“We really need to hurry, Twilight,” Applejack said as they crossed an oblong stretch of green behind an isolated mansion. The golf course, like the city to which it belonged, was empty. A final group of airships hovered on the other side of town, obscured by the rain.

“I know,” Twilight said, squaring her withers. The wind, a shrieking curtain of freezing water before, had graduated into a skin-piercing gale, forcing their eyes half-shut and numbing their faces as they traversed the sopping lawn. The clouds were a hive of motion, swirling and overlapping like angry ropes in a massive net; from the corners of their eyes, the world around them seemed in constant motion. The ship tilted uncomfortably behind them as they set up for the final spell.

Lowercase stood on his hind legs to operate the wheel, and Rainbow stood behind him, watching the fleet of airships lead them away from Fillydelphia. They were the last ones to leave, crowded inside Mayor Splotch’s flagship, a quadruple-decker vessel with a gigantic blue balloon and an austere trimming of ribbons and garters that snapped and hissed like sparks in the storm. While Lowercase steered, he periodically looked up at the clouds, giving Rainbow reports on the tornado’s progress.

He looked back at her, and she stared into his cold, yellow eyes, herself empty of emotion. The night before, falling asleep in her chair, had drained her, and it was all she could do to feign calm. Calm, knowing her friends were still somewhere in the empty city. He angled his head to look up through the rain-speckled glass ceiling. “Thirty minutes, madam.”

Twilight worked under Rarity’s glistening shield, with Applejack and Fluttershy on the ship, ready to take off as soon as the spell was finished. Rarity bowed her head against the rain and wind, her horn a safe jewel in the harsh mist, leaving Octavia to endure the dripping, smothering cold. She could see the beginnings of a funnel forming in the center of the cloud mass, still far away, looming over Fillydelphia’s downtown district.

Her mane hung limply over her eyes, and she was caught in a constant shiver at the wind buffeting her body. The air was a deafening blanket around her, and the grass was a freezing marsh at her hooves. She could feel her eyes throbbing in her skull; she hadn’t slept the night before, and despite the intense cold and pushing winds, she fought to keep her eyes open and her mind clear. Thoughts flitted in and out like dust swirled on a pond, brief and indeterminate, and much smaller than the danger she knew pended.

At the sound of Applejack’s voice, carried and torn in the wind, she looked up and around. It was a hazy moment before she saw it: a long, dirt-gray cone towering into the sky, a skirt of dust at its tip. A splintering crash heralded the touchdown, adding a trembling impact to the insistent wind and rain, pounding the rippling shield. Twilight still drew her sigil, its edges outside the shrinking dome. Even in the storm, the ink stuck to the ground like a solid shadow, almost unreal.

Octavia looked quickly to Rarity, her eyes closed and her face stuck between grave calm and terror, trying to hold the shield while the tornado gained strength miles away. It had touched down near their hotel, and Octavia could see a collection of trees and debris flying around in the meandering whirlwind.

The sign off the Moonbeam Hotel careened through the air, a blue sickle to wind up embedded in the side of a disintegrating strip mall. Rainbow watched with shallow breathing, trying to pick the shape of her friends’ ship from the darkened vortex. The southwest corner of town was still a flooded, shattered gauntlet. Her eyes traced the emptiness between buildings. Too much space.

Lowercase had his mouth to the ship’s communication link, a hoof holding down a small, brass button. Rainbow was too transfixed to hear his conversation, and he had to repeat her name twice to get her waning attention. “The tornado is moving southwest, away from us.”

She nodded blankly.

Applejack stood at the helm, squinting through the rain at Twilight’s progress, mouthing a warning that was lost to Octavia. The ship leaned at a frightening angle, its fins all to keep it from tipping completely on its side, but she only had eyes for the advancing pillar of cloud. A roar like a train whistle rent the air, forcing her ears down and her eyes up, watching, petrified and resigned.

She looked to the sigil. Twilight had stopped her drawing, and stood, shocked and still; her eyes were drawn up to the sky, and her face was expressionless. Pinkie remained in the center of the drawing, uncertainty clear on her frightened face.

“Twilight! We must leave now!” Octavia shouted, awkwardly galloping over to her and Pinkie. At the last moment, a gust of wind picked her up, and she slammed into Twilight, sending them both to the freezing ground in a disorienting splash. In an instant, the sigil was gone, and Twilight looked at Octavia, her eyes uncomprehending for the merest moment.

A white form rushed to their sides, and Twilight helped Octavia up. They followed Rarity to the ship, its tilting mass like a piece of debris at the end of deep gouges in the lawn. The gangplank had been torn off, and lay several yards away, near a muddy, frothy sand trap.

Before she could begin to analyze the situation, Octavia’s vision went black, and her body constricted. For one terror-filled second, she thought she had been sucked into the cyclone, but as the deck bloomed into her vision, sudden and firm, she realized what had happened. Pinkie and Rarity stood near the torch while Twilight panted in the powerful rain.

She lay on the floor, feeling the engines vibrating beneath the deck, but their sound was drowned out. Applejack clutched the wheel, wrenching it back and forth wildly, and the balloon’s fabric crackled above them like a thunderhead of its own. With a sudden, heart-stopping motion, the gunwale to her side rushed to batter her, and she was given a sickening, sweeping view of the golf course, some ten feet below.

Over the wind and the rain, she heard Applejack screaming. “Rarity! Shield!”

Rarity stood in the corner, her eyes half-lidded and swiveling like turbines. Slowly, a mild, blue shield crystallized around the ship, and the wind seemed to die; they steadied out.

Rainbow could see nothing in the distance. The tornado itself blocked her view of the city, and they were far enough away that even her keen eyes could only barely distinguish what little remained in sight from her angle. Another of her assistants had joined them in the room, and spoke quietly with Lowercase, who nodded sharply with each response. Double-checking systems and rations.

High off the ground, deep into the clouds, pitched and tossed by the wind, the ship was an egg in a bubble. Rarity crouched and trembled in the corner while Applejack fought the wheel, while Pinkie and Fluttershy cowered by the torch. Twilight stood at the rail, one hoof resting lightly on it, to look into the maelstrom that surrounded them. All around her was noise, and cold, and pressure. She couldn’t take her eyes off the rolling, black walls that surrounded them.

“Twi, we need to get out of here,” Applejack said. “Rarity’s not gonna last, an’ as soon as her shield breaks down, we’re gonna get shredded.”

Twilight looked to her emptily. In the back of her mind, the same, dark memories turned over each other. A gentle sway to one side, the ship moved into yet another eddy of wind, and she blinked. Armored ponies in the air.

“Damn it, Twilight, snap out of it!” a harsh voice barked. Applejack stared her down fiercely. “Yer the magician here. Do somethin’!”

A single, tired sob escaped from Rarity’s corner.

She looked into the endless ceiling of clouds. “Break a storm. Break a storm. How?” Slowly, the answer ebbed into her mind. They tilted again. “New telekinesis.” She looked out into the storm, her eyes landing on a dark shape deep in the dust. Reaching out, she could feel its heavy form on her magic, a slight imposition, and dragged it to them.

A car, crumpled and slick with rainwater, hovered in her purple aura just outside the ship. She looked into the destroyed interior, and for a moment, froze. Destruction. Glass on the seats.

“Twilight,” Applejack said again.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, asserting her strength on the invasive memories. “I can do this. I’ve done it before. Remember Cloudsdale (that’s Polaris up there).” She looked up once more and slowly tipped the car to face the clouds, bringing it to a better angle. With a sudden backlash that sent the entire ship reeling, it rocketed into the voluminous ceiling, punching a small hole. For a moment, she saw blue sky, and then it was gone. As quickly as she had damaged the storm, the clouds had returned.

Rainbow stood before Lowercase at an assembly in the fields outside Fillydelphia. The ships rested in a deep semicircle, and the citizens stood within, attentive and fearful. Lowercase stood at her side, professional as ever, his eyes expectant. She was supposed to tell them what to do. She looked back at the city, its eastern half pulverized.

“Uh… I, uh…” She looked out and saw Trixie at the front of the crowd, watching closely. “I can’t do this.”

She walked back to the ship.

Twilight tried another car, an uprooted tree, the destroyed plaster from a house, but each time, the clouds rushed back to fill the spaces before any progress could be made. Octavia watched as Twilight’s resolve slowly buckled, clear on her face with every failed attempt. Her eyes had been alight with optimistic creativity for a minute, but with her most recent, useless try, they clouded over once more. She slumped to the side of the rail, and Octavia could see hopelessness filling her. They had been in the air for ten minutes.

Octavia closed her own eyes to see the image that filled her dreams, and her memories. Even in the storm, contrition flooded through her; through the filter of adrenalin, and stretched thin by sleeplessness, it felt more like forfeiture.

A crude, shattered outhouse slid by, and Twilight caught it reflexively, bringing it to the ship. Octavia watched her appraise it, and an idea came. Her first impulse was to dismiss it, as she did every time it intruded, but it refused to fade. Looking at the ship, tossed and damaged, and with no clear way down, the idea suddenly seemed like her best option.

“Twilight, bring that closer,” Octavia commanded. “I have an idea.” She had to raise her voice over the shrieking air.

Twilight hesitantly dragged the outhouse onto the deck, its wooden body bouncing and shaking in the wind; Rarity’s shield was losing integrity, and the deck, slick and still earlier, was again jumping with droplets. Octavia approached the outhouse with mechanical resignation. Her head was dulled by the cold, the endless rain, and insomnia; her voice was a fearless monotone.

“Toss me, inside this, and I can make a large enough hole for us to escape.”

Twilight looked at her for a second before comprehension broke over her face. “No.”

She looked at Rarity, still crouching in the corner. “You have no other way to break these clouds. I can produce an explosion large enough, but you have to get me there.” In her mind, her own dead voice responded. “I can not do this.”

“Octavia, no! That’s crazy!” Pinkie wailed from behind.

“You’ll kill yourself,” Twilight said, shaking her head.

Octavia looked up again. “If it is to save this ship, then I will do it.” Not allowing Twilight to respond, she stepped into the outhouse, careful to place her hooves on only the most stable parts of its broken floor. “I know that I can do this.”

Twilight stared at her and looked from side to side. Rarity in the corner, Applejack at the wheel, Pinkie and Fluttershy holding each other by the torch. Clouds above, death below. Wind and rain, and a weak shield. The door swelled into its space, a purple tinge around it.

Octavia closed her eyes as Twilight lifted her off the deck. The sudden weightlessness made her chest tighten with fear, and as true knowledge of her situation crept into her mind, she was tumbled into oblivion.

Rainbow watched the city from her window while Lowercase pounded at the door, politely but firmly asking to be let in.

“This is my death.” Dust and grit blasted Octavia’s face and body, and she had lost all orientation within the first few seconds of flight. She bounced painfully within the wooden cage, and something sharp and rough scraped down her stomach; she did not cry out. In her mind, she had already lost. The idea was insane, and her confidence had been false from the start. She had thought only of dying when she voiced the idea. Her eyes were still closed, and she could hardly breathe. “I am so sorry.”

Her head hit something cold and wet, and her eyes cracked open. The wooden interior was stained with water and blood, jostled beyond coherency, and outside, there was only rushing gray. Images flashed through her mind. The farmhouse, the empty road, Trixie. A bed, a black silhouette, the moon through a grimy window. Mountains and trees.

“Yes, I am sorry.” She brought her focus into a single point. “So, so, sorry.” Confidence waxed back into her overwrought mind, and suddenly, the thoughts were powerful. “So, so, so sorry.”

It was easy. She felt her power coalesce, flowing from the tips of her hooves, from her tail and mane, from behind her eyes and nose, to the center of her forehead, until she seemed to wear it like a tiny, white hot crown. Across her fur and flesh, it tingled and singed, and with a release she had not felt in a very long time, the energy exited her in one rush.

Her vision went white, and her ears, once filled with the roar of wind, were bathed in a high-pitched drone.

A bang, loud enough to drown out the storm and Lowercase’s knocking, resonated from across the land, and a divot of clouds puffed outward. For a moment, Rainbow stared stupidly, but as the tornado thinned, she stood to press her face to the glass. It wobbled unhealthily, and slowly, its top was shed away. Ghosts of clouds drifted off the main mass, and the tail of wind, a cone of incalculable destruction not minutes ago, slowed. Dust bloomed outwards and specks of debris rained down, slowly.

Lowercase was quiet, and she glanced out at the edge of the crowd. Every pony stared, slack-faced, at the city.

When the clouds burst above them, halving the wind almost immediately, Twilight wasn’t sure what to do. Rarity’s shield fell away, and rain hit them again, but it was weaker. She looked up, her disbelieving eyes searching for signs of Octavia. Whether she had survived did not enter Twilight’s thoughts. She knew only two things: they were miraculously alive, and Octavia would be coming down.

Applejack made no sound, but slowly guided them away from the remaining wall of clouds.

Rainbow lay, with closed eyes, in a soft bed under a wide arc lamp. Only a minute after the tornado’s sudden abatement, Lowercase entered the room with a spare key. Rainbow, thinking quickly and impulsively, lowered herself to the floor, where she feigned unconsciousness—easier than she was expecting, in her heavy body.

She couldn’t keep the act up for long. As soon as she was had been deposited in the flagship’s medical wing, she gave herself away with a poorly-timed swallow. For a moment, she cringed inside her head, waiting for a reprimand; instead, Lowercase insisted she stay for the time. She made no objection.

While a single nurse did paperwork at the front of the wing, someone walked in and went straight for her bed. She was still addled by the impossible event she had witnessed, and even Trixie’s speculative, annoyed face softened her discomfort.

“That was some stunt you pulled out there,” Trixie said quietly.

“I know.”

Trixie stood by the bed for a time, looking at the medical equipment, the lamp, the sheets. “I can’t say for sure, but I borrowed a pair of binoculars; it looks like your friends survived. Their ship is leaving town. Or what’s left of it.”

The words sunk in slowly. “Of course they’re okay. They’re my best friends.” “I thought for sure they were gone, though.” “Totally alive.” “Totally dead.” She didn’t smile, or laugh, or anything. She didn’t know what to do, how to feel. “Huh. Good.”

Fluttershy dressed Octavia’s wounds as gently as she could. Twilight had plucked her out of the air, falling with closed eyes and a blood-matted front, to lay her, unconscious, on the deck. It was only once Fluttershy had gotten her into the bedroom, with Pinkie’s help, that she saw that Octavia was still alive. Her pulse was weak and erratic, and Fluttershy had to act quickly to stem the blood that flowed from a deep gouge across her stifle.

She could hear Rarity shivering in the adjacent room, where Pinkie tried to comfort her. The effort of keeping a shield around the entire ship, and Octavia's outhouse as it rocketed into otherwise certain destruction, was enough to form a hairline fracture in her horn—comparatively minor against Octavia’s injuries, but far more painful.

She held her jaw closed tight enough to hurt her teeth as she wiped a sponge across bloody fur. She had tried to tap into her magic at first, but her mind was overworked and over-stimulated. The tornado, the incredible plan, and the suddenness of their escape were all too much for her, and her eyes quivered with empathy for her friends. She looked at Octavia’s limp body.

“Why’d you do it?” she thought. No one else seemed to notice, but Fluttershy had. She saw it in Octavia’s eyes that morning, as they were heading for the golf course: desperate, dismal unhappiness that surpassed her usual neutrality. She had looked ready to fall down and die as they walked, and though Fluttershy had suspected something amiss, it was only confirmed in Octavia’s mad idea. She could not admit the word in her head.

When Twilight entered, silent and pensive, she could only meet her eyes for a second. “We’re out of the storm. Heading for Rainbow’s airships.”

“Oh, um, good,” Fluttershy said.

“How is she?”

“She stopped bleeding.”

Twilight sighed. “Thank Celestia.” She sat down at the foot of the bed and closed her eyes. “I almost flashed back on the deck.”

“Almost?”

“Applejack stopped me.”

“Ah.” Fluttershy nodded, not sure what to say. She was still upset, and Twilight’s problems, though she knew they shouldn’t be, were eclipsed by her own.

Twilight stayed where she was for a few minutes, but left when it was clear to her that there was no conversation. Octavia breathed lightly, and Fluttershy watched her, unable to do much with her frayed, stretched nerves.

Trixie stayed by Rainbow’s side, not speaking, but comforting her all the same with her passive presence. When she trotted out of the medical wing, Rainbow inclined her head curiously, but did not call out for her.

When she returned with Twilight and Applejack, Rainbow had to consciously stop herself from springing out of bed. They convened around her, and Twilight bowed her head.

“Is everyone okay?” Rainbow asked.

“Octavia’s in emergency care, and Rarity’s unconscious, but they should be okay in time.”

“What did you do?”

“We’ll tell you later. Once… all this is done. Trixie said ponies are starting to suspect something.”

Rainbow looked at Trixie severely. “Is that true?”

“Yes. Hailstone and Sunbeam are trying to get ready to switch you out for the real mayor,” Trixie whispered. “That little speech you gave was too much. Mayor Splotch would never do something like that.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Well, the real Mayor Splotch didn’t think her best friends were dying in a tornado.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Trixie said with a defensive shrug. “I have to talk to my agent. Be sure to say bye before you leave. You are leaving, right?”

“As soon as Octavia’s fit to be on our ship, we’re out of here,” Applejack said.

“You sure you can’t tell me what happened now?” Rainbow asked, looking briefly at Trixie as she walked away. Her face fell, only slightly.

“It’s best to wait,” Twilight said. “And… I haven’t quite processed it myself yet.”

Rarity had an ice pack tied around the base of her horn and a pair of jaunty sunglasses that she borrowed from Pinkie. Her head throbbed and ached like a broken tooth, and the medical ward’s stringent light was like drills in her eyes.

Octavia lay in bed, needles in her legs and a urinary catheter slithering out of her abdomen, a respirator hissing gently to one side. Fluttershy’s dressings still clung to her wound, but they had been reinforced by a second patch of gauze and bandages.

“She looks horrible,” Rarity said reverently.

“But she’ll be okay,” Pinkie said, offering a smile. “She’s my sister. I know she’ll be okay.”

Rarity nodded, too tired to question Pinkie’s resolution.

“But how are you? Your horn looked really unhappy.”

“I don’t really know. I’ve never cracked it before.” She looked at her reflection in the heart monitor, hating her ridiculous appearance.

“I bet you’ll be okay too. They do heal, right? I bet they do.”

“Again, I don’t know.” She tried to adjust the ice pack to adjust it, but winced at the bolt of heavy, hot pain through her head.

“You want me to get that?” Pinkie asked, tilting her head.

“It’s fine.”

After Twilight and Applejack left, back to the ship to try to begin repairs, Rainbow stared emptily at the ceiling. When a familiar-looking pair of ponies appeared at her side, she didn’t look immediately.

“We’re about to create a diversion in this wing, so we can switch your place with the real mayor,” Hailstone said.

Rainbow closed her eyes. “What do I have to do?”

“Just follow me,” Sunbeam said. “It’ll be extremely simple for you.”

“And you’re gonna put her in this bed, asleep? Won’t ponies question it? They’ve seen me awake.”

“Oh, there will be a tremendous inquiry later,” Hailstone said. “What Mayor Splotch has been saying would never happen just happened, and half the city is in ruins.”

“That isn’t our problem, though,” Sunbeam said. “Once she wakes up, we’ll sever her connection to Discord. She’ll realize what happened, and why it had to happen, and she’ll smooth everything over.”

“She’s in for a spectacularly rough couple of months,” Hailstone said with a tiny smile.

“Geez. I… feel kinda bad now,” Rainbow said.

Sunbeam looked quickly to the side; a jade pony stood in the doorway, staring at them intently. “That’s the signal. Come on, miss false-mayor. Get up.”

Rainbow climbed out of bed and allowed the pair of pegasi to escort her from the medical wing, down a corridor and outside. Her friends’ ship rested not far away.

“Go to your ship and stay there. We can’t have anyone seeing two mayors.”

“When do I get to be myself again?”

“The potion should wear off in a couple more days,” Hailstone said.

“And to address your concern about feeling bad, you should,” Sunbeam said. “We had someone lined up to do this for you. Someone who knew how the city worked, who wouldn’t simply dump the entire process on poor Lowercase.”

“He’s a creep, though,” Rainbow said.

“Lowercase is an inspiration,” Hailstone said. “Don’t tell Splotch this, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s running things soon.”

“Whatever.”

“Go, get on your ship.” She shook Rainbow’s hoof. “No offense, Rainbow, but I hope this is the last time we meet.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I hope I never have to come back here.”

Dinner time. Octavia sat in their circle on the deck, her lower half still wrapped in an ugly patch of yellow-white. Fluttershy had managed to bring her back to consciousness, once she had calmed down, but the wound was still tender. Twilight and Trixie sat to the side with Rainbow, discussing the tornado, and how they had handled it.

“Oh, getting a letter,” Twilight said sharply, producing a scroll from her horn. She opened it and read. “Twilight and friends. I must say, I’m shocked and a little proud of you. I didn’t know, wait, hold on.” She glanced at the bottom of the scroll. “Yeah, it’s Discord again. I didn’t know you had it in you to destroy my tornado. You’re clearly more powerful foes than I had thought. My commendations.” She frowned. “Celestia’s back, by the way. Weird that she hasn’t contacted you. I’m sure she has her reasons, though. Say hi to the princesses for me. Love, Discord.”

“He has the audacity to sign his letters that way?” Trixie said.

“Not usually,” Twilight said, folding it up and stowing it away. “He usually just writes ‘hahaha’ a bunch.”

“Ah think he’s mad ‘bout what we did,” Applejack said.

“He didn’t sound mad,” Twilight said.

“That’s the point. If we think we’re gettin’ to him, we’ll know we’re on the right track. He wants us to keep goin’ in circles, lookin’ fer new ways to attack an’ never figurin’ anythin’ out.”

“So what are you going to do?” Trixie asked.

Twilight pulled out a roll of parchment and her quill. “Write to the princess. Tell her what we did, and what Discord’s been saying.”

“Well, you go ahead and do that. I need to get back to my quarters,” Trixie said, stretching and getting up.

“Wait. We need to talk about your show.”

“Oh. That.” Trixie sat back down. “With all this excitement, I had forgotten about it. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Where are you gonna go?” Rainbow asked. Still in Mayor Splotch’s body, her voice was an unseemly rumble.

“My agent wants to try Manehattan. Apparently my kind of show is popular there, among the rich. They think it’s,” she made a disgusted face, “quaint. The rustic appeal, you know?”

“You? Rustic?” Pinkie said.

“I suppose,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I was born in Trottingham, so… yeah. You can take the girl out of the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of the girl.”

“Ah never knew you were a farmpony,” Applejack said, smiling the first real smile she had given that day. “What’s yer crop?”

“I never grew anything. I worked on the loading ramps when I was younger. Twenty or so airships passed through every day, each one dropping off this, picking up that.” She groaned softly. “I hate manual labor.”

“I can’t picture you doing anything like that,” Rainbow said.

“That’s an image I work to cultivate. I loathe my humble roots.”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with startin’ small, you know,” Applejack said.

“Yes, yes. Anyway, Twilight, Manehattan. We’re going to relocate there and… well, I suppose I’ll have to start figuring out how to get you into one of my shows. Maybe another polymorph potion.”

“If we’re in the area, I’m sure we can drop by to help out,” Pinkie said.

“Pinkie, dear, I would prefer if we never touched that horrible city ever again,” Rarity said.

“Hard feelings for Manehattan, huh?” Trixie asked.

“There was an incident there,” Rarity said icily. “One that I would not care to remember.”

“Say no more, Rarity. I understand completely.” She stood once more. “I’m afraid I must be leaving. Here, Twilight.” She floated a piece of paper to Twilight. “This is the spell you can use to send letters to me. Try to keep in touch.” She smiled. “I want to keep talking magic with you.”

“Of course, Trixie,” Twilight said. “I’d like that too.”

“And Octavia.” She shook her head sadly. “Please stay safe, Octavia.”

“I will do what I can,” Octavia said quietly.

“Well… see you all. It was lovely getting to know you.” She smirked. “Even you, Dashie.”

“Right back at ya, Tricky,” Rainbow said.

Trixie let out a single laugh as she went to the rail and teleported down to the ground. She gave them a final wave, and disappeared into the city of docked airships.

“Please excuse me,” Octavia said, rising unsteadily. Fluttershy hastened to help her, and, together, they went below the deck.

“Ah think Ah’m gonna miss her,” Applejack said. “She don’t have her head in the clouds near as much as Ah woulda guessed.”

Fluttershy helped Octavia into bed, and remained by its side, studying her. She wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

“Is something the matter?” Octavia asked. “You look distressed.”

“Um… yes.” She sat down, suddenly resolute. Octavia’s question had bolstered her. She locked eyes with the injured pony. “You could have died today.”

“I am aware of that.”

Fluttershy took a deep breath. In her head, she had gone over the conversation, but before Octavia’s inscrutable expression, stern even for her weakness, her courage withered. “I… um, I think you knew that too. Before you suggested it.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow, and Fluttershy moved back slightly. “What are you saying?”

“Um…” She looked away and pawed at the ground. “She needs this, Fluttershy. Don’t be a coward now.” “Maybe that you wanted to die?”

“I see.”

“Please don’t be mad,” Fluttershy said quickly, looking back up to try to discern Octavia’s mood. It was blank as always. “But… that’s what I thought. I’m sorry if I’m off-base; I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.”

“I was ready to die on the ship.”

“You… you were.”

“I did not expect Twilight to pull through. I know that she finds it difficult to rise to a challenge like that. I could see her slipping.”

“But—”

“I expected us all to perish today.”

“Octavia, no. You can’t do that.”

“What should I have done instead? Blind optimism is useless, as I am sure my sister has demonstrated.”

“But… sui—um, that, um, isn’t the answer. Ever.”

“I know that. I realized it inside the outhouse.”

“You realized it… up there?”

“Yes.”

“So… that means, before, when you told Twilight to throw you, you were…”

“Going to my death, yes.”

Fluttershy stared at her. Octavia’s composure suddenly didn’t look right; it looked tight, false. “No. No, that’s not right. That’s not… Octavia, no.”

“It was a momentary impulse.”

“With permanent consequences, though. If you hadn’t come to your senses, what would have happened?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Um… no.”

“Fluttershy, please.” Her voice changed on the final word. Fluttershy looked again at her eyes; they were different too. The faintest shine went across their bottoms, and when Octavia blinked, a drop clung to her eyelash.

She approached reflexively, ready to offer herself for comfort. “Octavia, what is going on?”

“I see it everywhere. Every waking moment, I see it. When I sleep, it fills my dreams.” There was a catch in her throat. “Every. Single. Day. For years, Fluttershy.” She shook her head. “I cannot prolong this agony much longer.”

“What agony? What happened?” Thoughts of suicide were gone; all that filled her head was how to help the pony before her, whose exterior she had never seen break.

“I cannot say,” Octavia whispered. “I thought that I had found peace in this adventure. For a time, I did.”

“What changed?”

“I do not know. I have been thinking about my fillyhood very much lately.”

“Is that what hurts you so much?”

“Yes.” She bowed her head. “I am sorry. I should not be doing this right now.”

“Octavia, no.” Fluttershy climbed up to the bed and moved in close. “It’s okay to let your defenses fall. Everyone has to, sometimes.”

“I am sorry.” Tears dripped onto the sheet. “I am so, so, so sorry. So sorry.” She gasped and leaned in to Fluttershy, who accepted her without a thought. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s really okay.”

Octavia shook her head deeper into Fluttershy’s down and whispered harshly, her voice rough. “I am so sorry.”

Fluttershy squeezed her tighter, wrapping her wings around her, and began to cry as well.

Applejack and Twilight, with a mixture of magic and guesswork, got the ship back in working order, repairing a wobbly turbine and replacing the gangplank. Afterwards, they took off, heading back to the golf course to finish their spell. The city was a tapestry of destruction, gleaming snags of metal and concrete in splintering rows along the barren streets. Their hotel had been reduced to ornate timber, and Heart Park was torn in long, ragged furrows. Trees and pieces of masonry littered the city, and the river was clogged with debris. What clouds remained continued to release a fine mist of rain, and near the west end of town, a single, dark thunderhead still loomed, but the wind and cold had died away.

With no storm to stop them, the spell worked just as well as always, and with the final quarter of the city restored, they boarded the ship and left, stopping briefly at the river to refill their water tanks. Applejack turned them to the west, into the empty fields, toward Appleloosa: a ten-day flight over plains, plateaus, and Manehattan in the middle.

It was eight o’ clock, and Fillyedlphia was a dark stain behind them. The airships outside were a small bubble of light and life, and it was while Twilight watched them slip away, leaning on the gunwale, that she received another letter.

Dear Twilight,

My sincerest apologies for not contacting you sooner. Work in the griffon lands was long and exhausting, and I am only now beginning to catch up with the affairs of Equestria. Princess Luna has informed me of your work in Fillydelphia, as well as Discord’s. It is a consequence of the initial spell that I do not believe any of us foresaw.

I will not bore you with the technical details, but the stillness of the waters, along with Cloudsdale’s recent difficulties, has left our pegasi in a state of semi-helplessness. In brief, their control over the weather is slipping. I cannot say whether it is entirely due to this that the country has been encountering such problems, or if there is an unseen magic at work as well, weakening the weather binding. Whatever the case, the incident in Fillydelphia, while certainly the most severe, is not isolated. Applewood and Snowdrift have been beset with uncontrollable storms as well. So far, it is a minor obstacle; I hope that it remains so.

As I am certain my sister has told you, Discord is again at work, reconstructing an army. She has taken steps to slow his progress, and while the process has been successfully prolonged, there appears no way to completely stop it. Discord has been very elusive lately, and while Luna can, and has, shut down many of the spells around his castle, she cannot reach him.

For the time, Canterlot is safe, but it will not be for much longer. Take haste.

In love and friendship,

Princess Celestia

P.S.: I have commissioned a search for the missing Elements. I have heard of no progress yet, but ponies have been looking for only a couple days.

None of her friends were nearby. Applejack steered, Rarity watched the world from the other side, and everyone else was below. She folded the letter and assumed it into her magical storage area, empty. She could have put it in her bags, she knew, but turning away from the lonely view seemed inappropriate to her. Fillydelphia had fallen because they hadn’t acted quickly; it was only right she watch it go.

“Maybe it’s not our fault,” she thought. “We were only there a few days. Things were already well and truly progressing by the time we got there. Could we really have made a difference?” She sighed at the thought. “There’s only seven of us. Princess Celestia is only just beginning to enlist help.” She looked at Rarity, hunched at the opposite rail much the same as herself. “Are we really alone in this?”

She shook her head softly. “I can’t think this way,” she whispered, and turned to walk over to Applejack.

The farmpony gave her a friendly nod as she sat by her side. “Quite the day, huh?”

“I’m just glad Rainbow was able to get the citizens out in time,” Twilight said. “Things were bad, but they could have been a lot worse.”

“You can say that again.”

Twilight nodded and stared off the front of the ship. “So, Appleloosa.”

“The western frontier. Ah just hope we get there this time.”

“It’ll be good to see your family again.”

The following morning, they had escaped the last of the rain clouds, and the sun was out. Rainbow, still in the mayor’s body, sunned herself on the deck while everyone else settled into the routine of flight. Twilight read and studied, and taught Octavia magic when the books got to be too much for her, while everyone else socialized. Applejack found a warped train track and set the ship along it, and for the entire day, and some of the third, their only view was the small, dense chain of mountains a hundred miles to the north.

On the fourth day, midway through lunch, Rainbow doubled over in a convulsing, gasping tremor, and before their alarmed eyes, transformed back into her former self. She had to rush to the rail to vomit, but when she was done, and had downed a glass of water, she went on an ecstatic fly alongside the ship. The mountains were gone, and they were over a wide, pale green spread of shattered fields.

By the sixth day, they were passing Manehattan, and Rarity fell quiet as they slipped over Starlight Lake. The closely packed towers were a far cry from Fillydelphia’s expanded, spacious architecture, and they spent all day looking down into the city; the clouds that had covered it weeks ago were still there, and there was not a lot to see.

Outside Manehattan, the green fields leveled out into dusty, brown plateaus. A single, thin set of train tracks ran parallel to a sparkling river, and they followed it away from the metropolis, deep into the empty west. Nothing broke the flat skyline, and on the seventh day, when Manehattan was only a hazy aspect behind them, trees appeared in the distance.

The ground once again turned uneven and colored, and the gaps between were fewer. A strong sense of excitement suffused the ship, with nearly everybody’s thoughts on Appleloosa; only Octavia remained steadfastly depressed, refusing everyone’s advances with icy formality. According to Twilight’s map, they were only a few hundred miles from the western Equestria border: the edge of their world.

It was early evening on the tenth day when they descended onto the tiny town.

“Well, we made it,” Applejack said. She smiled and took a deep, long breath. “Smell that good ol’ country air.”

“You know what this calls for, don’t you?” Pinkie asked, gamboling to the front of the ship to look out at the town.

“Ah’ll bet Ah do, Pinkie, an’ fer once, Ah agree with ya.”

“A paaaaarty!”

Applejack released the gangplank, laughing, and the two of them raced down it with a cheer. Rainbow streaked behind, and Rarity smiled warmly from the gunwale as the three of them filled the dusty road with their jubilation. For several minutes, they danced and made noise in the dim street, kicking up clouds and raising their voices to the sky, but no one appeared. They slowly wound down, until they were standing in quiet confusion between two dark, small buildings, Pinkie’s confetti pounded into the dust.

“Where is everyone?” Rainbow asked.

“It’s still evening. There should be ponies in the streets,” Applejack said.

“Especially after the racket we just made,” Pinkie said. “Helloooooo? Anypony there?”

“Hang on,” Rainbow said. “Let me scope this out.” She flew into the gloaming, where she turned a slow circle, one hoof to her eyes to clear away the lingering sunset. “There’s something going on on the other side of this street.” She landed, and the others debarked from the ship. “There’s a huge crowd outside a big house.”

“Let’s check it out,” Applejack said.

As they walked to the street’s end, low voices faded in from the distance. The road was unpaved dirt, and the buildings on its sides were simple, wooden constructions, unpretentious, but not without charm. A wooden sign creaked on chains in a dry breeze, and the sunset caught the skeleton of a bridge in the far distance, silhouetted against a row of thick trees.

They turned the corner onto a larger thoroughfare, where they were faced with a broad crowd of ponies, some with torches, standing outside a large, square house. A thick collar of rose bushes skirted its pale yellow walls, white pillars holding up a second story, one of its narrow windows lighted like a feverish eye in the evening. A respectful hush covered the dry lawn, and Applejack tapped a pony on the wither.

“What the hay’s goin’ on here?”

The pony looked at her with narrowed eyes, for just a moment, before speaking in a quiet voice. “Miss Ringlet’s been possessed.”

“Possessed?”

“Like, discorded?” Rainbow asked.

“No one knows,” the pony whispered.

“Is she inside?” Pinkie asked. Her voice was at full volume, and she drew a few displeased glances.

“With the family, yes. And an exorcist.”

She looked back quickly at an agonized howl, and an indeterminate, authoritative shout over it. A sea of ears cocked at the sounds, and as the scream died down, the shouting continued. They could pick out a couple words: “Luna,” “compel,” “out.”

“He’s even reached the frontier,” Rarity said.

“I’ve gotta see this,” Rainbow said, flapping up into the air.

“Seriously?” Twilight breathed, watching her friend fly up to the lit window.

“She may have something helpful to report,” Rarity said.

Rainbow felt awkward and unwelcome as she brought a hoof to the windowsill to stabilize herself. She could feel the crowd’s eyes on her as she flew up, and immediately regretted her impulsive decision, but it was too late. It was better to follow through and look impertinent than back out, she imagined.

Through a gateway of thick curtains, she could see a dim bedroom, illuminated only by a trio of candles in a wide pool of pale wax. Three ponies surrounded a bed of tossed sheets. Two, she could see profile; they wore frightened, beleaguered expressions, one looking into the bed, the other staring resolutely ahead. The final pony had his back to her, and looked to be several years older than the other two. He was a vibrant green unicorn with sharp, polished hooves, and a gnarled tail that brushed the ground softly.

He floated a golden insignia before him, and slowly lowered it to the bed, which thrashed and howled in response. He appeared to speak, but Rainbow couldn’t make out the words. She leaned in, her nose almost touching the glass. The pony in the bed lashed out, and the unicorn stepped back quickly; Rainbow caught a single glimpse of a bound hoof as he adjusted his position.

“In the name of our princess and goddess, Luna, I command you to leave her!”

Another howl pierced the stillness, and Rainbow flapped her ears down. The sound was pained, almost afraid, but she felt only anger and disgust for its source. The bed rattled and the ponies at its side stood back, but the exorcist was not shaken. He lowered the symbol once more.

“Out! Leave her now!”

Another howl, louder and longer, and Rainbow closed her eyes in annoyance. “Celestia, shut up,” she whispered. She watched the exorcist thrust his symbol at the bed, and the voice rose in pitch.

“In Luna’s name, I command you to leave!”

The scream turned to a low growl, and Rainbow matched it with her own. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she mumbled, resting her head on the glass. The scene fascinated her, but listening to it was tortuous. As she mouthed the words, the creases of her frown deepening, the unicorn turned around briefly.

As soon as he saw her, his face changed. From determined to alarmed in a flash, his horn lit the entire room, and the two others looked up quickly.

“Aw, shit.” Rainbow flapped away from the window, but before she could land, the pony was outside the house.

“Stop where you are, demon!”