Rainbow waited in her office while Twilight hurried down to the receptionist for directions. She looked at her friends pleadingly, but they could only look back at her with nothing to offer.

“That was Lowercase, by the way,” Trixie said. “He might be at your meeting. I wouldn’t sit next to him, if I were you. Someone like that, he might notice something up with your bearing.”

“You think so?” Rainbow asked quietly.

“He’s worked for you for a while now, and while I don’t know him personally, he seems like the kind of pony to pick up on details like that.”

“Just what I need.”

The door flew open, and Twilight entered, chest heaving. “Okay, mayor, come with me.”

“Uh… well, see you girls, I guess,” Rainbow said, taking off after Twilight slowly.

“We need to hurry. You don’t want to be late for your meeting.”

“I don’t even know what it’s about.”

Twilight shook her head and turned a corner. “I’m sorry, mayor. I can’t help you.”

“I know.” They got into an elevator and went up.

“But it should only be for a couple days. Set up the evacuation as soon as you can, and we’ll handle the last two spells.”

“So everything’s okay on your end, then?”

“We’re fine,” Twilight said. She looked at Rainbow again. “Sorry. It’s weird talking to you like this.”

“No, I know.” They walked to a small boardroom, and Twilight stopped. Rainbow sighed and entered.

“I didn’t want to say anything with her in the room, but I’m really worried,” Trixie said.

“She seemed so uncomfortable,” Fluttershy said.

“More than that, I get the impression she doesn’t fully get what her situation is. She holds the reins of this city’s government, and she hasn’t even tried to familiarize herself with her employees.”

“She’s only been in this position for a few hours,” Rarity said. “Give her time to adjust.”

“Unfortunately, we do not have time,” Octavia said. “Based on how quickly the weather has been worsening, she needs to get the evacuation underway immediately.”

“You’ll help her, right?” Pinkie asked.

“Me?” Trixie asked, pointing at herself.

“We have to do our spells,” Rarity said.

“I have a life, you know. I’m playing golf with some snobs tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yer not helpin’ Rainbow ‘cause you’ll be too busy playin’ golf?” Applejack said.

“I’m not her personal assistant!”

Twilight reentered with a grim look. “Well, she’s in. I’m… I’m worried, girls.”

“We were just talking about that,” Rarity said.

“Trixie doesn’t think she can handle the pressure,” Fluttershy said.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Trixie said. “But no, I don’t.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Pinkie asked.

“Someone needs to help her,” Octavia said.

“Well, I can’t,” Trixie said. “I’m not even supposed to be on this side of the situation. I thought the tornado was just a rumor. A convenient pretense to use for the attempted coup. I tried to stop it.”

“You tried to stop all this?” Rarity asked.

“Why are ponies always shocked when I say that?” Trixie cried. “Am I the only one who doesn’t automatically trust someone when they have some kind of crazy scheme?”

“She has a point,” Octavia said.

“This is what Ah think,” Applejack said, standing to support herself on the desk. “Our hooves are bound here. We gotta keep doin’ our spells, an’ Trixie has to live her own life. As much as we may not like it, we gotta trust Rainbow to do her job, ‘cause that’s all we can do.”

“I am not certain whether that is a risk that we should take. Should she fail, everyone in this town suffers,” Octavia said.

“What’s the alternative?” Trixie asked.

Octavia looked at her.

“You can’t hang out with her all day. Ponies will get suspicious. You can’t do her job for her, because you know just as little about this town as her. You can’t evacuate ponies on your own, because you don’t have the resources.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry, but am I missing something? Is there some other possibility?”

“No, dear, you’re absolutely right,” Rarity said. “But… I shudder at the implication.”

“She knows who she needs to talk to, to make this happen. She knows it needs to happen. What else is there?” She looked at them all as they took in her words.

“We should at least remain here until she finishes her meeting,” Octavia said.

Rainbow spent the majority of the meeting sitting back and listening, trying to figure out what was going on. It didn’t last. Despite her passiveness, her cold, calculating expression that brooked no nonsense, she was forced to contribute. With all eyes on her, she agreed with somepony she had never seen before, without knowing what she was talking about.

When the meeting was over, she was the first to rise and head for the door, but Lowercase reached it first and held out a hoof to stop her. He smiled and cordially said goodbye to the others, and when they were alone, he gestured at a chair. She had only seen his picture, which, to her disquiet, seemed to add a few years to his appearance. He watched her, his youthful face straight and un-creased, two narrow eyes locked onto her, moving rapidly over her face and body. She felt trapped in his presence, even before he spoke.

“Please forgive me if I am out of line, but is everything all right, madam mayor?” His voice was calm and polite, but she had to consciously avoid squirming under his gaze. “You’re very much unlike yourself today.”

“Uhhh…” She met his cold, yellow eyes, and he cocked his head inquisitively. “I guess I’m a little preoccupied.”

“Why?”

She looked away quickly, searching for anything else to look at. “Uh, personal stuff.”

He nodded and rose from his seat. “Very well. Forgive my imposition.”

She slouched in her seat when he turned his back on her, but jumped back up with a sudden realization. “Wait! Um, wait.” She cleared her throat and reasserted her serious tone. “There is something that I have been meaning to discuss with you.”

“Of course, madam.” He returned to his seat and stared at her again.

She shuffled uncomfortably, failing to meet his eyes. “How do I do this? Do I just tell him? I am the mayor, I guess. My word is law.” She looked back at him, just for a moment. His eyes gleamed intelligently in his skull, reflected cloudily off the tabletop. “We need to evacuate the city.”

He blinked slowly, but showed no other sign of discomfort. “May I inquire as to why?”

“Uh…” “How would Octavia handle this?” “No, you may not. It’s… uh, it’s too dangerous.”

He thought. “I’m afraid I must insist. This is an incredible task you request.”

She chewed her lip. His calm front was sturdy and stern, and she could find no fault, no suggestion of weakness, to exploit. She slowly rose from her seat, hesitating a moment to try to steady her voice. “Who is the one in charge here, Lowercase?”

His eye contact didn’t falter. “You, madam.”

She grit her teeth. His responses were too easy, too immediate. She leaned in, doing her best to flatten her expression into something intimidating. “That’s right. Me. Not you. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“It is my duty as your assistant to question decisions that affect the entire city, especially those with no explanation.”

“You want an explanation? Look outside,” she said, suddenly bitter.

His mellow eyes bored into her a moment longer, before sliding to the window. “The so-called tornado? You said yourself that it was a scheduled deluge to take advantage of the weakened weather binding.”

She froze, her response dead in her mouth. “Uh…”

He looked back at her. “What is going on?”

“Nothing!”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She had no response, so instead, stared angrily into his inscrutable eyes. They stayed locked for several seconds, he as tranquil as ever, she slowly shriveling inside. Her resolve was not strong, and it felt like he knew.

“The safety of our ponies is my highest devotion, so if you order me to evacuate, I will obey. But I—”

“Do it.”

He met her eyes once more, and for the first time since she had seen him, a flicker of emotion passed across his face. “As you command. How soon does the city need evacuated?”

“As soon as possible. Every stallion, mare, and foal needs to be out and as far away as you can get them. I want it done by the day after tomorrow.”

He nodded slowly. His voice was soft, slightly disappointed. “I will begin the process immediately.”

When Rainbow returned from her meeting, a combination of smug and frightened, she told them she had initiated the evacuation, and Twilight reminded her that she would need to keep parts of the town locked down for their spells. They shook hooves and left, climbing into Trixie’s car so she could take them back to the hotel.

When they were back in their room, it was evening, and the rain still poured. The Fillydelphia horizon was a foggy orange under the dark rainclouds, their bellies lit by the city’s scattered, but strong, lights. Pinkie cracked the window open to let in the sound of the rain, and Rarity shuffled their cards.

“Twilight, we need to talk about something,” Octavia said. “It is not comfortable.”

“Uh, okay. What’s wrong?” Twilight asked, cutting the deck.

“We still have two spells to go. That means that we will be here tomorrow and the day after. Given how the weather seems to be developing, we could wind up casting with a tornado bearing down on our heads.” She magically picked up her cards, sparing only a small glance at them to raise them before her face. “I know that you do not do well in intense situations.”

“Um, do we have to talk about this?” Fluttershy asked.

“Nothing will change if we do not talk.”

Rarity chuckled, and Twilight looked at her. “Um, nothing. She’s right, though. How have you been lately?”

“Better, actually,” Twilight said. “Ever since we left Trottingham, I’ve been feeling… I don’t know. Happier.”

“Do you still have dreams about it?” Fluttershy asked. “Um, because I do.”

“Ah think we all do,” Applejack said, Pinkie nodding beside her.

“Yes, but not like I used to,” Twilight said. She sighed. “So, to answer your question, Octavia, I think I’ll be okay. I certainly hope so.”

“You don’t think you’ll have another flashback?” Pinkie asked.

“Pinkie,” Rarity said. “Tact, darling.”

“But Octavia said—”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said. “I don’t know if I’ll have another one. According to my books, I probably will.”

“Don’t say that, Twi,” Applejack said.

“It’s true, though. It takes a long time for a pony to get past something like this. I can only hope I don’t have one in the next ‘intense situation’. At least, then, I’ll know I’ve made progress.”

“It’s just a tornado,” Pinkie said. “It won’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it’s only a storm that can tear our ship to shreds. Nothing to worry about,” Rarity said.

“I just hope Rainbow knows what she’s doing,” Fluttershy said.

That same day, Spike and the pegasi woke up at dawn to a knock on the door and a terse note on the doorstep. It was from Zecora, the Everfree operative, stating that she would take Noteworthy’s place indefinitely. He was still under police watch, rendering him unable to teach.

The three of them walked to the empty field, Spike under Flitter’s wing. When they arrived, for the first time in several days, Zecora was already there.

She gave them a wide, gentle smile. “Welcome.”

They waited for her to continue, but she did not. “Well?” Cloudchaser asked.

“Ah, yes. My apologies. While I grew up rhyming, it is far too inefficient for communication in the Datura.” Her voice still flowed with her distinctive rise-and-fall, and it was not pleasant to hear it without the rhymes. “Besides, rhyming with ‘Datura’ constantly would make me very unhappy.” She winked. “Shall we?”

“Do you know what’s going on with Noteworthy?” Spike asked. “He hasn’t told us anything.”

“I have suspicions, but it’s not my place to say.”

“Not even a hint?” Flitter asked, a little dismayed.

“What about Colgate?” Cloudchaser asked.

“She’s the one you should pay closest attention to if you want to solve this mystery,” Zecora said. “I would love to talk to her about it, but, like this conversation, it’s not my place.” They moved to sit down, and she stopped them. “Not today, my friends. Today, we’re taking a walk.”

“Where?” Flitter asked.

“Noteworthy wanted me to take you into the forest.” She smiled at their hesitant expressions. “Not deep.”

She set a light march to the edge of the forest, and they followed closely behind her, out of the field and down a small trail between the trees. Light slanted down on them, but the air inside was thick and warm, the trees tight around the path. Zecora walked confidently and without looking back, but Flitter and Cloudchaser stayed close on either side of Spike, who resisted the urge to slip a claw under Flitter’s wing for comfort. Around them, the sounds of the waking forest stirred: birds chirping and shaking branches, distant creatures moving through the brush, occasional flies or mosquitoes around their heads.

When they were a few minutes into the wood, they passed a sunken fence, leaning uselessly before a small pond. Zecora spoke. “Tell me what you know of this place.”

They didn’t answer at first, waiting for her to finish her rhyme. “Uh… well, it’s full of monsters and stuff,” Cloudchaser said. “And dangerous plants.”

“Medicinal stuff too,” Flitter said.

“There’s manticores and hydras if you go deep enough,” Spike said.

“We’re not going that deep, are we?” Cloudchaser asked.

Zecora chuckled. “Heavens, no. We’re nowhere near any large creatures anyway. Hydras like to stay closer to the bog, or the swamp on the southeast side, and manticores are closer to the center, where it’s dark.”

“What about ursa minors?” Spike asked.

“Again, not where we are.” They crossed a small bridge over a trickling brook. “We’re here for something far less imposing.”

“And what might that be?” Flitter asked.

“It’s better if you see it.”

They exchanged wary looks as Zecora marched on, stooping to avoid a low-hanging fan of drooping leaves. The path, already thin, continued to narrow into a beige hair that curved between the trees, until tapering off into shadow an indeterminate distance away. When they stopped, only a fraction of the original sunlight illuminated their surroundings. Water flowed nearby.

“I hope you’re not afraid to get a little wet,” Zecora said, stepping through a cluster of bushes. “We need to follow this stream.”

They picked their way through the shrubbery and stepped down a gentle bank to a thin vein of cloudy water. Reeds and grasses picked at the pegasi’s tails as they walked, sometimes splay-legged to straddle the tiny brook, sometimes to one side where the ground was flat enough. Crickets and minnows flitted out of the way as Zecora walked dutifully ahead, not mindful to the water around her legs. They passed a large alcove, stopping for just a second for Spike to point out a beaver dam at its back.

“Hurry onwards,” Zecora said without looking back. “We are not yet there.”

They walked deeper into the forest, skirting a larger pond and climbing over a large, fallen tree, overgrown and slippery with damp moss. When Zecora finally stopped, they were at a small clearing, where the stream widened into a large, wide pool. Mounds of dirt and brush contained it from all sides, and through a space in the trees ahead, they could see a dark, unseemly blotch.

“We will go no further today. This part of the forest is relatively safe, but beyond, it is not. Beginning Daturas do not get to explore the dark places of the world.”

“So what are we doing here?” Flitter asked, trotting to the pond’s edge to look into the water.

“Go up to the edge with her,” Zecora murmured. Spike and Cloudchaser exchanged glances, but did as Zecora bid them, joining Flitter by the pond. Zecora’s voice was touched with mellow guilt. “I am very sorry for this.” Before any of them could move, they were pushed forward to gracelessly splash into the water.

It was cold, and as soon as Spike broke the surface, the forest blacked out around him. Flitter and Cloudchaser floundered by his sides, wings splashing frantically, and he tried to paddle backwards, his senses sharply awake from the cold water. From the shore, the pond had looked only a foot or two deep, but as he tried to find his footing, he only sank, his head dipping under the surface long enough to see nothing but deep, dark emptiness tilting away with his panicked movements. He pushed himself back to the surface, but the forest was gone. Cloudchaser was treading water, her own eyes glassy with fear, but Flitter still struggled. Spike tried to cry out, but his small body was too heavy, and he sank again, releasing a stream of bubbles in the oppressive, freezing water. He waved his arms and kicked his legs, but his strength was sapped, and he only barely grazed the surface before plummeting again. One last flash of lavender wing struck in his eyes as he went down, fast and terrified. His eyes slid closed.

When he opened them again, he was staring into the canopy. His head was sunken in wet ground, and he slowly sat up, pulling himself out of the mud and muck by the pond. Flitter and Cloudchaser were both there, crouching with their eyes closed, their wings tense across their sides. He looked back slowly, and Zecora was still there, watching with a heavy expression.

“Uh… what just happened?” He was too shocked for anger, and only looked at her shyly as she looked back at him.

“Noteworthy wanted me to do this. It’s a sort of initiation.”

“But what was it? Am I… am I okay?”

Flitter suddenly fell backwards into the water, and her eyes opened. She flipped over quickly and looked around, and Spike tried to run to her, but Zecora stopped him. She slowly crawled out of the water, trembling, and Spike hugged her silently.

“Stay here,” Zecora said, trotting into the water. She grabbed Cloudchaser and pulled her out, and as soon as she was on the shore, her eyes cleared.

“What in Tartarus is going on?” Flitter whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” Zecora said, hugging Cloudchaser close.

“I’m not dead.”

“You’re all okay. It was an illusion.” Zecora looked at them all. “Nothing happened to you.”

“I think something did,” Spike said.

“All right, this is what happened. Come on, let’s get out of here.” They slowly followed her away from the pond, and when they were back alongside the stream, she spoke. “It’s called Cloak Pond. Its waters are enchanted, and the Datura has been using it as an initiation tool since before I was born. Anyone who enters it experiences what you did, until they drown; then they wake up. Cloudchaser, you must have been treading water.”

Cloudchaser mumbled affirmation.

“I really hate pushing members into it, but it has to be a surprise for you to get the full effect.”

“And why is this necessary?” Flitter asked.

“Has Noteworthy woken you up in the middle of the night yet?”

“Yeah, he did it on our first day,” Spike said.

“This is on the same principle. You have to be ready for anything.”

“We have to be ready to drown suddenly?” Flitter said.

“You have to be ready to face life-or-death situations.”

They marched silently up the creek to the thin path. Zecora let them wait a moment to dry their hooves in the dirt, and then continued back toward the edge of the forest. When they returned to the clearing, Flitter and Cloudchaser sat down, and Spike stood by Flitter’s side. They looked at Zecora blankly.

“As I said, I’m sorry. Things like this come with the job, though.”

“Do they?” Cloudchaser asked incredulously.

“A true Datura is ready for anything, at any time. Even the high-ranking members have to endure things like that.”

The pegasi only sighed.

After a quiet, subdued session in the field, Cloudchaser went back to check on the spa, while Flitter and Spike returned to the library. Allie Way was there, slouched beside the door with a despondent look stuck on her face. Flitter gave her a weak greeting, and she looked at Spike with hard eyes. “Spike, I have to talk to you.”

He let them both in, and Flitter went to the couch, where she watched uncertainly. “Do you need me to leave, or…”

“We just need a little privacy,” Allie said curtly. Her voice was clipped, like she was holding something powerful back.

Flitter stretched and disappeared down to the basement, and when the door clicked shut, Allie was by the door again, pacing. A small, intense frown clouded her face.

“What’s going on?” Spike asked lifelessly.

“Noteworthy.”

He closed his eyes. “Oh, no. What now?”

“You’re not going to believe what he did today. He caught me on my lunch break and accused me—accused me—of hitting Colgate.”

“Wait, what?” Spike’s focus, waning, was suddenly sharp at the mention of Colgate’s name. It usually meant trouble.

“He told me he knew I was the one who gave her the black eye, and I needed to stop it.”

“That rat bastard!” Spike shouted. He blushed quickly, afraid Flitter had heard him, and lowered his voice. “What in Celestia’s name does he think he’s doing?”

“I wish I knew. He said he saw me acting threatening to her, but I’ve never threatened her in my life. I haven’t even talked to her since I told the mayor about him. I don’t know what his game is.”

“Well, I haven’t heard anything from him.”

“Yeah, neither have Derpy or Berry. They’re starting to get curious, but no one’s heard anything.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “If I could figure out what he’s trying to do, I could react, but it doesn’t make sense. He’s the only one who’s approached me about this. If he really thought I was the one responsible, wouldn’t he tell the mayor?”

“Maybe he doesn’t think she’ll believe him.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t.” Allie rubbed her head. “He’s such a snake.”

“Or maybe he’s trying to keep you away from her so he can reach her easier.”

“But I’m not protecting her. Uh, that didn’t sound right. I mean, I’m watching out for her, but I’m not… you know, always with her.”

Spike shook his head. “I don’t know, Allie. He’s weird. I don’t like him.”

“I hate him.” She grabbed a book and flipped through it idly. “He manipulates you into the Datura, assaults Colgate, and then tries to pin it on me?” She snapped the book shut and threw it across the room, and Spike flinched. “If he pulls something like this one more time, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.” Spike looked at her. Her eye twitched, and her face, suddenly angry, softened into the face he knew. “Sorry. I can get kind of mad sometimes.”

“No, I understand. I would be too,” Spike said, glancing at the book on the floor.

“I have to get out of here, get some fresh air. I’m sorry to tell you this and then leave, Spike, but… ugh, I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “Yeah, me too. I’m gonna have to talk to her.”

“I don’t think you should. It’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” He wanted to ask why, but considered the implication of her word instead. “You don’t think he’d come after me, do you?”

“Well, he’s comfortable attacking her. I wouldn’t put it past him to do the same to you.”

“Geez.”

“I know. I know.” She levitated the book and brought it back to its shelf. “I know it looks bad.”

“Not just bad. It’s so confusing. Ponies keep getting involved, and Noteworthy’s capitalizing on it.”

“And it’s only going to get worse once Derpy and Berry start nosing around. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to deflect them onto me too.”

“You don’t think he’d threaten them, do you?”

“Probably not. Not with those police watching him, anyway. But you never know.” She went to the door. “See you later.”

“Bye, Allie.” He watched her trot out into the night, and as soon as the door was closed, Flitter was coming out of the basement, a coy grin on her face. “What’s with you?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing,” she said innocently. “What was that all about?”

Flitter and Spike shared Twilight’s old bed, he with a book and she by his side, a wing around him. After Spike told her what Allie had said, she only shook her head sadly. “It just gets worse and worse,” she had said.

He turned a page and wiggled slightly closer into her wing. “So… you gonna be okay?”

“I think so,” she said.

He grunted.

“I don’t know if I want to stay in anymore, though. It’s very interesting, and I love the politics of it, but if we have to get pushed into magical pools that trick us into thinking we’re drowning…”

“I know what you mean.”

“Cloud’s gonna want out. She hates surprises like that.”

Spike’s eyes were glazed with fatigue, and he struggled to reread a sentence. He knew what he wanted to say. “I don’t… uh…”

“I’m sorry, Spike.”

“I don’t want to go it alone.”

“I know.” She shifted to hug him tightly. “So you’re not gonna quit?”

“I thought about it, but no.” He closed the book and rubbed his eyes. “With me on his team, Noteworthy won’t have to harass Colgate.”

“Huh?”

“He only kept bugging her ‘cause he wanted her as a Datura, but if he has me, he won’t need her.”

“You’re gonna stay for her?”

“I’d stay for any of my friends.” He lay back and sighed. “I just wish I could talk to her.”

“You’re not responsible for her problems,” Flitter said gently. “Or anyone’s, but your own. If you want out, you need to get out.”

“I can’t. I said I’d see it through, and I will.” He closed his eyes, and Twilight smiled at him behind his eyelids. “I’m tired of not doing stuff. It’s always someone else doing all the hard work, and never me.” He gave a tiny smile, his own words encouraging him slightly. “Not this time. Noteworthy wanted me for a reason, and I can’t let him down. I can’t let the Datura down.”

“Spike…”

“Sorry, Flitter. My mind’s made up.” He crossed his arms defiantly, but uncrossed them a second later.

“Just be careful,” she said, leaning over quickly to kiss his cheek.

The first thing Twilight did upon waking was call the mayor’s office, to speak with Rainbow. She had Lowercase working on preparing transport ships to empty the city, and had spent the early morning practicing her own signature. She had another meeting at noon, for which she was, again, unprepared.

They had breakfast and took the ship northwest, into the heart of residential Fillydelphia. Through the freezing rain and wind, they could make out a crenellated ridge of houses built into the side of a gentle hill, a sharp contrast to the streamlined and sophisticated larger buildings that had surrounded them before. Smaller, single-story suburban houses surrounded palatial estates like debris, split away and collapsing, all of them shining with unbroken ropes of rainwater. In the storm, the shattered landscape was a jagged crater of misty glass. Octavia was able to point out the houses of some more wealthy ponies, though Applejack steered clear of them, wrestling with the wind. They circled the area for half an hour until finally landing in the middle of an empty cul-de-sac. It wasn’t favorable, Twilight said, but there was simply no possibility of using a roof in the sprawling neighborhood.

While she and Pinkie set up their sigil, the others went for a short walk around the block. Octavia led them to a large, incomplete wall by a fenced-off gully, thick with ivy and grass at its base.

“This is the meeting wall,” Octavia said. “It is somewhat of a neighborhood secret. A fan… brought me here after one of my performances.”

“It’s just a broken down wall,” Applejack said, rubbing a hoof across an exposed bit of slick masonry.

“It is an unspoken place for privacy and intimacy. No one should bother us if they see us speaking here.”

“Why did you lead us here, then?” Rarity asked. “Is there something we need to talk about?”

“Not especially. I thought you might like it, though.”

“It’s just a wall,” Applejack repeated.

“I think it’s… nice,” Fluttershy said. “You’re a very nice tour guide, Octavia.”

Octavia gave a thin smile. “Thank you.”

“What are you gonna do when you get back home?” Applejack asked.

“Home?”

“We’ve been on the move fer a couple months now.”

“But with only one Element,” Rarity said.

“Rarity is right. We are nowhere near close to needing to think about home,” Octavia said.

“That’s easy fer you to say,” Applejack said.

Octavia sighed. “Okay, Applejack. I will bite. What is bothering you?”

“What makes ya think anythin’s botherin’ me?”

“It is very easy to tell.”

“You do tend to get rather angry when you’re upset,” Rarity said.

Applejack paused, as if considering her options. “All right, ya got me. Ah’m just thinkin’ ‘bout Ponyville.”

Rarity and Fluttershy exchanged looks.

“Ah miss the farm, an’ Granny Smith an’ Big Mac an’ Apple Bloom. Ah miss buckin’ the trees an’ collectin’ the apples, an’ makin’ apple pie.” Thunder cracked, and she jumped. She leaned into the wall, its greenery cushioning her head.

“I miss the sun,” Fluttershy said.

Rarity only sighed and looked plaintively at Octavia, who stared back emptily.

“Ah know we’ve got a ways to go still. Ah know we can’t let homesickness get us,” Applejack said.

“We should get back to Twilight,” Rarity said.

After the spell, they hastened back to the ship, and were in the air before they could be crowded by confused or congratulatory ponies. They flew directly back to the Moonbeam Hotel and spent several minutes outside, under an awning, while Octavia magically combed the water out of their coats, with Twilight’s guidance.

When they got back to the room, Trixie was loitering outside with a bedraggled mane and a dour expression. No one spoke as Twilight let her into the room, where she sat on the bed to stare at the wall.

“Were you waiting long?” Octavia asked.

Trixie took a dramatic breath. “I am dead.”

“What’s wrong?” Fluttershy asked.

She let herself tip over and pulled the sheet over her, burying her head and muffling her voice. “Remember when I said I had that golf game today?”

“What happened?” Pinkie asked. “Did you shoot a bogey? An eagle? Two eagles? Ohmygosh, was it maybe even worse than that? Did you—”

“Shut up!” She growled, and the sheet tangled into a glowing knot over her covered horn. “I’m not in the mood for your nonsense.”

“Well what are you in the mood for?”

“For crawling into a hole and dying.” The knot slowly loosened. “I was hob-nobbing with those snotty rich ponies, and I decided to run my stupid mouth off. I told them I knew you all, and that you and I were good friends, Twilight.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Rarity said.

“I promised them a show with both of us.”

“Wait, what?” Twilight said. “A show with… you mean starring both of us?”

“Yes, you and me, on a stage, performing.” She growled again. “And no, I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was just being—brace yourselves—boastful.”

“Trixie…”

Trixie flipped the sheet off herself, revealing a tear-soaked face. “Strike me down now, Twilight. Reach into my chest and snuff out my heart.”

“Trixie!”

“My agent’s going to kill me.”

“Trixie, stop this,” Octavia said. “I am sure that we can find a solution.”

“Why don’t you just tell these rich ponies the truth?” Applejack asked.

“Are you joking? That would be social suicide.”

“But you were just talking about suicide a couple seconds ago,” Fluttershy said.

“Celestia damn it, I was speaking rhetorically.” They were quiet for her, and she put the sheet back over her head, sniffling some. “My agent is going to kill me.”

“Trixie, when is this show supposed to be?” Twilight asked quietly.

“I didn’t say. I just told them ‘sometime soon’.”

“Maybe they’ll forget about it,” Rarity said half-heartedly.

“I can’t rely on that. What if they don’t?”

“Um, actually, it might not be so bad,” Fluttershy said.

“It certainly feels bad,” Trixie mumbled.

“No, think about it. Um, not to suggest that you’re not thinking, but—”

“Get to it.”

Fluttershy blushed. “Rainbow said she’s evacuating the city. The first ships should be leaving town later tonight. With that and the tornado that should be coming soon, it’ll be a really long time before anybody here can even think about performances.”

“Hang on,” Octavia said. “You are making me realize something, Fluttershy.” She looked at Twilight. “There is no way to stop the tornado, is there?”

“Eh, not so far as I know,” Twilight said.

“You’re just realizing this now?” Rarity asked.

Twilight tilted her head inquisitively. “That’s why it’s so important that everypony evacuates before anything happens, because once that tornado touches down, we won’t be able to do anything.”

“I guess I had not made that connection,” Octavia said.

The sheets wiggled slightly as Trixie spoke up again. “You’re not seriously giving up on saving the city, are you?”

“What d’ya expect us to do? It’s a weather formation, not a monster,” Applejack said.

“And if what Rainbow Dash said is true, it’s much too far along for us to dispel anyway,” Rarity said. “Independently-occurring—I can’t believe I’m saying it—independently-occurring weather phenomena are almost impossible to shut down.”

“I suppose,” Trixie said. “But… but…”

“If you have any suggestions, we are open to them,” Octavia said.

“No, I don’t.” She crawled out from under the sheets and went to the window. “I hate how relieving this all is. Fillydelphia’s getting destroyed, and all I can think about is how glad I am that I don’t have to perform. At least, not immediately.”

“Where do you think you’ll relocate?” Twilight asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to talk to my agent.”

“And when are you going to do that?” Octavia asked.

Trixie sighed.

Rainbow stared at the file on her desk. It was Lowercase’s, and she had avoided reading it the day before. She had thought she had sufficiency cowed him the day before, but at every turn, he made his suspicion obvious. Inquiries about her health, whether she had overworked herself, and the like flew from his lips, always in the same professional, clipped way that put her on edge. It was impossible for her to respond well; nothing unsettled him.

The day was drawing to a close, and she had just gotten off the phone with him, telling him that she would be working late once more. The day before, she hadn’t considered all of the implications of her transformation, thinking only that she would wait until the workday was over and then go home. The reality was, she had no idea where the mayor lived, or what car she drove—or even how to drive it, if she were to find it. She had spent the night in her office, curled up under the desk, and woken to her phone ringing, to Lowercase telling her that he needed her to authorize the use of the Fillyelphia air fleet. It was for that reason she had spent her entire morning staring hopelessly at one of her own decrees, trying to memorize her own signature.

With a tired groan, she stood and went to the window. On the lawn, teams of ponies were boarding and preparing airships, while others were already in flight in the distance. Airships would be moving throughout the night, taking ponies to designated safe areas far outside of town, and by Lowercase’s estimations, the last citizens would be evacuated by ten the next morning. She and he would be on the final ship, she as acting captain and commodore, and he as her second in command.

As she watched, another ship slowly lifted off, its propellers spraying mist over the drenched grounds. She had never seen so many ships together, and the sight of them kept her transfixed at the window. Unlike the vessel they had purchased in Manehattan, the Fillydelphia airships were large, bulbous things of glass and metal, like bubbles encased in steel. There was no deck, instead two or three floors inside the glass tank, at the top of which was the captain’s large steering room.

She looked down to see a pair of ponies hustling across the grounds to the flooded parking lot. She knew the city was in a dire way, but she was tired, and her mind was stretched thin with constant worry. Since the day before, she had not been truly relaxed, not even in sleep. The phone calls, the meetings, the botched signatures, and the endless rain drumming her window made her tense and empty, and as she sat back down, she could only sigh. “Lowercase has it under control,” she whispered. “He’s getting everyone out of here, he knows what he’s doing. I just have to get on the last ship tomorrow and let my friends do their jobs.” She leaned back and looked at the ceiling while thunder growled outside. Another long, lonesome night.

After Trixie called her agent, it was only a few minutes before she cheered up. As darkness fell, and airships fanned away from the capital building, she and Twilight decided to go out for dinner, just the two of them. No one else wanted to brave the weather.

Trixie drove them to the middle of town and parked outside a stately, wooden restaurant, its abandoned front patio covered in the rain shellac. The interior was mostly empty, and they got a seat in the corner, by a large window behind a tree. The storm thundered on the glass and rattled the tree outside, and the waiter was visibly shaken as he served the pair their food.

“I figured I should have one last good meal before this city is wiped off the face of the Gaia,” Trixie said.

Twilight looked out the window. In the darkness, the storm looked even more intense. “I’ve never seen anything this bad. Have you?”

“Nope. Read about it, though. When they have hurricanes on the coast.”

“Mm. Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that. You’ve been studying magic?”

“It was always an interest of mine, even before our little incident in Ponyville.” She took a bite of her salad. “I’d like to pick your brain on a couple things, actually.”

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start with that spell you cast yesterday, on the grocery store rooftop.” She kept her tone casual, but when she looked at Twilight, her eyes were gleaming with a youthful fascination, much like Twilight imagined in herself when she was younger. “I’ve never seen a sigil so complicated in my life. How did you manage to activate it?”

“It’s not as hard as it looks,” Twilight said. “It’s a royal sigil.”

“But the size, and the complexity. Memorizing it must have taken forever.”

“Not really,” Twilight said carefully. The memory of the incident rushed to meet her. Blinding, throat-shredding pain, splitting her head under the princess’ compassionless gaze. Tingling at the edges, a different, stronger memory. “Princess Celestia burned it into my mind.”

Trixie reeled back. “She burned it into your mind?” Her face was serious, almost concerned. “I’ve read about that. Is it as bad as they say?”

“It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

Trixie shook her head. “I could never be you, Twilight Sparkle. The dedication it takes to do what you’re doing. Do you miss home?”

“All the time.” She nodded as the words reverberated inside her head. “All the time.” She took a bite and forced a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean—”

“Please, Trixie?”

“Okay, sorry.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably, and they shared a moment of semiquiet. The rain crackled outside. “In light of the turn the country’s taken, I’ve been reading more deeply into the darker side of magic.”

“I had to take a couple classes on that, a long time ago.”

“How were they?”

“I never liked dark magic very much. I know ‘dark’ is just a misnomer, but it really seems… nastier than the magic I’m used to.”

“Too bad you couldn’t have studied it before Luna was banished. I read that she taught, back in the day.”

“Really?”

“I have a couple of her lectures—copies, anyway—in a drawer at home. I could lend you one, if you want.”

“What are they on?”

“I’ve got a couple on the spirit world, and what it’s like to die. How to preserve your consciousness in a semi-autonomous form, either as an apparition, a thoughtform, or a localized chain of causality.”

“That… is some very advanced magic.” She looked at Trixie again, her good mood returning. The blue unicorn was suddenly much more than a surprising encounter. “I had no idea you were so knowledgeable.”

“I also have one on the ever-popular necromancy.”

“Really?” Twilight’s voice dropped a little. “They’re not allowed to teach that anymore.”

“I know. That’s why Luna’s lecture is so fascinating. I’d love to get my hooves on an authentic textbook from that era, but I wouldn’t know where to go for something like that. Not that I have the money for it anyway.”

Twilight smiled cordially. “You’re not thinking of trying something like that, are you?”

Trixie gave a hearty laugh. “Me? Of course not. I’m nowhere near skilled enough to even attempt something like that. It’s so much fun to read, though.”

“I know exactly what you mean. The logistics are fascinating.”

“Mm, that reminds me,” Trixie said, gesturing with her floating fork. “I read something interesting the other day. Have you done any reading about dreams?”

“Not a lot. I tried to avoid it when I was younger, because so much of it relies on a good grasp of psychology, and that was never my strong suit.”

“Ah, I see. I love that stuff, myself. Have you ever heard of dream distillation?”

“Oh, wow. Yeah, a long time ago. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

“Where you take the dream’s essence—”

“And turn it into a physical thing, yeah, I remember now,” Twilight said. “I had to distill a dream for one of my finals.” She smiled nostalgically. “It was fascinating.”

“I haven’t gotten to the chapter on its applications yet. What’s it used for?”

“Some incredibly advanced potions require distilled dreams to function. Just off the top of my head, I know the Solar Watch potion requires dreams of fancy and fever.”

Trixie shook her head. “I’m not familiar with that.”

“It’s used to make a metaphysical sun that stays above the caster and keeps things illuminated for them. Princess Celestia showed it to me once; it was amazing.”

“Metaphysical sun?”

“Meaning it only exists physically for the caster, but its magical energy can be detected by anyone.”

“So why use that instead of a simple lantern spell?” Trixie asked, picking at her salad. Lightning flashed fiercely outside, throwing her curious face into a momentary, rigid relief.

“It’s mostly used as a display of power,” Twilight said. “Someone who can produce such a potion is a very formidable pony.”

“So dreams are a magical resource. Interesting. All I’ve read so far is how to harvest them. You—”

“Hold on, I want to try to remember. This is from years ago.” She took a bite and thought. Though her face was serious, she was enjoying her time with Trixie. “You have to get inside the sleeping pony’s head, and cast a transposition spell on yourself and the entire psychoscape, which brings their dreams into our world. After that, though… dang, I don’t remember. You have to ground it all, somehow, and then it’s just a simple extrapolation spell.”

“It’s similar to the process of tethering a spirit back to the body,” Trixie said.

“Really? I don’t know anything about necromancy, so…”

“It’s all very indeterminate, surprisingly. Finding a spirit, helping it find its way to a vessel, forcing form onto the spirit plane… it’s so cerebral and philosophical, I can’t follow half of it. Luna’s lecture on the unspecificity of form in conflation with potential and knowledge kicks my flank every time I try to read it.”

“Geez, sounds like it. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have her as a teacher.”

“Well, you studied under Celestia, right?”

“That’s right.”

“So you probably wouldn’t have had Luna. She only did advanced classes. Epistemology, properties of thoughts, self-propagating spells.”

“Aren’t those illegal now? I thought I heard that somewhere, that it’s too dangerous because it can lead to exponential development.”

“I think you’re thinking of autonomous spells. Magic that can perform itself.”

“Oh, you may be right.”

“With that, you can get a kink in the formula, and spells start to compound. That is seriously dangerous stuff, though. Celestia doesn’t even touch it, I don’t think.”

“Well, with the wrong combination of spells, you can really do some damage.”

“You can go from a mild emergency to an end-of-the-world scenario in a matter of minutes.” She leaned to look out the window. “I guess that doesn’t mean a lot anymore.”