yes, Dash, it is. If I had come down and broken Rarity’s concentration, Pinkie could have sustained some very serious mental injuries. Memory loss, at the very least.”

“Um, Twilight,” Fluttershy began, “I’m sorry too. I should have tried harder to convince them not to do it.”

“Fluttershy,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes, “you don’t need to apologize. Celestia knows you’re the least guilty here.”

“Hey!” Rainbow started, but was quelled by a hushed “not now, Rainbow,” from Applejack.

Twilight shook her head. “Let’s forget about it. What’s done is done, and, like I said, we don’t need to be fighting tonight. Applejack, would you check on the balloon?” Applejack trotted out to the library’s front, and Twilight’s voice grew serious again. “Now, why did you cast this spell, Rarity?”

“Well, we wanted Pinkie to see—”

“I already know it was a clairvoyance spell; I recognized the sigil. But what did you want her to see?”

“We were just curious about what’s going on in Canterlot,” Rainbow said.

Twilight nodded. “I understand. Pinkie, you say you didn’t see anything?”

“Yup! Nothing at all! Not a thing!”

“Do you suppose the spell went wrong, Twilight?” Fluttershy asked.

“I doubt it. Unless Rarity left a crucial part of the sigil out, Pinkie should have seen something, even if it was just gibberish.” She looked at Rarity. Her eyes were still annoyed, but there was a glint of pride there too. “But I know she didn’t leave something that important out, because the sigil vanished just like it’s supposed to.”

“So what does it mean?” Rarity asked.

“You could have accidentally sent her somewhere where there just wasn’t anything to see; somewhere deep underground, maybe. Or…” she thought for a moment. “I guess there could be a counter-spell around the city.” She thought. “But to black out all of Canterlot like that? That would take one powerful spell; I don’t think even I could do it.” She stopped, and Applejack walked back in.

“What’s wrong, Twilight?” Pinkie asked, bouncing closer.

“Unless Princess Celestia cast it,” Twilight said slowly. “But why would she want to blot out Canterlot?”

“Perhaps it was always there. You know, for security purposes,” Rarity said.

“Maybe.”

“Is there a way for you to check how old the spell is?” Fluttershy asked.

“Yes, but we don’t have time. At least, I don’t think we do. Applejack, how’s the balloon?”

“Spike says we got ‘bout ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes! Definitely no time for a spell that complex. Okay girls, let’s get ready.”

The night air was cool and striking against their coats, contrasting with the library’s warm, homey air, making them shiver. Spike was pacing around the balloon, clearly bored out of his mind, but he brightened when Twilight emerged.

“Twilight! Are you guys ready?”

“Yes, Spike.”

“Do you know what’s going on in Canterlot yet?”

“No. In fact, we know even less now than we did before,” Twilight said, once more looking up at the smoke-clad palace.

“It sounded like an argument in there. Is everything okay?”

“Rarity cast a seeing spell on Pinkie, but she couldn’t see anything in Canterlot.”

“So? Doesn’t Celestia have some sort of counter-spell erected so no one can spy on the city?”

“I don’t remember ever hearing about one,” Twilight said, looking back at the still-open library door. She shook her head lightly. “But I can’t check now. We’re almost ready to go, right?”

“Right! Give it about five minutes.”

“Thank you, Spike. I really appreciate this, especially so late at night.”

“Oh, it’s nothing your number one assistant can’t handle,” he said proudly.

“You’re absolutely right,” Twilight said, giving him a motherly smile. “In fact, why don’t you go inside and go back to sleep? We can take it from here.”

“And not see you off? I wouldn’t dream of it.” He glanced at Rarity.

“You’re such a gentleman, Spike,” Rarity said, giving him a smile; he blushed and looked away.

When the balloon was ready, its fabric bulb stretched with air and hanging over the dusty street like a cloud, everyone piled into the basket, except for Rainbow Dash, who elected to fly outside. With two more than the balloon’s usual crew, the basket was cramped, and Twilight had to hang off the side to give the others room to adjust.

“You’ll be okay flying behind us, Rainbow?” Rarity asked.

“Oh yeah, no prob,” she said, waving a hoof dismissively.

Twilight looked back to make sure they were all ready, and cut a couple sandbags off. The balloon shuddered for a moment, and then slowly began to rise, up into the library boughs, past the treetop, and out over the neighborhood.

“Once we get high enough, I’m going to push us as fast as I can,” Twilight said. They all nodded, and Pinkie began vibrating with excitement.

“I love balloon rides! Don’t you guys? The air going whoosh past us and the clouds going swish below us and the ground going all teeny-tiny! It’s like we’re all Rainbow Dash tonight!”

“Pinkie, that’s kind of a creepy thing to say,” Rainbow said.

“We should have a party in the balloon!” She gasped. “Ohmygosh! Why didn’t I think of it before? We can have a party on the balloon! We can have music and cake and dancing and confetti and balloons and punch and streamers and it’ll all be in the sky!” She hopped up and down, producing a flurry of confetti that landed on their heads and tickled Twilight’s nose.

“Pinkie, where do you get all these party supplies?” Applejack asked.

“Oh, you know the saying, Applejack! Always be ready for a party!”

Twilight almost told Pinkie that that was not what she meant, but decided against it. Her seemingly inexhaustible supply of situational items was one of the mysteries that made Pinkie that much more fun to have around. It was like she had magic of her own.

They were approaching a small bank of low clouds, and Twilight looked down. She watched Spike shrink into a smudge, then a dot, and then just part of the texturing of the land beneath them, itself losing its details in place of shadowy contours of hill and meadow.

“Twilight, Ah’ve got a question,” Applejack said.

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t we just take the train?” Twilight frowned. In all the nervous energy, and the haste, and the urgency of the past hour, she had never once considered the possibility.

“Wouldn’t it take too long?” Rarity asked. “From Ponyville to Canterlot is about two hours, and that’s just Lower Canterlot, not the palace. We would need to take another train up the mountain.”

“Which might not be possible, depending on what kind of emergency they’re having,” Twilight said. “In this, it’s a straight shot up the mountain.” She narrowed her eyes at their destination. “A long one, but a straight one.”

“Yeah, uh, on that topic, how are you going to steer us?” Rainbow asked.

“I was thinking a wind-making spell would be our best option.”

“You can do that?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s quite a powerful spell,” Rarity said.

“It was actually one of the last lessons I learned before I left Canterlot; back then, I thought it was kind of a strange thing to learn, but I guess it all makes sense now.”

“Oh, do you think Celestia knew you’d be needing to move the balloon around like this?” Fluttershy asked.

“I’m not sure. I suppose that would make sense.”

“Wait, so if you learned to control the winds so long ago, how come you always have me and the weather crews change them for you when you need to fly places?” Rainbow asked, flying over to the front to look at Twilight indignantly.

“Because it’s much easier. Controlling the winds magically can be incredibly taxing, especially if it’s done for a long time. Like tonight.” She looked down at Ponyville, then out at Canterlot. The mysterious smoke still lay over the city, and fireworks still burst intermittently. She took a deep breath of the cool air. It was chilly at their altitude, and she knew it would only get worse; from where she stood, she could control the wind best, but it would also be slicing at their backs the whole time.
“I’m going to start my spell now. Nopony break my concentration. It’s a delicate spell; if I make a mistake, we could wind up on the other side of the mountain.”

“Don’t worry, Twilight,” Rarity said.

“We won’t say a word,” Fluttershy added.

“Not a thing,” Applejack assured her.

“Pinkie?” Twilight looked at her pink friend, who mimed zipping her mouth closed. “Good.”

She looked out into the empty expanse of sky before her, trying to calculate their time from the palace. The mountain was a mere forty miles away, a little less than two hours, if she could keep the wind up. Greater Canterlot was already level with the balloon, a glowing collection of thin buildings, like the shining points of a hundred candlelit needles. Nearby, a silvery path of waterfalls made its way down the mountain, flowing out to bisect the forests and fields below and then running back to encircle Ponyville, before vanishing into the Everfree Forest.

She began focusing her magic. At first, there was nothing, but soon the natural breeze had turned into a gust, and it pushed them along firmly. She could feel the basket tugging behind the balloon, the wind biting through her coat, but did not look away from her goal. To keep the balloon from drifting into any existing currents, she had to surround it with a cone of wind, all moving in the same direction, at the same speed. To look away for an instant could break her focus, potentially releasing the winds and sending the balloon spinning uselessly about.

Behind her, her friends were stirring, but quiet, and she was grateful; she knew they were tempted to complain about the chill. She tried to make out some details as to Canterlot’s situation, but could determine no more than a sense of nebulous unease. Many houses were alight, but the palace was mostly dark. Every now and then, a firework went off.

“Why are there so few fireworks?” Rainbow asked, to no response. Twilight hadn’t thought about it, but Rainbow was right; why were there so few fireworks? Every party with fireworks that she’d ever seen had had them in abundance; here, they were isolated incidents, punctuating an otherwise quiet night.

Rainbow Dash, her eyes the keenest in the group, was the first to see it after about an hour and a half of peaceful, but tense, flying. “Guys… I… I think someone’s attacking Canterlot.”

Twilight felt the jolt that went through her friends at Rainbow’s words, but her first thought was, “That’s simply not possible.” But, of course, it was possible. But by whom? Why? Celestia had told her once that the last war to be fought was more than two hundred years ago, and that the very idea of armed conflict had more or less passed out of social consciousness, at least in the northern section of Equestria. “Maybe it’s just a demonstration,” she thought desperately. But, in her heart, she felt that it was not so.

Not wanting to break her concentration, or the thin veil of untouchability she had erected, she didn’t turn from her position or otherwise indicate that she had heard. She was frantic to know more, though; what precisely did Rainbow see? She herself could make out lights and motion, but from those things alone she dared not conclude a battle.

There was a shuffling behind her, and Applejack spoke, asking what Twilight would have. “What d’ya see, Rainbow?”

A pause, while Rainbow studied the scene before them all. “I see… ponies, obviously. But there’s thousands of them, on the ground. Some look like Celestia’s royal guards, and the others look,” she paused again, “I can’t tell. They look different, though.”

“What about the fireworks?” Rarity asked.

“I don’t know. There are huge clouds of pegasi up above the city, too. I think they’re fighting. It’s the same thing: royal guards, and a bunch of others.”

“What about the city? Are the ponies that live there okay?” Fluttershy asked.

“I can’t see that well, but it looks like some of the houses are on fire.”

Fluttershy gasped a tiny “oh no.”

“That’s not a very nice party,” Pinkie said sulkily.

“How long d’ya reckon it’ll be before we settle down?” Applejack asked.

“Maybe twenty minutes ‘til we get there,” Rainbow said, “but I have no idea about landing this thing.”

Twilight stole a look down; the mountain’s slopes were beginning below them. Behind the sounds of blowing wind and groaning ropes, she could make out the roar of thousands of voices, ebbing back and forth against itself like an ocean, right above them.

She renewed her concentration, straining her already tiring mind to angle the tunnel of wind upwards. The sweat on her brow was freezing, and her eyes stung with the dry air, tears occasionally squeezing out and blurring her vision. She felt drained, and her hearing was muffled; the sounds of her friends’ worried conversation was but a meaningless babble to her.

And yet, the objective never left her mind. Canterlot was in trouble, and she had been called to its aid. Her body wanted to stop exerting itself and go back to sleep, but her mind was hard; she kept her spell going with a singularly determined thought, her mantra: “I can’t afford to fail here.” She had repeated it to herself countless times in her life, from when tiny black flowers bloomed in her eyes from the stress of battling the ursa minor, to when she was searching for a topic for her friendship report for Princess Celestia—the only time she had been late on an assignment, ever. The failure to herself still stung.

She repeated the phrase in her mind over and over, forcing herself to keep its repetition slow, steady, and deliberate; if it were to speed up, it could lose its meaning, and so provide the background noise for a panic attack.

They climbed the mountain, and Twilight made certain to keep giving the wind increases to its upward tilt, fearing they would brush against the mountainside—at their speed, a crash could very well destroy the balloon and leave them stranded in Canterlot’s shadow. The city hung above them like a raincloud, and she adjusted the wind slightly to push them up past the side of its lip, where they could float directly to the palace.

As they got closer, the sound, at first vague, became fuller and more distinctive. Screams and explosions peppered the tumult, in which Twilight could make out the sounds of hooves churning up the ground and hard bodies colliding. To her throbbing head and numb ears, it was the low sound of an unstoppable beast, and they were flying directly into its face. Her friends were moving with increased fear, shuffling to get better looks out, murmuring to one another, or letting out small moans of discomfort.

Twilight slowed the winds and released a couple more sandbags, letting the balloon float up naturally. She didn’t want to overshoot the city. It came down above them like a bad omen, its shadowy underside a huge, heavy curve of black concrete, and when they came up over its edge, her friends’ gasps told her all she had wanted to know, that her clouded eyes couldn’t give her.

The stony mountainside around the city was blackened and pockmarked, as legions of ponies in black armor swarmed from an uncertain origin toward the walls; many had fallen to perimeter defenses of archers and pegasus bombardiers, but several hundred had diffused through the barriers and into the town proper. The air above the city was a reflection of the war on the ground, with pegasi flying around one another in savage dogfights. Inside, the streets were filled with battling groups of ponies: guards and invaders broken into small pairs or trios, away from the command of the princesses and left to their own tactics. Many houses were aflame, and those that weren’t were locked up tight, the terrified ponies within praying the enemy would pass them. Behind the chaotic foreground, the palace stood proud and unmarred, but somehow different. Less welcoming.

To Twilight, all of this was meaningless color and motion, but the sounds were clear: explosions, screams, rumbles, and an occasional fizzing, sparkling wheeeeee that never ended in a bang as it sounded like it ought to. She stopped her magic entirely, and with some deep, calming breaths, her vision slowly cleared. As it did, she saw a new problem.

“Twilight, how are we supposed to get to the castle from here?” Rainbow asked.

She sighed, her heart sinking. “I don’t know. Does anypony have any ideas?”

“There’s no way we can get through this… battlefield in a balloon,” Rarity said, suppressing a swelling fear in her chest.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to have to try,” Twilight said, herself completely unconfident.

“Maybe we can land down here and slip through the fighting on hoof?” Applejack suggested.

“Yeah, if we wanna kill ourselves,” Rainbow said.

“Do you got a better idea?”

Rainbow had no response, and they hung above the scene uselessly, watching uncomprehendingly. Another firework cracked overhead. Twilight chewed her lip, weighing their options. Finally, she said, “We’ll go above it all, and descend directly onto the castle.”

“Twi, you can’t be serious,” Applejack said.

“What else is there?” she snapped, immediately regretting it. “Sorry, Applejack. It’s just… this.” She sighed, then squared her shoulders. “We’re too close to look for another way.” She looked down on the unfolding war once again; she had only seen sights like it in her books, and the image, rendered in frantic motion and nuanced shadow, made her stomach turn. “At least we’re already above it all.”

Applejack sighed. “Ah guess Ah’ve trusted you before, Twi. Lead on.”

“Thank you, Applejack. I know this is difficult for you all.” She looked down at the mountainside again. “It’s difficult for me too.” She looked back at them. Pinkie looked on with a blank expression, as if the smile had been forcefully sucked off her face; Fluttershy hid under a wing; Rarity only stared vacantly. “Rainbow, I need you to keep your eyes open and let me know immediately if someone is coming, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, all the brashness evaporated from her voice.

Twilight cut the remaining sandbags off, and they immediately began to float upwards, fast. No longer using her magic, she was thinking clearly, and the pressure of the situation was slowly seeping into her nerves; with it, an intensity of thought that drew her immediately into an unpleasant conclusion. “Girls, when we reach the palace, we’re going to need to descend really fast, so prepare yourselves now.”

“Oh, fast?” Fluttershy said.

“Yes, Fluttershy, fast,” Twilight said, leaning out the front of the balloon a little more, refocusing her magic into putting a fresh gust of wind at their backs. They were well above the raging battle, but not out of visual range. Twilight didn’t know what they would do if they were spotted; she was counting on it not happening. It was a terrible idea, she knew, to rely on luck to carry them over the nightmare, but no other options presented themselves.

Rainbow kept herself out ahead, flying in long loops before the balloon, doubling back and swooping around below them, watching. Nothing came; no one seemed to notice their ingress over the confused pell-mell of armor, wings, and weapons. The pegasi fought, a mere forty feet beneath them, so close that Twilight could hear individual battle cries and clashes of armor and blade. She felt like she was in a dream. How was it possible? Canterlot was peaceful, safe; no one had attacked it in her lifetime, her parents’ lifetimes. Her mind refused to process it.

They passed over a short, vertical ridge of uneven stone to rise into view of the palace. A small balcony lay out below, a white mote against the dark ground.

The balloon shifted slightly, and Twilight flared her horn to steady the wind. She dared not make it blow faster, lest the pegasi below be given cause to look around them.

Rarity looked tentatively over the edge. “How are they not noticing us?”

“I’m sure it’s because of the battle they’re having,” Twilight said. “It’s also nighttime, which helps.”

“They’re certainly not very observant. Er, not that I’m complaining.”

“Don’t make any assumptions yet,” Twilight said, watching Rainbow double back again. She hoped she would just pass underneath them and continue looking out, but as she came closer, Twilight observed a change in her orientation—she was heading straight towards the balloon this time, not underneath. A wave of gooseflesh shivered over her, and her heart immediately began to pound. She watched with sickening dread as Rainbow came up and stopped in front of her.

Breathless, she said, “I’m trying to distract them, but get ready for an attack.” She sped off into the swarm of pegasi, and was lost.

“Oh Celestia, oh Celestia, this is the end,” Fluttershy whispered tearfully, crouching in the bottom of the basket with her wings over her head.

“Twi, what are we gonna do?”

“Oh Celestia, oh Celestia,”

“Twilight, they’re coming!”

“What’s gonna happen?”

“Girls! Calm down!” Twilight shouted, alarm amplifying her voice more than anger ever could. She was conscious of the pressure on her: minutes maybe, probably less, to find a solution and save herself and her friends. Her throat constricted with fear and self-doubt as she spoke. “Get ready to fall.”

“What?” they all gasped.

She spoke more calmly. “Get ready to fall. I’m going to cut the basket away from the balloon.”

“Ya can’t be serious, Twi,” Applejack said, looking at her with a frown.

But Twilight had stopped paying attention, watching for approaching pegasi. Her friends stopped talking, taking the cue; they knew she needed to react instantly. Her eyes, sharpened from sudden, acute anxiety, scanned the dark, crowded air for their aggressors. They would be specks, mere dots of shadow in a swirling sea of black confetti, and she knew not from which direction they came. Above? Below? Behind? She looked everywhere she could, but only in tense, terror-struck half-moments, more flashes away from her forward position than anything else. How long did she have? What if it was too late—what if she had already missed them?

She swept her eyes across the vista of war once again, sweating and shaking, and stopped suddenly: three gleaming shapes, missiles, rocketing toward them, their armor shining greasily in the almost-light of the stars above and fires below.

There was no time to doubt her decision. With a small, frightened squeak, Twilight gave a single surge of willpower; the ropes frayed and separated. The flying ponies were swept upwards in a surge of wind and adrenaline.

Fluttershy and Rarity screamed, and Pinkie cheered. Twilight looked down at the tiny balcony, approaching fast as a comet. Her body was tight and tense, her throat and chest burning with acid and bile, her mind dead with fear. What were they doing? How was it possible? How was any of this possible?

Looking up quickly, she couldn’t see the pegasi in the mess of warfare. She shook her head, and suddenly, for just a moment, it cleared. She remembered the plan, and looked back down, readying her mind to grab the basket and arrest their landing.

“Climb out and follow me as soon as we land!” she shouted over the whistling wind. She didn’t think she needed to say it, and wasn’t even sure whether her friends had heard her—she didn’t look back to check—but the sensation of speaking was enough to bring a modicum of ease to her mind. There was a plan. There was rationality again. There was a next step.

Her eyes went down to the palace balcony, a small outreach of stone that would lead directly into the great hall—if they landed. She watched the palace approach with maddening speed, hoping that the pegasi hadn’t reacted too fast.

They fell forty, fifty, sixty feet, and the balcony rushed up at them, threatening to crush the basket into splinters; Twilight activated her telekinetic spell just ten feet from the floor, slowing their descent so suddenly as to make their knees buckle slightly. They quickly drifted down, and Twilight jumped out and immediately ran for the pair of giant double doors, trying to open them with her magic. They refused, though she tugged with all her waning magical might. When she reached them, she banged her hooves on them impotently; they gave a little, but didn’t open, and she slumped against them, hopeless almost to tears. “No! Not here!”

“Twilight!” Rarity screamed; her voice was strained and hoarse.

She turned, just in time to see the three pegasi streak from above, black ribbons of metal and feathers, turn a quick ninety degrees, and dive at them, their front hooves, adorned with blades, pointing out like flying pairs of scissors. She froze for an instant, eyes wide, brain inert.

And then they acted.

It was a moment that Twilight would never be able to remember clearly. Metal-clad wings flapped. Skewers gleamed. Magic flared. One pegasus to the side, smashing into the guardrail. One pegasus caught in the air, struggling against a pale blue haze around his cannons. One pegasus tangling with a pale yellow blur, rising. Helmets, chest plates, ice-pick spears like nightmarish teeth in the pale night. Screaming. Crying. Heads turned, eyes rolling over in fear, struggling enemies. Crash, bang, smash; metal flying. One pegasus down. Surprise, and a blast of magenta magic through the marble railing, scattering pieces of masonry like ice cubes and throwing another pegasus down onto the dark grounds beneath. Blood on the pristine floor. More flight, a pink streak, a sudden impact. Pinkie raising the aggressor’s helmet and beating his face blindly. Wailing, desperate tears, blood-stained hooves. Flecks on her muzzle. Stillness. The roar of surrounding warfare, but absolute silence on the balcony. Bodies shivering and shaking with adrenaline.

Twilight backed up unconsciously. “I… uh…” Her mind was spinning, her stomach was churning, her heart was exploding in her chest. Her jaw was locked, half-open, quivering; she bent over and vomited on the floor, and a hoof patted her back. She shook her head. “No, no, no, no, this isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.” She trembled violently and sat down, gagging and choking, and frightened tears scalded her eyes. She could say nothing, just scream, breathless and paralyzed. “Oh, Celestia, what have I done?” She closed her eyes and let herself sink to the ground, mouth and throat burning. She screamed until she was out of breath, inhaled cold air, and let out a quieter staccato of moans and short wails. The world was spinning out of control, and she let her face rest on the cool stone.

When she was quieter, Rarity spoke carefully. “Twilight, dear, um… can we please go inside?”

She let Applejack help her up, dazed, and faced the locked doors. Her eyes ran over the frame, the handles, the jamb, but her mind refused to process what she saw. She was caught, as if hypnotized by their immensity, and all that she could think—all that she knew—was the fight. Already it felt distant, numb, unknowable. Had it really just happened? Of course, she thought frantically. Inarticulate, terrified sentences bounced around her squirming consciousness, blotting out rationality. “A dream. Just a dream, Twilight.” She let more tears flow out over her face, and she was shaking. Her muscles were still tense, trembling.

“Twilight?” Pinkie prodded her gently.

“No!” she shouted suddenly, hysterical and angry. She faced the doors again, her enemies, and shook her head violently, dripping drool and tears and vomit on the balcony floor.

She turned around, grabbed the battered helmet off the prone soldier, and threw it through one of the stained glass windows beside the doors. Glass sprayed inwards, a hole in the center of the sun, admitting a less natural light from within the throne room. She cleared the rest of the window with a growl, then climbed through uncautiously.

When they were all inside, they looked around quickly, their hope draining away as they did so. No guards, no princesses, no huddled citizens. The throne room was empty.