Applejack landed them, again without touching the wheel, on a lot dense with other airships. The entire area was bathed in sharp, warm light, an island in an ocean of even greater lights and the tumult of thousands of walking, talking tourists.

The Apogee was a flat rectangle that stood auspiciously apart from other smaller hotels, a gloomy obelisk with its straight-lettered name bathing its top half in dark blue. The Bright Road was one easy walk away from its front doors, themselves behind a tile courtyard of Luna’s cutie mark, a fountain with silver, glittering water inside her moon’s crescent.

From the courtyard entrance, hemmed with towering shrubs of cantering royal guards, and lined within with sleek, black cars and ornate carriages, they could see only a half mile wedge of The Bright Road, and Octavia had to prod them to keep them moving. Only she and Whooves had ever seen so much electricity concentrated in one place. Signs and advertisements, many in motion, glowed with every color in the spectrum, nearly all of them advertising food, drinks, shows, or all three. On a squat dive bar, a grinning neon pony lounged in a martini glass, while an acid yellow and green sandwich endlessly ate and then restored itself just next door. Crowds of ponies, many just as young as the Elements, stomped down the sidewalks, shouting, cheering, and clamoring to be heard over everyone else. Some danced, some galloped freely, some stopped in front of shabby-looking performers contributing their own brand of improvised music to the mess of activity.

“In, in,” Octavia said. “We can explore later. We are in everyone’s way right now.”

The Apogee was a soothing refuge from the hurrying city outside. Soft blue and white light mingled in a dark carpeted vestibule, while chandeliers, stylized to resemble armillary spheres, painted giant dots all across the lobby. They checked in with Celestia’s treasury slip, getting three rooms, on different floors and far from one another. There had been no reservations made, so it was the best they could do, the concierge explained, even after Rainbow reminded her who they all were.

In the elevator, shared with a single, elderly pony who smelled of tobacco, they silently climbed to the highest room: the Elements of Harmony Suite, reserved for only the highest paying guests. After their humiliation outside Discord’s castle, Twilight had figured they deserved something nice, and no one had objected.

Their room was more than nice. For the second time, they could only stand in the doorway and stare while Octavia waited for them to come to their senses. Two king beds, blankets emblazoned with cutie marks they did not immediately recognize, stood on the far side of a forty-two inch TV, which stood atop a cabinet of dark blue wood, tiny stars sparkling in silver all across its surfaces. A life-sized painting of six ponies stood between the beds, but they did not see themselves in the picture.

The walk-in shower was tiled with another cutie mark, and each bottle of shampoo, lotion, and soap was stamped with Luna’s moon. There was a balcony outside, eleven stories off the ground, where three ponies could sit and look to the stars, or to The Bright Road. Proud palm saplings were there to offer shade for the daytime, and lank shadows in the night; their pots were carved and shellacked with yet another unfamiliar cutie mark.

“So that’s five Elements,” Applejack said, spinning in the room, jaw slack. “Where’s the sixth?”

“Here,” Whooves said, turning off the light. They all gasped, and Fluttershy cheered. Through the glass doors to the balcony, starlight and electric light streamed in, catching an unseen pattern in the glass and throwing a spectral ice cream cone onto the carpet.

“These are earlier Elements,” Twilight said. “I knew I recognized these. They’re from the ponies who had them before we did.”

“Why is there a room themed on the Elements of Harmony?” Rainbow asked. “Not that I’m saying it isn’t totally sweet, but why?”

“I can only imagine it sells fantastically,” Rarity said, sitting on a bed and bouncing experimentally. “Absolutely divine. Is this common to Applewood?”

“You tell me,” Octavia said, levitating a bottle of beer from the mini fridge. On it posed an orange earth pony with a blonde mane, slightly different from Applejack, but obviously intended to resemble her.

“Yer kiddin’,” Big Mac said, plucking it out of the air. “Sis, it’s yer spittin’ image.”

“It is something you will need to get used to here,” Octavia said. “I had forgotten about it, myself. I apologize. I could have told you to brace yourselves for the shock.”

“This is crazy,” Rainbow said, out on the balcony. “Look! Is—is that me?”

They rushed outside to see where Rainbow pointed: a polychromatic tail hanging off a darker blue pegasus, smiling while the words “loose slots, fast drinks” coruscated below.

“Do not fall for advertisements like that,” Octavia said. “Gambling is the fastest and least satisfying way to lose money here. If you insist on wasting bits, go out for a show, or go drinking. Even a club is better.”

“Are you on anything here, sis?” Pinkie asked.

“I doubt it. I never rose to your levels of fame. Not even close.”

“I’m sure we could find you in a record store or something,” Whooves said. “Surely there is some manner of respite in this cultural wasteland, where one might happen upon that lovely, stern face of yours.”

Octavia gave a tiny smile and turned away.

The other rooms were beautiful, but less so, and they ended with an argument over who would take which. Twilight, Rarity, and Applejack took the Elements of Harmony Suite, while Rainbow, Fluttershy, and Octavia got the Ecliptic Suite on the sixth floor, and Whooves, Pinkie, and Big Mac took the second floor Moon Suite. While they sorted their bags into the appropriate rooms, and Octavia set to tuning and inspecting her cello in Twilight’s room, the town outside quieted and cooled by degrees.

They had been in their hotel for only an hour, and most everyone was in the Elements of Harmony Suite, still marveling and playing with the amenities. Rainbow was in her own room, trying to fold a towel with a weak attempt at telekinesis, when Fluttershy came up behind. “I think you need to see this.” She flourished a pair of letters. “They materialized on the bed, just now.”

Rainbow frowned. “Like, this instant?”

“I think it’s a bad sign.”

Rainbow grabbed the letter and read aloud. “Dearest Elements, consider this a wake-up call. I write this mere hours after kicking you off my lawn, so to speak.”

“It has to be Discord.”

“You’ve spent plenty of time up north, within yelling distance of Canterlot. No more.” Rainbow looked up briefly, then continued. “While your princesses have been doing plenty to keep things neat and tidy on the north side, they can’t pay the same attention to the south. So, let me officially welcome you to Applewood. Enclosed, you will find documentation of what I say here: the Equestrian south belongs to me, and this city most specifically. Don’t get comfortable.” She put the letter on the mattress, and Fluttershy looked at it.

“We need to show Twilight.”

“Holy crap,” Rainbow mumbled. “He’s not joking.” She turned over the second paper, a contract. They spread it on the mattress and read. Dated from only a month after the disaster, it was between Discord—his signature contained within a scalene triangle cuspate to the two D’s in his name—and the owner of Applewood’s hydroelectric dam, a stallion by the name of Pure Waterfall. In it, Discord promised to make unspecified enchantments to the dam, its reservoirs, and four miles of river behind it, ensuring its immediate recovery from the disaster and allowing power to return to Applewood in full before any other city. In return, an equally unspecific term was accepted: control over key systems, to be ceded in “times of need.”

“He can’t have actually agreed to this,” Fluttershy said.

Rainbow only nodded, thinking. “But to restore power only a month after everything went to Tartarus? He might.”

“It can’t possibly be worth it.”

Rainbow looked pointedly at the window. They had a full view of The Bright Road, its spangled conflagration bursting with tourists, and money. “Looks worth it to me. This city has hardly changed.”

“In exchange for giving him control over the dam?”

“I would.”

Fluttershy gasped.

“If I was responsible for the power to the biggest city in Equestria, I think I’d do it. I’d look for ways out as soon as I got things up and running, but I’d do it at first.” She shook the contract and let it float to the ground. “That rat bastard. He knew he didn’t have to give fair conditions. He had this city cornered from the start.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t we hear about this?”

“I have no idea,” Fluttershy said. She turned the contract over, showing a single word, written in a clumsy hand. POOF.

As soon as their eyes scanned the word, both papers vanished in ribbons of smoke, and they looked at each other. Someone was knocking, and Rainbow got up to admit Whooves, behind which came everyone else.

“We are going out,” Octavia said.

“We? Who’s we?” Rainbow asked.

“All of us,” Twilight said. “Even me.”

“This place is too awesome to ignore!” Pinkie cried, hopping up and down behind them. “Even if we have planning and stuff to do, it can wait ‘til tomorrow! Tomorrow’s not far off as it is!”

“What say you, ladies?” Whooves asked. “A night on the town? It would do us all good, I say.”

“Maybe,” Rainbow said. “But first, Twilight, we have to tell you something.”

“Um, no, thank you,” Fluttershy said. “That is, no, we’ll just stay in. I’m feeling kind of tired.”

“What do you need to tell me?” Twilight asked.

Rainbow glanced at Fluttershy, understanding the look she was giving her. “You know what? It can wait. You girls have fun out there.”

“You’re staying behind too?” Rarity asked.

“Like Fluttershy said, we’re tired,” Rainbow said, faking a yawn. “Tell us how it is tomorrow, will ya?”

“You are missing a lot of fun,” Octavia said. “But I understand.”

“Come along, ponies! The city calls!” Whooves said, charging down the hall.

As soon as they were gone, Fluttershy closed the door, went to the complimentary coffee press, and started making a batch. Rainbow sat down.

“I’m sorry, Rainbow, but I really don’t want to explain everything to her, especially with everyone else there. With the letter too, it would be too much.”

“That’s kinda what I thought,” Rainbow said. “What do you want to do?”

“How tired are you actually?”

“I can go for a while.”

“Good. We have to get a plan, and fast. I doubt Discord’s exaggerating, which means we could have as little as twenty-four hours to figure this out.”

Rainbow looked wistfully at the window, then got up and shut the curtains. “Good thinking, Shy. I’m gonna need that coffee.”

No one spoke at first, not that they would be able to hear one another. They walked as a speechless crowd with the surging masses, past blinking bars, glowing restaurants, and shops to sell commodities and souvenirs. The night sky was a rosy bowl admitting only the brightest stars, and the streets were rivers of honking cars and impatient ponies in carriage harnesses. When stoplights turned, hundreds of ponies crossed the streets at once.

The Apogee disappeared behind them as they made their way up The Bright Road, following Big Mac and Whooves as they parted the crowd, heads swinging to take in the overload of sights. Despite the apparent congestion, they found it easy to move just as quickly as the ponies that surrounded them, and they soon found themselves abreast of two tall stanchions, decorated with spirals of tapering light as if painted with thin rays of sunshine. A bridge, as wide and densely populated as the street that connected to it, spanned fifty yards to another section of The Bright Road. There hung overhead a sign that read “Windy Walk.” Slats were cut into the guardrails, tall as some of the buildings before them, through which they could see only more city, slightly offset by the ground’s sectioning.

They could not even tell they were suspended over nothing. The thunder of countless hooves caused no vibrations, and the wind, funneled through the long canyon of air between city segments, caused no swaying that they could feel. At Big Mac’s behest, they stopped and entered a fat building, its sign a garish red dollop of ice cream on an ecstatic pony’s snout.

The cold, white marble was a shock from the warm macadam outside, and they, again, took a moment to blink in stupefaction in the threshold. Colorful glass cylinders reached halfway to the roof like alchemical decanters behind a polished counter, and a pair of attractive, corseted mares tended to a line that nearly reached the door. Beyond, the marble floor curved away and became dark brown tile, on which they could see the dim reflections of overhead lights, torn by yet more marching hooves.

Pinkie, her silence finally broken by the sight of something familiar, hopped into line, babbling to the others to join, and then about what they were in line for when they did. Twilight looked around, nervousness and fascination combining into wary observation that hardly left room for Pinkie’s monologue.

When they finally reached the front, Twilight took a second to scan the list of flavors, and found, with a start, that everything contained alcohol. In that same moment, she glanced at the mare making Pinkie’s order, and, for two bits extra, she added a second shot of something to the mix.

Twilight was so stunned that she didn’t even think about what she ordered or agreed to, and left the line holding a banana yellow smoothie with two shots of rum in it, which Whooves eyed intently over his own tangerine.

“Well, go on, Twilight!” Applejack said, laughing. “Tell us how yer first sip of alcohol is.”

“Your first?” Whooves echoed. Then, looking to Applejack, he asked, “what flavor is that?”

“Blue raspberry.”

“Not green apple?”

“Ah can like other flavors, doc.”

Twilight put her lips to the straw in her drink, sipping lightly, then stronger to pull the thick liquid up to herself. She tossed it in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing and taking more.

“Good?” Rarity asked. Hers, a pastel pink, was already one third drained.

“Actually, yes,” Twilight said. “I thought it was supposed to burn, like how Fluttershy’s did.”

Whooves stared at her, wide-eyed, a laughing smile on his face.

“Isopropyl, Doctor.” She took a bigger drink. “This is nothing like that.”

“I should hope not, my dear!” he cried, playfully bumping her flank with his own. “That stuff is monstrous, not fit for equine consumption in the slightest! This, however, is the nectar of the goddesses. I would not be at all surprised to see Princess Celestia patronizing an establishment of this kind. Er, in different times, I suppose.”

“Please, dear, she’s far too busy,” Rarity intoned.

“What’s down there?” Big Mac asked, pointing to the rest of the building.

They walked, their drinks secured in small neck harnesses, down a long corridor and to an aisle of clothing and accessory stores. Rarity gasped and trotted to the nearest window, before turning back, disappointed. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, I can tell already.” She finished another quarter of her drink in a few seconds. “Now that looks like something else.” She moved past them to a shop across from them, and Twilight looked at Octavia, who had not ordered anything.

“Large groups of ponies tend to want to split up from time to time when they are here,” Octavia said. “It is natural.”

They looked over at a flash of red, and saw Big Mac going after Rarity, calling something that they could not hear.

“That glamour really did a number on him, didn’t it?” Whooves asked. “How do you suppose he knows which one to go with? Us or her?”

“I’m not leaving her behind,” Twilight said. “Come on.” She lowered her voice, and her head to take another long drink of her smoothie. “Remember who we are, and who watches us. We can’t be one hundred percent safe here.”

After an hour of browsing and trying on different outfits, and eventually purchasing some, they left and returned to the street, where they crossed the bridge and, following the crowd along an off-shooting sidewalk, entered into The Observatory, a squat, domed hotel with climbing purple and pink lights all along its ribbed sides. Inside, they were again stunned by a wave of noise and images. The Apogee too had a casino on the first floor, but the entrance they chose had allowed them to skirt it and go directly to their rooms.

The floor was checkered mostly with shades of blue, but an occasional white tile, making it resemble a lurid kind of night sky, while a circular skylight above, built into a titanic fresco of Princess Celestia, allowed for a brief respite from the dizzying sights. An army of slot machines faced them, many with ponies sitting at them, their spinning wheels blurring in their overwhelmed eyes to become meaningless spits of color on shifting white teeth. Electric bells chimed, lights flashed all around, and the sound of bits clinking on metal trays was everywhere. Throughout, neatly dressed unicorns moved with drink trays levitated well above their heads.

“This is what I was talking about,” Octavia said, guiding them along a carpeted path around the slot machines. “A total waste of time and money.”

“Surely there’s more than just these?” Pinkie asked.

“Of course. There are other games to play. Some even require skill.”

They passed through a smaller area of roulette and blackjack tables, past an alcove of quiet ponies playing cards, which held Applejack’s interest for a few minutes, and went up a set of stairs to come out above the street on a thinner bridge, which would connect them, as Octavia pointed out, to the Enchanted Wood. The entire building was painted and textured to resemble a gnarled tree, and they could see individual room lights glowing from within tremendous leaves twenty stories up.

“I am looking for a bar that I used to attend,” Octavia explained as they walked toward the door. They passed a homeless pony half-dozing beside a crate of water bottles: one bit, one bottle. Pinkie obliged him.

The Enchanted Wood, though interesting on the outside, bore no difference from the shopping centers they had briefly seen in Apogee, and it was a short walk before they were back on the street, following Octavia to a dark, wood-paneled bar call The Moon Shot. She stopped a moment, as if examining her memory, and then led them in.

Music was playing, but it was drowned in the patrons’ tumult. There were only a few scattered seats open at the bar, so they were obliged to take a booth near the back, and an extra table placed beside. Everyone’s drinks were finished, and Twilight, though she said nothing, was feeling hers. The slowness of inebriation was not something with which she was comfortable, though she had read accounts of it before, and experienced magic to produce a similar effect.

The only other pony who appeared to be affected was Rarity, who slouched next to Whooves, who seemed more than a little happy to take advantage of the close quarters, and had leaned to offer himself as a comfortable place for her to rest.

The waiter appeared and got drink orders, and Twilight, again not thinking, absentmindedly ordered a Manehattan—the first drink name to spring to her lips.

“Yer really goin’ fer it tonight, Twi,” Applejack said. “You just be sure to pace yerself, ya hear?”

“I didn’t even mean to get anything,” Twilight said softly, looking around.

“Pardon?”

“I said I didn’t mean to get anything!” She leaned across the table, and Applejack did the same. “This city is too much! I feel totally overwhelmed, and I’m not thinking!”

“Ya gonna be okay?”

“Yes, I think so. It’s not that kind of overwhelmed—thanks for asking, though, really.” She looked at Whooves, who was leaning to hear them as well. “It’s just weird.”

“I think it’s enchanting,” Rarity said, sitting up to watch a tray of drinks go past them to a different table. “I’ve always wanted to see this, and now I am! In the flesh, Twilight!”

“You put that smoothie of yers away right quick, huh?” Applejack said, poking her.

“A lady is entitled to… to… how do you say it? Oh, put one away, every now and again.”

“It has been quite a road,” Octavia said, nodding graciously as their drinks arrived, hers a thick, brown glass with no garnish. She sipped it without a smile.

“What is that?” Big Mac asked.

“This is Deep Underground, neat. It is a brand of whiskey. One of my orchestra-mates taught me to enjoy it.”

Twilight gagged and sputtered as she sipped her Manehattan, and Applejack laughed.

“Er, yes, if I could just expand upon what Miss Octavia has said,” Whooves said. “It has been rather a tough experience for us all.” He paused, and Rarity frowned at him. “Castles, traps, tricks, and nature itself set against us, and yet, we prevail! Tomorrow, we rally around our new Element, but, tonight, we celebrate.”

“Hear, hear,” Applejack said, nudging her glass with a hoof—the earth pony manner of toasting.

Octavia took another drink of her whiskey; the last thing Twilight saw before the lights went out was her impeccably straight face wrinkling a fraction at the alcohol’s potency.

She was aware of the volume first. Music cut out, and every bar patrons’ conversations were momentarily suspended in loud nothing before dropping into a chorus of groans and questions. Light still came in from the window, but it was diminished by distance. Twilight could see bars and hotels far off that were still alight, but everything she could immediately see had died.

The crowd outside had frozen as well, caught in the blackout as if not one of them had ever seen its like before. The neon signs were defunct coils on walls, the pictures of entertained ponies reduced to ghostly visages with leering mockeries of faces. In the space of a second, every building had turned to a tombstone.

In The Moon Shot’s soft chaos, Twilight discerned someone calling for everyone to be quiet. Her voice was thin, and the shout sounded like an exertion she was not used to.

And then, light returned. From somewhere in the crowd, a cone of light spattered their shadows against the walls and fanned the ceiling as its bearer got up from her seat. Twilight could only catch a glimpse of mane as the pony moved, bringing the light with her. It toggled unevenly as she walked to the door, where she stopped. In her movement, everyone had quieted, and she looked at them all for a moment before telling them to prepare themselves a second time. The light turned and widened, and the bar was suddenly bathed in an unnatural simulacrum of day.

Twilight stared as everyone else cheered. The light was soft and evenly distributed, two signs of a pony with considerable skill with the spell. She lowered her head and sipped her drink again, keeping a straight face with some effort and a clenched jaw.

“Barkeep, what’s the spread on that circuit-breaker?” Twilight heard her ask, and someone replied that it was more than the bar that had gone out. The mare turned to look out the door, her light not shifting.

“I recognize that pony,” Octavia said. “She goes by DJ Pon-three. I have forgotten her actual name.”

“Sounds familiar,” Pinkie slurred. Her drink, a cotton candy-pink liquid in a martini glass, was already finished.

“She’s really good with a light spell,” Twilight said. She took another sip of her Manehattan and gagged again. “Who wants this?”

“I will take it,” Octavia said. After a second of shifting her eyes, she drew it to her telepathically. “I like these as well.”

“Don’t get too drunk, Miss Octavia,” Big Mac said.

“I know my limits.”

Despite the strange mare’s light, the crowd was not long in staying. Some ponies finished their drinks before leaving, and many did not. Where only minutes ago the wait staff had moved with drink trays, they moved instead with checks. Twilight paid when they were finished, and they followed a group of grumbling stallions outside. DJ Pon-three remained, though she had dimmed her light, and was speaking closely to the manager. Outside, movement had resumed, and no one seemed much to mind the blackout. They could see that it was contained to a couple blocks, and many ponies seemed content to simply walk through and find new places to entertain themselves.

“Where next?” Twilight asked after a moment. The darkness puzzled her, and she wanted to think about it, but found that she could not. “I think I’m what Rainbow Dash calls ‘buzzed.’ Or maybe drunk. Does it happen that easily for beginners?”

“It does, yes. You did not order beginners’ drinks, either,” Octavia said. She looked around. “There is something in every direction. Personally, I am hungry.”

“Yes! Food!” Pinkie shouted. “This fluffy body needs fuel!” She charged ahead for a second before doubling back and hopping over to them, crying a mixture of encouragement and directions that Twilight was not sure she would have understood even if she were in her right mind.

They half walked, half trotted, along The Bright Road, putting more distance between them and the Apogee. All music had faded with the light, and the only sounds that remained were the ponies’ conversations themselves, strangely empty with no accompanying noise. Cars honked and carriage ponies shouted at intersections, where traffic lights had winked out, and wandering drunkards were suddenly more noticeable, looking at the dark buildings as though they had been transported to another city entirely.

The nearest hotel was Sky Kiss, a light gray ribbon with its name in slender cursive on a glowing archway before its main entrance, made to look like the golden grilles of heaven, or Canterlot Palace.

Before they could get close, though, the hotel flickered and went out.

“The heck is goin’ on?” Applejack asked.

“It’s some kind of bizarrely slow rolling blackout,” Whooves said, turning a lazy circle. “I’m not sure what to—hey! The Moon Shot’s back!”

They turned to see. The bar, completely dead five minutes ago, had regained its lights, and they could even hear its music bleeding into the emptied street. Around it, too, businesses had come back to life, and customers were trickling back, though the mare and her light were absent. Near them, everything was still dark.

They kept moving, and, when they reached Sky Kiss, ponies were milling about the courtyard in a confused mob. From snippets of conversation, they were able to ascertain that it was not just the lights that had gone out. Televisions and radios had blinked off, refrigerators had stopped humming, irons had started cooling on ironing boards. All the electricity, it seemed, had been cut off at once.

“We will not want to stop here,” Octavia said. “Onwards.”

“What’s that one?” Pinkie asked, pointing to an awkwardly shaped building, something between a split stalk of wheat and a bell. Crimson ribs of delicate metal bloomed out in a rough-edged dome over a thick, white building.

“That is The Core.”

“Oh, Ah get it,” Applejack said. “Shaped like an apple core.”

“You think you’re gonna see much of yourself in this one, pard?” Whooves asked.

“Ah think yer not gonna be seein’ much of anythin’ if you keep callin’ me that, pard.”

Whooves guffawed as they walked in the direction of The Core, but, as they did so, they never once stepped into light. As they moved, buildings dimmed and went out, and waves of displeased voices followed them everywhere. By the time they reached the small, apple-themed hotel, it too had lost its light, and a pool of confused, sleepy ponies was filling the courtyard and lawn. Behind, Sky Kiss was returning to its previous state. Lights were climbing back up its sides, and they could hear the crowd they had left there fading as it dispersed.

“This is really weird,” Rarity said. She still appeared drunk, but less so; they had been walking for nearly half an hour.

“I have an idea,” Twilight said. “Or, rather, I think I have an idea. Hang on just a sec.” She lit her horn, and they stood in her magenta glow in silence before she dimmed it and shook her head in obvious frustration.

“What is it?” Big Mac asked.

“I can’t cast magic like this!” She shook her head a second time. “Stupid, Twilight, stupid. I should have known this would happen.” Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about this!”

“Calm down, Twi,” Applejack said. “You just gave me an actual idea, though.” She walked to a light pole and balanced herself into a standing position.

“What are you doing?” Octavia asked.

“Just hold on,” Applejack whispered. She had her eyes closed, and, after a second, her intentions became clear as the light pulsed once, and then went back out.

“You can’t possibly hope to restore power to the entire block,” Rarity said, going to her and offering herself as a support for Applejack to get down safely. She leaned too far into the pole and overbalanced, nearly falling herself, as Applejack tried again. The light glowed again, held for nearly five seconds, and then dimmed.

“It’s too much for one pony,” Whooves said. “I dare say, even the princess herself couldn’t restore this much power on her own.”

“Yes she could,” Twilight said. “Easily, and for days.”

“It ain’t just that, though,” Applejack said. “There’s somethin’ goin’ on with it.” She looked around at the nearby ponies, many of whom had stopped to look or listen. “Uh, let’s keep goin’. Still gotta find somethin’ to eat.”

They headed back in the direction of The Moon Shot, and Applejack kept her voice down as she explained.

“Controllin’ the ship with magic was actually pretty easy once Ah got used to it. It’s sorta like meditatin’. Least that’s what Big Mac said it’s like when Ah told him.”

“You meditate?” Pinkie asked.

“Used to. Not much time anymore,” Big Mac said with a halfhearted shrug.

“This weren’t like that, though, not at all,” Applejack said. “Felt like there was somethin’ there resistin’ me, somethin’ Ah had to push against to get that light to go on. Maybe like someone else already had a hold of it.”

“Hey! There it goes again!” Pinkie yelled. The Moon Shot had again darkened, and another, smaller, angry cry was rising up from its seats.

“Stop,” Whooves said. “A thought just came to me.” He put a hoof to Pinkie’s chest to keep her from moving forward, and she stumbled with a loud giggle. “Everyone move back. Keep your eyes on that bar.”

Doubtfully, they walked back, getting as far as the street corner before stopping again. A soft glow came from within The Moon Shot, and after some minutes, it had returned to its full brilliance, along with some of its neighbors. The patrons waited outside, no one moving with any decisiveness.

“And now forward,” Whooves said. “Slowly.”

They crossed the street and got perhaps a hundred feet away before The Moon Shot went out again. No one in the crowds seemed disappointed.

“It’s us,” he said. “It’s… here, look. Sky Kiss is up again too. Look!”

They looked around, following his own turning, guiding hoof. All around them, the shops and bars were lightless, but after a point, everything was fine.

“It’s us. This slow, crawling blackout is following us.”

“Is that possible?” Octavia asked, looking at Twilight intensely.

Twilight only shook her head, taking a moment to find her words. “Yeah, it’s possible, but… hard.” She looked up. “We can still see by the stars, and that’s really weird.”

“What is the significance of that?”

“Well, my first thought was that we have a pillar of darkness following us, but we can still see by light that enters from afar. It’s not dampening everything, just… I guess, the electricity? Some kind of electrical spell? That would explain your difficulties, AJ.”

“Might it be a dome, and not a pillar?” Whooves asked.

“Domes are harder,” Octavia said. “Actually, they are—this is not the place for this conversation.” She shook her head lightly, eyes wide in disbelief that she had nearly given a lecture on magic.

“Can you break it?” Pinkie asked.

“Heck no,” Twilight blurted, a little louder than she had intended. “Maybe if I haven’t been drinking, but… shoot, I had, what, two drinks tonight? Girls, I think I’m drunk. I… I think—”

“Back to the hotel,” Applejack said. “We need to meet the others and figure this out somewhere safe.” She looked at Twilight. “An’ we’ll get you nice an’ sobered up.”

“Figures, the one time we actually need an expert magician, we encourage ours to get toasted,” Rarity said.

“Everypony, be quiet,” Octavia said. “We cannot let passers-by know what we think is going on. We will be very much unwelcome wherever we go if they realize what we are bringing with us.”

From the balcony of the Apogee, which had experienced a blackout nearly an hour ago, Fluttershy and Rainbow were able to see their friends’ approach with complete clarity, though they did not know that it was their friends that they were watching. From their perspective, the rolling darkness appeared even stranger, but still just as without cause as it did for those on the ground. A small dot of unicorn light marched back and forth inside the circular blackout, popping out from behind buildings like a tiny target in a bizarre carnival game.

“So, how much are we gonna tell them?” Rainbow asked.

“I hate that question,” Fluttershy said. Her voice was still feather quiet, but she did not stutter. It was her own brand of confidence that nearly only came out when she was alone with Rainbow. “As little as possible, though. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to explain… everything. Especially with Doctor Whooves around.”

“I’m sure we could chase him out for an hour or something.” She flapped her wings. “Uh, but if you’re uncomfortable with just explaining in general, I guess we can keep it a secret. Or, you know, parts.”

“They’re going to wonder where we’re going, at least.”

“Drinking?” Rainbow offered.

“I don’t drink, at least, not in the daytime. It’s uncouth.”

Rainbow laughed a little in spite of herself. “Okay, Rarity.”

“They know I have a friend here. I can say we’re meeting him.”

“Why am I coming along?”

“Because he’s mutual.”

Rainbow nodded.

“It’s not going to hold up,” Fluttershy said quickly. “No, I just realized, I’m being foolish. The minute we figure out what has to be done, there’s going to be no way to explain myself without just telling the truth. They’re not going to want to do… whatever it is we have to do to that dam just on my word alone.”

“I think they’ll trust you.”

“I don’t want to put them in that position, though. They shouldn’t need to have blind faith with me.” She adjusted her position in her chair to better see the moving blackout below. “I’m a horrible pony.”

“What? Whoa, where’s that coming from?”

“I’m keeping secrets from my best friends, and not for any benefit. I’m just afraid to relive something.”

“Well, yeah, but we all have… you know, tough things we don’t wanna look at.”

“It’s selfish of me to want to keep them all in the dark about these things.”

“Heh, okay, Octavia.”

“Seriously, Rainbow.”

Rainbow sighed and scooted her chair closer. “Okay, look. I think it’s totally reasonable that you should keep some of this. It’s personal, it’s not really their business, even if they are your best friends. If it’s not affecting them, then what’s the harm of keeping it to yourself, anyway?”

“But the questions. They’ll have so many questions.”

“What questions do you think they’ll ask?”

“Where are we going, for one. How I know that we need to do… whatever, to the CEO, or the dam. And if I choose to tell them about Discord’s letter, and the contract, then they’ll try to help, and I’ll be forced to tell them why we already have a lot of it under control. And that… that is what worries me.” Her eyes watered, but she kept her voice strong. “I don’t want to relive it, Rainbow.”

“Would simply telling them really be reliving it?”

“It would for me.” She looked at Rainbow’s eyes, and smiled knowingly. “I just had an idea, and I don’t know if you just had it too.”

“Uh, probably not. I haven’t had any bright ideas about this yet.” She cracked a grin of her own. “You’re the smart one here, and you know it.”

“If you tell them, please make them swear not to talk to me about it, and don’t let me know yourself. If they know, I want to be ignorant of that. Okay?”

“Aw, geez, Fluttershy, I can’t keep that kind of thing from you. You’d spot it in me in a second anyway; you know I’m no good at lying to you.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“That blackout’s getting closer.” She leaned out and squinted at the dot of light moving around. “Who the heck is that?”

Apogee was already out as they approached. Their darkness merged with the extant funnel half a block before the front entrance, and they exchanged worried looks of understanding. Many ponies were still outside, but it was clear that there were fewer than at the other hotels. The lights had been out much longer, Whooves said; it made sense that a lot of residents would return to their rooms to wait it out.

They found Rainbow and Fluttershy where they had left them, and explained what they had discovered while Twilight lay on the bed and sipped at a glass of tap water, trying to clear her head.

“He wasn’t joking,” Rainbow said. “Discord really does mean business here.”

“Huh?” Twilight said.

“We need to get out of here,” Fluttershy said. “That’s what she means. Um, and what I mean is that this is Discord’s doing; we probably shouldn’t stay.”

“But we just checked in! Surely with a little explanation and, er, financial assistance from the diarchy, we can get the manager to let us remain here,” Whooves said.

“Yer suggestin’ we bribe the manager to let us stay here, when we’re the cause of this blackout,” Applejack said.

“Well, ‘bribe’ is a strong word. I would say more ‘persuade’ or ‘entice,’ my dear.”

“No, I think we need to go,” Fluttershy said. “You said the lights will come on again if we get far enough away, Twilight?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Twilight said softly. “Like a block or two should do it.”

“We’re gonna be hated everywhere we go,” Big Mac said. “An’ it won’t be long ‘til others figure it out. Took us ‘bout twenty minutes.”

“I say we just wait for Twilight to come back to us,” Rarity said. “She can find a counter-spell, and then we’ll be fine.”

Fluttershy exchanged looks with Rainbow, who took a step back, inclining her head.

“With no light to read by?” Whooves asked.

“I… um, that is, I don’t think that’ll work,” Fluttershy said. “Um, I’m really sorry, but I think we should just go. You have to believe me; it’s for the best. I don’t think there’s a counter-spell she can do.”

“You think it is beyond her?” Octavia asked.

“I don’t think the problem is magical in nature.”

“What in the world might it be, if not magic?” Whooves asked. “This certainly appears to be magic. The parameters for the loss of electricity are too perfect.”

“Look, let’s just get out of here,” Rainbow said. “I trust Fluttershy. We can think of a solution while we walk, or we can just hover outside the town for a little while.” She looked at the piles of luggage in the corner. “Twi, I don’t suppose you can pack this stuff back up for us, can you?”

“Way too dangerous in her condition,” Rarity said. “It could get damaged, or she could hurt herself.”

They all jumped at a shrill sound: the phone was ringing. They watched it vibrate in its cradle for a moment, before Octavia answered it with a solicitous “yes?” Her face darkened, and then she hung up.

“Wrong number?” Whooves asked, smiling nervously.

“That was Vanilla Cream. He said it was a courtesy call. The ponies in the room above us know that we are here, and are approximately one minute from quite accidentally figuring out that we are the cause of this darkness.”

They looked at one another, and Big Mac put his nose under Twilight, flipping her into a standing position beside the bed.

“Leave the luggage. We will have to find a way to retrieve it later.”

It was nearly one in the morning when they got out of the hotel. No one stopped them or said anything as they passed out of the lobby. They moved again into the street, stopped at a street corner, and looked around. Twilight was still partially drunk, and Rarity was not much better. Pinkie appeared focused, but was slow to respond, and Rainbow and Fluttershy kept exchanging furtive glances.

As a carriage rolled to a stop in the street beside them, and the driver called out an idle comment on the strange blackout, the disquieting realization settled over them all: they did not know where to go. The airship was nearby, but, with no electricity, access to the lot would be restricted, and they would have no way to see where they were going if they tried to take off.

They did not have time to let the knowledge paralyze them. As soon as the path was clear, Octavia took off at a brisk pace into the city, and they followed uncomprehendingly. She said nothing, and no one asked her where she was going. They passed hotels and bars, their gimmicks flickering and going out at their approach, and always surrounded by confused ponies. The febrile light from without was no guide; it faded too soon from their approach. To their eyes, the city had no end, and no variance from its graveyard darkness.

Stopping at another defunct traffic light, they turned circles and tried to take in what they could, while some sat down to rest. A narrow beam of light cut through a canyon between two buildings, flashed around, and came to rest on them. It was an intense white, a spotlight, and they covered their eyes and turned away with cries of alarm. As if reacting to their discomfort, it broadened into a gentler floodlight, and they were able to watch as its bearer came closer, waving a hoof occasionally to signal them. She was the same mare that had stood up in The Moon Shot.

When at last she reached them, they looked at her, and she them, from behind a pair of garish, purple goggles. Her two-tone blue mane was a bird’s nest of spines and gel, an unfitting crown to the soft, creamy white of her coat, and the crisp, black music note cutie mark that showed between folds of a pale green dress.

Her light turned into a soft dome around them all, and she took turns shaking each of their hooves. Her light flashed to turquoise as she smiled and lifted her glasses with a hoof. They had to lean in to hear her. Where Fluttershy’s voice was merely quiet, a product of the pegasus’ timidity, the new pony’s was fragile and breathy, more a sigh than speech.

“Vinyl Scratch. Good to meet you all.”

“You were in The Moon Shot,” Applejack said.

She nodded. “I wanted to find you. Figured you’d be somewhere in the darkness.”

“Why would you want to find us?” Octavia asked.

“Curiosity.” Her light flickered purple. “If I can help you, all the better.”

“Help us how?” Rarity asked.

She smiled again, and her light became brighter. “I want to light the way.”