Twilight read below, sharing the room with Octavia, practicing her shield magic quietly in the corner. She was halfway through A History of the Elements of Harmony, one of the few books she had chosen to bring for pleasure reading. It traced each Element separately, starting with their collective origin as servitors of Celestia and Luna’s will, and following them as they moved down generations of bearers, sometimes vanishing in times of peaceful inactivity, hiding in ponies who never knew they had been chosen.

“Twilight?”

She looked up at Octavia, who held a pillow in her magic, and her first thought was “Is she going to try to start a pillow fight?” She motioned for Octavia to proceed.

“I want to speak with you.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I do not like the way we handled the swamps this morning.”

Twilight only nodded, the remnants of her humor fast wilting.

“I am not blaming you. We all acted rashly.”

“Yes.”

“What will we do when we find the next Element?”

“Uh, be more careful, I guess. It’s all we can do.” Twilight frowned. “Where is this going?”

“I have been thinking about the future. We are close to half finished with our task. I believe that we need to begin considering our paths more seriously.”

“We’ve been pretty serious already, though.”

“Look at how we began, and look at where we are now.”

Twilight thought back. “Well, the first place we went with you was Manehattan.”

“Our time together has been riddled with disasters, both minor and severe. Our morning in the swamps is yet another. As this adventure continues, the stakes will get higher, the consequences graver. To be blunt, Twilight Sparkle, I do not like the way I see this ending.”

“And how do you see it ending?”

“Discord is preparing his second attack on the capital, if he has not done it already. At this pace, there very well could be a third. I do not know how strong Canterlot is, or the princesses’ capabilities to defend it, but I do not feel confident that it can survive three attacks.”

“You think Canterlot will fall,” she said, her voice low.

“Yes. And if that happens, our goal is lost. We will no longer be stopping an intrusive threat; we will need to reclaim our country from his rule. I do not think that we can do that.”

Twilight thought. Octavia’s words echoed her darkest thoughts, and, though she wanted to agree, she could not. “Octavia, I think you’re being pessimistic.”

“I am being cautious.”

“So what do you suggest we do? We can only fly so fast, you know.”

“I do not know. I want to say that we should not allow ourselves to be distracted, but I know now that that is not likely. Moreover, it is not in the spirit of what our princesses want us to do. As much as this is about removing Discord, it is also about helping ponies.”

“So… I’m lost. What is it that you want? Why are you telling me all this?”

“I am voicing my concerns, nothing more.” She paused, placing the pillow on the bed and moving to grab a book of her own. “Did I tell you that I researched Thunderhead while you were under the ocean?”

Twilight didn’t respond immediately. “What a question. While I was under the ocean.” She shook her head. “You didn’t.”

“Vanilla Cream came to me in a dream and told me to research a ship by the name of Deep Freeze. It is the ghost ship.”

“What did you find out?”

“Nothing useful. Thunderhead is an imitation of a dead siren, who ferried ponies from the coast to an island for meetings with the changelings. She was no villain.”

“A siren?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. I’ve read about them, but not extensively. Do you suppose Thunderhead is a siren too?”

“I do not know.”

“You’re right, though. That’s not helpful at all.” She went back to her book, and Octavia encased her own book in a small, spherical shield.

Rainbow wrote back to Trixie that night, and had Twilight send the letter before bed, despite her advice to wait until morning. Trixie had had a long day, she said, and a letter sent at their hour would likely wake her up. Rainbow didn’t care.

Spurred by Vanilla’s sudden reappearance, she volunteered to spend half of the night watching the deck, Big Mac with her. The two took opposite sides of the ship for half an hour before converging at the wheel and sitting together under a weak weather dome of warm air. The Friesian Mountains were but a single day away, and Rainbow thought she could see the still glow of Applewood in the deep distance. In the cold sky, no sound reached them, and the world was again laid out before them as a dark matte, divided.

Far from Canterlot, the splits were large and few. A crack in the ground ran a few miles to their north, jaggedly stretching along a sparse wood. The neat lines of railroad tracks caught starlight below, winking at them out of a sea of velvet shadow. The depths of the wilderness were not something she had seen before, even in film.

“So y’all been away from Ponyville fer how long?” Big Mac asked.

“Close to four months now, I think. We left sometime in April.”

“That’s incredible, bein’ away from home so long. Ah dunno ‘bout you, but Ah get homesick.”

“Same. It’s the simple stuff you miss the most, you know? Flying around that familiar sky, goofing off with the other weatherponies, napping on a cloud.”

“Harvestin’ apples,” Big Mac said, nodding in powerful strokes. “Pullin’ the old cart.” He sighed. “My other friends.”

“Did you have a lot of friends back there?” She looked at him, realizing as she did so how little she knew about him.

“Aloe an’ Lotus an’ Ah were pretty close. An’ Roseluck.”

“I never knew any of them.”

“Three sweethearts, especially Rose.”

Rainbow raised her eyebrow, and her magic faltered. She took a moment to reassert control over her small spell. “Tell me about her.”

“A great mare, all around. She’s funny an’ outgoin’, and smart too. Much smarter’n me. She an’ Ah had a game where we saw how many of her flowers we could sneak into a pony’s bag before they noticed.”

“That’s cute.”

“Artist, too. She drew me a picture of her hometown once. Ah’ve got it in a drawer back on the farm.”

“Is she a unicorn?”

“Earth pony, like me.”

“So…” She toyed with her hoof. “It kinda sounds like you like her.”

“Eeyup. Ah had a big crush on her.” He exhaled through his nose and looked over Rainbow’s head. “Ah wanted to ask her out, but Ah never did. Ah regret that strongly now.”

“You can always do it when we get back.”

“If we get back, you mean.”

Rainbow looked at him. “When we get back, Big Mac. We’ll be okay.”

“We weren’t okay this mornin’.”

“We were stupid this morning.” She lay down on the deck, and her warm air faded away. “Crap. Lost it.”

“It’s okay.”

“Most of us are pretty level-headed. Maybe even a little too level-headed. I doubt today is a mistake we’ll be repeating any time soon.”

“Miss Octavia said she feels bad fer lettin’ us run ahead like we did.”

“Of course she does.”

“She was bein’ foolish, she said.”

“You hang out with her a lot.”

“She’s an interestin’ pony.” Noticing Rainbow’s sharp look, he continued. “Not that Ah’m interested in her in the way yer thinkin’ of. Ah find her an intriguin’ conversationalist.”

“I guess you could call her that.”

“Bit of a pessimist. Not like you, Miss Dash.”

She cocked an eyebrow and ear. “Not like me? What the heck’s that mean?” She studied his serious expression. “I mean, I know I’m awesome. It comes naturally.” She smiled with her teeth.

He yawned and stood up. “What time is it?”

“You can go to bed if you want,” she said. “Don’t make yourself miserable on my account.”

“If you say so. Night, Miss Dash.” He took a step toward her, then backed away and went to the hatch. She watched his tan tail disappear into the dark square, wide awake and puzzled.

“Yeah, see ya.”

The torch was on full blast to bring them high enough to cross into the mountain range. From where they approached, the land rose swiftly in a great, white and green shelf, fanged with rigid spines of earth. By the time they reached the first mountain, they would be approximately three thousand feet above sea level, and more than eight thousand feet off the planet’s surface. Twilight had breakfast with a thin book on climatology that morning, hoping to determine whether they would need magical assistance to compensate for the possible lack of air. Their atmosphere had come up with them, for the most part, but there was no telling how much there would be at approaching two miles; if any had bled off the borders or up into space, they might not get the chance to figure that out.

“So we’re just gonna use the mountains to get our bearin’s,” Applejack said. “Probably cast a spell or two, right Twi?”

“I think that would be a good idea. I don’t see much from this angle, but I bet it’s pandemonium inside.”

“Are there any volcanoes in there?” Rainbow asked.

“No active ones.”

“But there were volcanoes in the past?”

“Several centuries ago, I think so.” She leafed through her book. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an Element hiding in there,” Rarity said. “A desolate mountain chain, cold and cut off from the rest of Equestria? It’s perfect.”

“I’ll be checking for it,” Fluttershy said. “I do every day now.”

“Every day? Is that necessary?” Applejack asked.

“The most intelligent thing Discord could do in this situation would be to hide at least one Element in a random spot in the uninteresting wilderness,” Fluttershy said. “No landmarks, no cities, nothing to attract our attention.” She looked at Rainbow. “And no adventures.”

“You sure are insightful into how he thinks,” Pinkie said. “Weeeeeeeirdly insightful.”

Fluttershy frowned at her. “Why would you say that?”

“No reason!”

“That’s if he’s smart. Um, I’m not entirely sure that’s the case.”

“So, what are these mountains like, anyway?” Rainbow asked, looking at Octavia.

“I have not been anywhere except the base of one,” Octavia said, “but, from what I understand, they are mostly uninhabited. They are very cold, and vegetation is scarce.”

“I read that there are only a few small settlements,” Twilight said. “Pegasi, mostly, since they do best at higher altitudes.”

“There is also a system of mines underneath them.”

“Mines? No way,” Rainbow said.

“They’re called the Murgese Mines,” Twilight said. “They’re very old; I have a book about them, but I didn’t bring it.”

“Are we gonna go down into them?” Pinkie asked.

“Probably not. I was hoping we could just pass over this, cast a couple spells, and move on to the city.”

“I agree. The sooner we get to Applewood, the better,” Rarity said, shivering to punctuate her point.

By lunch, the ship’s altimeter proclaimed them at sixty-five hundred feet off the surface, and the air was as thick as ever. Twilight had a spell ready in case they suddenly lost oxygen, but, she said, it didn’t look like they’d need it.

Below, sharing the cabin with Pinkie, Rainbow got out a quill and parchment, intending to write back to Trixie, who had responded early that morning, primarily urging her to be careful on her flight out to Appleloosa. What began as a description of their journey to the mountains, however, became something else, and she sat back with three pages of sloppy mouth-writing half an hour later, none of it addressed to her marefriend.

Then she wrote more. Three pages became five, and she didn’t notice Pinkie reading over her shoulder as Daring Do made her appearance in the sudden story, flew off what had become her own airship and dove into a malingering bog to do battle Ahuizotl.

Five became ten, and ten became twenty, and when Big Mac came down to check on her, it was seven-thirty; she realized she had spent the last five hours writing, and not one bit of it fit to send to Trixie. She stowed it in her bag, emptied of most of its contents long ago to be used as a communal sack, and went up to dinner. Three hours later, most of them had gone to sleep, and Applejack took the first watch so she could land them somewhere safe.

They were parked casually on the outermost mountain slopes when the first snowflakes fell, midway through Octavia’s watch, taking over for Applejack. An icy gully collected white dust in a shining, arterial stream down into a craggy mouth, unhinged and collapsed in a shattered abyss of moon-kissed shadow. Towering pines peeked echinate tops out of soft snowdrifts, furring the mountain, a dark front to the suggestions of a calamitous interior, beset at one time with avalanches, mudslides, and chasms all suddenly visited upon the land, motionless months later.

She had wanted to play her cello. Even the minor motion of creating music would help warm her, but the air was dry as well as cold, and she had no means of repairing the instrument should it warp. She paced the deck, occasionally practicing her magic to clear snow, waiting for dawn.

When it came, they ate below, and Rainbow tried to warm their room before losing her magic to a fit of laughter at Pinkie’s joking around. They went out reluctantly and got in the air, Applejack bringing them up at an oblique angle to the nearest cliff faces. An hour later, and with no sign of an Element, they landed on a gray sheet of bedrock jutting audaciously from its mountain. Below, a glittering display of stone and ice decorated a small, narrow pit that emptied several miles west into pale sky.

With Rarity holding a shield up to keep snow off the pair, Twilight and Pinkie moved down onto the sheer, striated parapet, overlooking a wide vista beyond the ice and stone below that they had not noticed from the ship. Mountainsides converged like the teeth of a massive saw, boulders as large as their ship caught in perilous balancing acts on points of stone or ice, their heavy, dark forms offset with the dimensionless sheen of fresh snow. Twisted trees straggled against the cold, bending up at intervals like warped hooks, their branches bare and spinal.

Twilight set to work with her magical ink and brush without a thought, except to recall the sigil that Princess Celestia had burned into her mind close to four months ago. It was as if she had a drawing of it behind her eyes, and she completed the outer ring before giving into shivers. The snow formed a pale dome over their heads, but Rarity could not keep the wind out, nor heat the air within.

“So yer magic’s back to normal,” Applejack said. “That’s good.”

“You know, after I adjusted, it wasn’t actually that hard to get by without it. I only wish I had it back in Passage Town.”

“I wonder how they’re all doing,” Fluttershy said.

“Didn’t you say there was a secret agent pony there?” Rainbow asked.

“At least one, yes. She told us about their pump before we left,” Rarity said.

“Are there any around here, you think?”

“If there are ponies here, then yes, most likely.” She crouched to draw her forelegs in under her chest. “Can you heat us up, Dash?”

“I’m trying,” Rainbow said. “It’s hard with everyone talking.”

Rarity rolled her eyes and watched Twilight work. She moved tightly across the harsh stone surface, head bent in concentration, horn a mild purple beacon behind falling snow. The shield above her had been covered, and snow steadily sloughed down its sides. Rarity could feel its weight on her magic like a suggestion she had taken to heart, keeping her mind alert but not taxed.

Behind her, Octavia came out to watch, grumbling about the cold. Rarity looked at her for a second, long enough to see harried eyes and patchy fur. She looked back to Twilight, completing a circle of interconnected glyphs close to the sigil’s middle, close to Pinkie. It had been a long time since they had witnessed the spell, and she saw Applejack looking upwards out the corner of her eye.

“Ah think we’re okay fer now, but, Rarity, be ready with a shield fer the ship.”

“Why?” she asked, still watching Twilight.

“Avalanches.”

Fluttershy, on her other side, turned around swiftly to look up, backing up and moving forward in swift jitters, her wings partially flared.

“It’ll be fine, Shy,” Rainbow said. “Rarity can handle it. You can, right?”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Rarity said. “Avalanches are pretty large.”

“It is too late anyway,” Octavia said. As she said it, she sat down, lowering her head and closing her eyes to the thunderous sound that wrapped around them. The mountains seemed to quiver in their seats, and, above, peaks wheeled in the distance like buoys on a turbulent sea. Snow fell in rills all about them, near and far, spangling sharp-angled chasms.

On their own ship, no debris landed, and their eyes were glued to a dislodged obelisk of ice as it fell not twenty feet away, chipping its base off into a cuboid fragment on a similar platform to Twilight’s, a single, sharp crack over the rumbling throughout. Somewhere, a grumble turned to a powerful growl of moving stone.

When it was over, Octavia pushed past to go down to them, stepping through Rarity’s shield and emerging a minute later with Twilight draped over her and Pinkie hopping cheerfully behind. When they were all on the ship, Rarity let her protection fall, and the accumulated snow collapsed in a single soft noise, scarcely audible over the dying rockslide in the distance.

“Bet you’re not so adverse to physical contact now, huh Octavia?” Rainbow said.

Octavia let Twilight lie on the deck under a smaller shield. “It is averse, and I never said I was against it. It is simply not my preference.”

“Don’t backpedal, you hate it.” She sidled up to throw a wing around Octavia, but Octavia moved back, and the ship came to life.

“Get away from me.” She raised an ear. “Is there something wrong with the ship?”

“Ah think it’s the cold,” Applejack said. “Engine’s runnin’ a little slow.” They lifted off the mountain with a chug of machinery. “There we go.”

“Is it only running slowly, or do we need to worry?”

“We’ll probably be okay, as long as we don’t spend too long up here.”

“I thought the Manehattan dealership told us it could withstand temperatures like this,” Rarity said. “That was the reason we chose it.”

“That sounds right.”

“Good. I will be below,” Octavia said. She went down to her cabin without looking back, and there she found Twilight staring into a book, her eyes not moving.

“How’s it going up there?” Twilight asked.

“Fine. I do not know where we are going next. I do not think Applejack knows either.”

“Great.”

Octavia eyed her for a second before responding. “Is something bothering you?”

“No, of course not.” Twilight flipped a page. “I’m fine.”

“You do not sound that way.”

“How do I sound?”

“You sound like you are hiding something. That is something that I have learned is not a good sign from you.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.”

Twilight flipped another page, then two more, frowning. “Where is it?” she mumbled. Octavia watched, motionless, as Twilight went through her book, never finding her page. At last, she looked up briefly and closed the volume. “I had another flashback in the swamps, okay? I saw it while we were all under that enchantment.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” She scooted the book off the bed and drew the sheets around her. “Not good.”

“But you must be handling it better, if you were able to hide it from us like this.”

Twilight glanced at the book on the floor. “It means I’m handling it worse, Octavia.”

“I do not understand. If you are worse off, then—”

“Because I’m hiding something serious from my best friends. That’s what I was researching. Not that I didn’t already know it, but I wanted to be sure.” She sighed. “It means I’m withdrawing. Instead of trying to find help, I’m trying to shut you out.”

“Why admit this to me, then? Why let me know?”

“You asked.”

“You could have lied.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose I could have. Would you have?”

“Do I ever?”

“I wouldn’t know the answer to that.” She put her face in her hooves. “Okay, we’re getting off topic. I think a part of me must still want help, because there’s this really strong temptation to lie to you, and tell you I’m okay, but this little voice in my head keeps insisting that I shouldn’t.”

“You should do what you think will help you. If you need to be alone—”

“Don’t.”

“No?”

She lay down, putting the sheet over her face. “I did this in Appleloosa too. And Trottingham. Rainbow Dash and Vintage. They both talked to me. I almost did it with you, in Manehattan. More, I mean. I’ve wanted to.”

“Why me?”

“You seem like you have experience.”

Octavia nodded slowly. “You flatter me.”

“We kept active immediately after the swamps, and I had a lot to think about, like the mountains, and Rarity’s horn. But, then I dreamt of it again last night.” She paused, holding onto her next words. “It’s not looking good.”

“I disagree.”

“How?”

“You are speaking more openly than I have ever heard you, and you are not yet crying.”

“Well, isn’t that just great?”

Octavia grabbed her blanket and tugged it away. “Face me when you speak. Do not hide yourself like this.”

“I’m cold.”

“Me too.” She approached Twilight, her tail flicking once. “I am cold, and tired, and miserable, just like always. In this exact moment, I feel as though I am one long blink away from falling forward and sleeping on the floor, but utterly unable to take that blink. My muscles are sore, my eyes feel like sand, and my stomach hurts. You do not know this, because I hide it well, but some nights, I spend hours in the bathroom, thinking that I must throw up from the stress. Sometimes, I do.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Before, you have expressed that you feel like you are alone in this, and I want to remind you that you are not.”

“So how do you make it look so easy?”

“If you think that this looks easy, then you are a fool,” Octavia said. “I receive comments on my appearance all the time. However, to answer your question: determination. It is as simple as that.”

Twilight fell back with her sheet. “Well, all right then. Easy enough, right?”

Octavia whipped the blanket away once more. “Do not be glib, Twilight Sparkle.” She bundled it up in her magic and lobbed it over the bed. “This is your health that we are talking about.”

Twilight looked at her defiantly for a moment before looking away. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s… this is really hard, okay? I woke up from a flashback, talked with that creepy devil Vanilla, and then had a dream about it.” She forced a chuckle. “I didn’t have a good day yesterday.”

“None of us did.”

Twilight simply lay where she was, breathing. “This isn’t something that’s going to go away after our adventure.”

“Did you think it would?”

“A part of me’s been assuming it.”

She watched Twilight for a time, watching the play of thoughts ordering and disordering themselves across her dulled face. “I understand.”

Twilight looked at her.

“If you remember, the day we met, I had us stop near my neighborhood for me to get some things out of my apartment. My cello, and a few smaller possessions. I nearly had Applejack return without me.”

“Really?”

“It was one of the hardest decisions of my life to come with you, even though it meant that all I was running from was debt. In the end, I think I agreed to come along because I did not fully understand that there would be an end to this. Like you, part of me assumed that everything would fix itself in my absence. Bills would stop coming, money would somehow return, and my life would be restored while I was off on a quest.”

“And it didn’t.”

“Of course not.”

“So what does this have to do with me?” She looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry. I don’t want to sound callous. I know you have a lot of issues too.”

“The point, Twilight, is that we are not finding the solutions to our own problems here. We are trying to help Equestria. We cannot pretend that this adventure is some kind of inexplicable cure-all, because it is not.”

“No happily ever after, right. I know that.”

“Do you accept it?”

“Do you?”

“Of course.”

Twilight sighed. “Of course you do. I knew that.”

“Determination, Twilight.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Above, a pair of clear, blue eyes shone from a patch of snow under the balloon’s edge, and Vanilla Cream climbed out of the shallow, white shape like something inflating from an unseen source. Fluttershy watched him emerge before racing below, and the others turned to see him at her hurried movement.

“Yer back early,” Applejack said.

“There’s a reason for it,” he said. “I was going to go off on my own for a while, but then I saw that you had gone into the mountains, and I couldn’t resist the excuse to come back. This is my favorite region of Equestria, right here.” He inhaled the brisk air with a grand smile. “One can be alone here, if one chooses, for an entire lifetime, and it’s seldom that any as brave as you come calling. More spellcasting, I assume?”

“Psh, duh,” Rainbow said, and he nodded.

“Well, as you should know by now, I don’t like to visit without bringing with me some sort of reward, and as last time I moved you across the map, this time I come bearing magic.”

“Another one of yer fancy Tartarus schools of magic?” Applejack asked.

“I cannot wield your magic.”

“Hmph.” He appraised her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Y’all best stop starin’ at me like that, if you wanna keep that smug face of yers.”

He laughed. “Applejack, you are no more threat to me than the snowflakes landing on my coat.” He walked towards her. “I know what I shall do. You, my doubtful friend, will be my next recipient.”

“No, Ah ain’t. Ah don’t want it.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“It’s actually pretty awesome,” Rainbow said. “Like, you can feel the magic inside you. It’s powerful stuff, AJ.”

“Now’s not the time to play devil’s advocate, Rainbow,” Applejack said.

“Pun intended?” Vanilla asked coyly.

“Ah don’t remember addressin’ you, dark one.”

Vanilla laughed softly. “Cute, very cute. Do you think naming me gives you power?”

“What Ah think,” Applejack said, taking a defiant step toward him, “is that Ah’m tired of you hangin’ ‘round uninvited, an’ Ah’m tired of you freakin’ out poor Fluttershy every time you decide to show.”

“You want me gone.”

“Good guess.”

“Applejack, don’t be like that,” Rainbow said. “This magic’s the real deal. Twilight and I can both vouch for that.”

“Ah don’t care if Ah get the power to alter space an’ time, Ah don’t want it from this thing.”

“What about a power that will remove the need to worry about taking care of your ship?”

“Pardon?”

“Magic that will, with practice, allow you to control machines,” Vanilla said, sweeping the air in front of him with a hoof. “Like your airship.”

“Ah control that good enough already.”

“I suspect that is only because you don’t understand what it’s like to have true dominion over a thing.” He grinned. “As Rainbow Dash said, it’s pretty awesome. To magically control your ship is to do more than steer and accelerate it; you will have mastery, complete and unbroken, over each mechanical aspect. Engines, torch, flywheels, rudder, all things controlled separately from the others or in concert, in accordance with your choosing. It’ll be a connection unlike any you’ve ever experienced.”

Applejack looked at him, then back at the torch. Pinkie stood just by, watching, and Fluttershy’s eyes reflected between the cracked hatch and deck. “Ah don’t care.”

“What do you fear?”

“Ah don’t like the idea of you messin’ ‘round inside my head, plain an’ simple.”

“Applejack, this isn’t a trap,” Rainbow said. “He didn’t do a single thing to me.”

Vanilla’s grin widened. “It won’t just be the airship. I advertise control of all machines—if you have the patience to learn it.”

Applejack shook her head. “Ah don’t care.”

“Your friends might.” He gestured to Rainbow, and then the hatch, which snapped shut.

“Do it, AJ,” Rainbow urged. “Think about what Octavia would say. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one’.”

Applejack looked at her, then back at Vanilla. “Ah don’t like any of this, Ah’ve been sayin’ from the beginnin’. Ah don’t trust it, an’ Ah don’t trust you.”

“You’re not even giving him a chance, though.”

“Look at the swamps,” Vanilla said. “Or have you already forgotten?”

“No, Ah remember.”

“Do you suspect an ulterior motive in my saving your lives as well?”

Applejack bit her lip, and heaved a heavy, breathy sigh that visibly rose in the air. “If Ah say yes to this spell, what are you gonna do to me?”

“You won’t feel the enhancement.”

“How long will it take?”

“Maybe a minute.”

“C’mon, Applejack, don’t resist progress,” Rainbow said.

“The lady is correct, Applejack.”

“Okay, okay, quit pushin’ me,” Applejack said. “Okay.” She took a shivering moment. “Let’s get this over with.”

Vanilla smiled patiently. “Wonderful. Was that so hard?” Not giving her a moment to reconsider or prepare, he shrouded her in a fine, misty magic, and she closed her eyes after a moment of struggle; her knees went slack, and the mist supported her as she collapsed to the deck. No one ran forward to help her; they’d seen it all before. When she regained her hooves, swiveling her head in obvious confusion, he stepped back. “And that is all it is. How do you feel?”

She took a couple breaths. “A little nauseous, actually.”

“That will pass.” He walked past her, past the wheel, to look over the mountain they glided above. “I love these mountains.”

“Does that mean they’ll be dangerous for us?” Rainbow asked.

“Look around you. Do you see anything dangerous?”

“Hypothermia,” Rarity said.

“Nonsense. You have magic and shelter.”

Applejack groaned, and raced to the hatch, shoving Pinkie out of her way.

“She’ll be fine. Some ponies take to the magic better than others.”

“What do you know about Discord, Vanilla?” Big Mac asked.

Vanilla raised his eyebrows. “A bold question, Big Macintosh. Have you not been made aware of the terms of my binding?”

“Ah know ‘em, an’ Ah’m not askin’ ‘bout what he’s doin’ now. We know what he’s doin’ now. Ah wanna know how he was years ago, before this all happened. Why’s he doin’ what he’s doin’?”

“Ah, I see,” Vanilla said, nodding obligingly. “His story is one that has been echoed many times throughout history.”

“Madness?” Rainbow asked.

“Corruption of power.” Vanilla sat down and flashed his horn, arresting the snowflakes where they fell. He picked one out of the air and let it melt on his outstretched hoof. “Discord has been around for so long, he doesn’t even remember much of what he did in the past. He’s not the immortal god figure he says. Much unlike your princesses, he cannot return from death.”

“So what is he?” Rarity asked.

“A fool who discovered chaos magic a long time ago and took it as far as he could. I don’t know much about how magic works for you, but he stretched his to the point where he lost his own being.” Vanilla grabbed another snowflake. “He can’t come back from true death, but killing him is still next to impossible, remember that. Your Elements of Harmony only petrify him. He’s not exactly mortal.”

“But where’d he come from? How’d he get corrupted?” Big Mac asked.

“Simple incompetence. He took rule of your country when it was just forming, and he was freshly exiled from his own home for being too unpredictable with his power. It was an attempt at proving his ability to lead and create a kingdom of his own, and it failed miserably.”

“I seem to recall Twilight telling me that Equestria had hardly even developed cities by the time Celestia and Luna appeared,” Rarity said. She wore nothing, having given her warm clothes to the others. They had perilously little.

“Discord has never been good at ruling. He gets too caught up in details, and the big picture runs away from him.” Vanilla smiled. “Look at me. I can criticize his strategies to his enemies with impunity, because he’s entirely focused on Canterlot.”

“Wait, he’s there now?” Big Mac asked.

“As we speak.”

“Is Canterlot okay?” Rainbow asked.

“That, I cannot tell you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Binding conditions.”

Rainbow groaned. “What about him being the god of chaos?”

“Yes, I thought he was, er, divine,” Rarity said. “Or something.”

“Calling himself the god of chaos was an attempt to save face after driving Equestria into centuries of stagnation. Life is purest when it’s allowed to develop without intervention. That was his mantra.”

“An excuse to not take responsibility.”

“Precisely.”

“The way you say it, he sounds like nothing but another big-headed despot.”

“From what I’ve gathered, that’s exactly what he is.” Vanilla shrugged elaborately. “Not to say that he’s completely clueless. As far as ruining the entire country, he’s done a fine job.”

“Hasn’t stopped us, though,” Rainbow said.

“He has more important things to worry about.”

“How?” Rarity asked.

“Yeah, we’re the architects of his freakin’ destruction,” Rainbow said.

“You are all safely caught up searching for your Elements, far away from him and Canterlot. You’ll be a problem later, but, right now, you’re small concerns. Why else would he entrust you to me?”

“Speakin’ of Canterlot, can you say anythin’ ‘bout what he’s doin’ there?” Big Mac asked.

“I can’t. That violates the terms of my binding. Anything regarding any recent choices of his are off limits.”

“Convenient,” Rainbow said.

“I told you from the beginning,” Vanilla said. “And now, I must go. I’ll be expected to have an audience with my master at his castle in around an hour, and I want some time to have a stroll across the grounds first. Goodbye for now, and give Applejack my condolences for her upset tummy.” He flicked his tail, twitched his ear, smiled wide, and disappeared as the snowflakes resumed their errant downward course.

While Applejack shivered in a bundle of four blankets and Rarity’s scarf, ignoring her magic and manually guiding them through the peaks and valleys, Twilight read Princess Celestia’s letter. Evening was falling.

“Dear Twilight, we have repelled Discord, but at a large cost. The Canterlot Guard is threadbare and exhausted, and, while our borders still stand, many citizens fear for their security. They are not wrong to do so. He will be back, I am sure, though I can’t say until when.”

“This sucks,” Rainbow said.

“Princess Luna has returned and been restored, and will be off again shortly to monitor his progress in raising yet another army. She has been immensely helpful in slowing his progress, and I am beyond grateful for her actions. Meanwhile, I will be away for some time, attending to diplomatic duties in the dragon kingdom. I leave in a few days, after I have seen to my city. I am sorry that you were unable to get your third Element, though I am relieved that you are okay. Please, be cautious in your travels. As you know by now, this is no game. No new Elements have been located, but I have ponies all over Equestria searching. In love and friendship, Princess Celestia.”

“Short and sweet,” Rarity said. “So to speak.”

“At least Canterlot’s okay for the time,” Twilight said, rubbing her head.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Twilight folded the letter once. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

After two hours of sleep, Twilight started awake with Fluttershy’s wings around her in bed, the dark balcony in her whirling mind, sharp with memory. She could hear the soft sounds of retching and coughing from the bathroom, and thought of Octavia, but it was Applejack who returned minutes later.

She closed her eyes again, but no sleep came. The memory of the balcony, and her princess’ letter, filled her head, and no amount of deep breathing or counting bunnies could put her at ease. She eventually slid out of bed and went to the deck. Octavia was packing away her cello, and she gave Twilight a shallow nod.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, turning back for the hatch.

“You are not. I was going to take a walk.”

“Where? It’s below freezing.”

“Movement warms you up.”

Twilight frowned at her as she stowed her cello case down the hatch stairs. “I know that.”

“Come with me, if you want.”

“Again, where?”

“Look.” Octavia went to the side and pointed down the mountain. “There is a path.”

Twilight squinted for a moment in the dim night, not entirely dark for the light reflecting off the cloud-filled sky. A white path traced its way down the mountain from where they were landed, wide and hard and framed with scrags of plants. It bent, unseen, into a path deeper into the stone not far below.

“I am going.”

Twilight trotted to the ramp behind her. “Me too. I could use something to take my mind off things.”

They set hoof on a frigid stone platform ringed with small boulders, enough space between each to admit a narrow view of the mountains beyond. A waning moon cast a pale spot from behind the clouds, and a cold breeze stirred their fur at the pass.

“Is this safe?”

“We are being careful.” Octavia pushed a clawing branch away, where it snapped and fell to the ground. Small gutters of snow filled spaces in the rock, marbling it in shades of steel. They descended slowly, Twilight magically pushing loose shale and gravel off their path and Octavia leading to test the way. They were silent until reaching the bend they had seen from the ship, where all that moved the quiet air was their twin intakes of breath, surprised but not startled.

In an angular crevasse, suspended like a monolithic block of ice, a rusted and blackened fuselage seemed tucked away, shoved back forcefully and left to corrode in the freezing elements. Frost covered milky eyes of windows, and a jagged line of dead searchlights hung from below its bow like dislodged bones. Brittle rigging webbed the space above the ship’s back end, caught on a sharp overhang, small bights glistening like dewdrops on strands of silk. Obscured under a line of black spruce, the open ruin of a turbine watched, propeller blades bent and perforated with rust.

Octavia stepped back and lifted a thin spoke out of the snow, and tossed it aside. “What do you make of this?”

Twilight yawned. “Shipwreck, I guess. I know these mountains are dangerous if you’re not careful, and I think the weather’s supposed to get really bad in the winter. They could have gotten lost in a blizzard.”

“Could there be survivors?”

“I doubt it. Look at it; it’s been here a while.” She took a careful step toward the slumbering wreck.

“We should search anyway, just in case.” Octavia walked to the ship, stepping over a narrow gap in the stone to climb up a slanting ridge. Twilight followed right behind, and the two of them slowly clambered up the side of the crevasse, stopping level to a bent stabilizing fin. The ship’s name was visible in tarnished paint beside it.

Without speaking, Twilight activated first a light spell and then a globe of telekinetic magic to pull at the damaged railing. She set it down quietly on the mountainside, and Octavia crossed the rattling fin alone to meet Twilight, who teleported to the other side.

“I would like to learn how to do that soon,” Octavia said.

“I’m sorry, Octavia, but I don’t think you’re ready. Teleportation is seriously dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Lots of room for mistakes. You can accidentally teleport yourself inside an object, or another pony, or you can injure yourself if you don’t reassemble correctly. And it’s a bad idea to do it on as little sleep as you get. You can give yourself chronic migraines, or worse.”

“How much worse?”

“I’ve never seen it, but I know you can give yourself an aneurysm if you really mess it up.”

“I see.” She crouched to look through a gap in the metal deck.

“I think this was a military ship,” Twilight said quietly. “Normal travel ships aren’t made of metal. Why it’s out here, though, I don’t know.”

“Is there anyone in there?” Octavia called, muzzle to the hole. She flattened an ear to the deck, but only shook her head when she looked up. “Do you see an entrance?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go inside.”

Octavia walked to the back, treading softly around a dark hole of rust, inside which glinted only inert mechanics. She magically lifted a heavy hatch off the deck, its locks falling loudly askew. She rested it on the deck and shone a beam of gray light down on the narrow rungs of a ladder. Not looking back at Twilight, she descended, and Twilight trotted to catch up, muttering under her breath.

Inside, the air was even colder, and she stepped back with a cry as her hoof dipped into a freezing liquid. Octavia’s light disappeared around a corridor corner, and Twilight hastened behind, adding her own magenta light to create a lurid fuchsia between the two intruders.

“Nothing,” Octavia said ahead. She turned around, and Twilight almost collided with her. “There does not appear to be anything here.”

Twilight rounded the corner and cast her light around the shells of doorways and glassy splinters of ice, each glowing with life as her light hit. A star spray of glass covered the ground where overhead lights had blown apart, or simply crumbled from too long in the cold. Octavia pushed the shards away in a gray trough of telekinesis, and entered the nearest room, empty save for a pair of wire bed frames, divested of sheets, pillows, or mattress.

Each room was the same, not a single sign of habitation, not a crumb, not a colorful hair on the floor. The glass had piled into a glittering bank in the corner, beside a larger, undecorated door, and Twilight pushed it open. A metal desk rose from the floor on sharp-angled legs, ending in ribbons of slag, as if welded there. Its surface was clear.

Octavia stayed by the door while Twilight walked to the other side, no longer in fear of falling asleep. Her breath rose in the air, and she could smell the heady tang of metal all around her, dulled and dead in the terminal mountaintop winter.

Angles glinted on the desktop, and she swung her light across a maze of line work, etched into the metal. No shavings winked at her, and the edges, unlike those of the legs on the floor, bore no sign of crafstponyship, as though they had simply sunken into the metal or been pressed in when it was first created. From the way it ran, she assumed it to be lettering, though it was meaningless to her.

“What have you found?” Octavia asked.

“Don’t know.” She ran a hoof over the etchings, and they were smooth at the edges. She swept her magic over the tabletop. “Uh… Octavia?”

Where her magic had touched, the line work remained, a dark magenta filling the tiny trenches. No motion accompanied the surprise, no sound, and even though she removed her magic, it flowed from unconnected line to unconnected line until the entire table was ablaze.

“Get away from it,” Octavia said, stepping over for a closer look.

They stood side by side away from the table, the ceiling alive with a roseate glow. Twilight imagined she felt warmer in the feverish light, but her skin still stung with cold, and her muzzle still felt like a rubber cap on the pinpricked rest of her face.

Outside, something cracked and fell. Heads turning simultaneously, they met only the same darkness down the hall, and there was no motion inside the ship as a second sound followed, sharper and longer.

Octavia took the lead out. As soon as they were through the door, a repeating, reverberating thump filled their ears, like the pulse of a giant, soft organ outside. Snow and gravel shuffled, and missed pieces of glass twinkled on the floor. Around the corner, they paused again at the sound of clicking and clunking machinery behind the wall. Something metal scraped the rocks outside, and they both froze as the first tremors crept up their legs.

The ladder was not tilted at an angle that allowed them easy passage, and they climbed out haltingly as the ship shivered under their hooves, sometimes seeming almost to swing out, only to fall back in to a softer tremble. The pulse-groan was not insistent, but it thrummed and stomped in their ears as they passed the upper threshold to scramble to the deck, and it was there that they saw what Twilight had awoken.

On the side nearest the mountain, from which they had entered, a long sickle descended in a graceful arc, its speed disembodying it at first from the ship. With a terrific clang of metal and stone, sparks jumped up and froze a gray and white edifice against the growing metal one. Steel bent and crumpled along the edges of a wide swath of pressed sheet metal, widening at the mid point to end in a rude, blunt edge that rested askew across broken rocks before sliding, grinding, and lifting away again, sheering the air and turning in a lopsided circuit to cleave a tree in two.

“What is this?” Octavia asked, but Twilight did not respond. The sight of it, dark and heavy against the scattered snow, set her tired mind distant from herself, and there, memories surfaced.

With a slash of rent ice and stone, the marble banister clattered away. The rosy memory of the tabletop, a harsh smear of blood. The cold, adrenaline.

“Damn it, Twilight, do not do this now!” Octavia snapped. A hoof shoved her to the side, and she whirled, her horn ready and her magic already flowing. It was her friend, it was someone else. She did not pause. “No, wait.” Magic leapt out of her horn as if irresistibly attracted to the empty air, and the stout, gray pony bore it to her chest with a sharp sigh. She hit the rail, and Twilight ran to her.

Octavia pushed herself up and let Twilight stop before her. Octavia raised her hoof, and sharp pain rent her head around, her eyes watering. “Stop. Snap out of it.”

Twilight shook her head, and the mountain crashed again. The shape of the valley would funnel the sound directly to their own ship, and she could not imagine her friends sleeping through the paroxysmal din.

Octavia made for the stabilizing fin, stumbling as the large wing came down again, and Twilight stopped her. She went to her side at the edge, and, hooves entwined, teleported them both several meters off to land on a safe section of mountainside.

They rested there for a second. “I am not angry that you attacked me. I should not have shoved you,” Octavia said.

Twilight just nodded. The ship was no vessel she had seen before. Unfolded from it like the fins of a great fish, metal scythes, or wings, moved. Some hung uselessly from the side they could not see earlier, some lay in sharp-jointed snarls underneath the machine, and one more tried to flap with its neighbor on the exposed side, grazing uselessly against rock and shredding ice chips into the air.

“What in Celestia’s name is this?”

“I have no idea,” Twilight said. “Not something I’ve ever read about.”

“It reminds me of the Astra Crow.”

“Huh.” Twilight remembered the Astra Crow, the fifteen-foot colossus of smoking metal and twin furnaces buried in its chest. She remembered Octavia riding it to the Vineyard to evacuate before Thunderhead could attack. She remembered standing with the others, stunned and useless, as it happened.

“Do we leave it, or try to deactivate it, or… what do we do, Twilight?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Think.”

Twilight looked at the struggling machine, her head reeling. The slap stung, and the guilt she was familiar with was already creeping in, saturating her thoughts. Her own voice, scolding: “You say you’re getting better, then you pull a stunt like that?” “She just tried to help, and you almost threw her off the ship.” “Perfect flashback timing, as usual.”

“Twilight?”

“I’m thinking!” Twilight shouted.

“We cannot let it stay here.”

“I know that, Octavia.” She closed her eyes. “I freaking know that.”

“What do we do?”

Twilight turned. Octavia’s inquisitive, unfaltering eyes looked right into her own, and she huffed an angry cloud. “I said I don’t know. How can I be expected to fix this when I don’t even have my books?” She stomped toward the ship, still flailing, its racket forgotten.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up, Octavia.” She stepped over a patch of ice, and watched the ship’s wing come down once more into a thicket of frozen underbrush. “Shut up and let me think.” In her head, her thoughts took on Octavia’s voice. “Determination, Twilight.” She grit her teeth and shoved past a bush, its twigs tugging at her coat.

“Twilight!”

She stepped out to a wide overhang and observed the ship from across a steep gully. Rocks rolled out of sight, dislodged from where she stood; the vibrations with each impact went up her legs each time, and she fixed her eyes on the injured ship. A headache pounded quietly in the back of her skull.

Horn alight again, she conjured a battering ram of magic to press into the ship’s side. With a screech of metal and a throb at the base of her horn, she tilted the machine up. Rocks skittered underneath, and snow followed in white trails, and then the ship got away, pushed by its own dumb wings to slide down with a slow grind, chased by boulders. A wing caught and hung for a moment before bending away, and the ship resumed its passage, banging and careening down until it was but a loud crack at the unseen bottom of the chasm.

She stood and looked into the quiet vanishing point. Rocks clattered still, and the wind blew. When Octavia rejoined her, she didn’t speak, and the two of them found their path back up. Twilight’s head pulsed and ached like a swollen melon, and her eyes stung with cold and sleeplessness.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Twilight said. “I wasn’t all there.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will want Fluttershy to look at me when we get back, but I will survive.”