“So,” Twilight started. She surveyed the breakfast table. Octavia and Big Mac looked only marginally better than before, she with the same dark rings under her eyes, and he with an expression of forceful indifference. Vinyl and Whooves sat together, both exhausted, and Vinyl gently dusted with ash. Fluttershy and Rainbow were quiet and placid—not in the manner of ease or contentment, but of having spent all their energy and said all their words. Pinkie had lost her smile, and Rarity carried an impatient glint in her eyes that took away the charm in her calmer visage.

“So,” she said again, glancing at Photo Finish, who took the table’s head, listening politely. “There’s no space inside the dam to store any sort of weapons or monsters, or the components to assemble them suddenly, so that idea’s out. From what I can tell from what Applejack tells me, there’s not much chance of there being any sort of latent enchantments that can directly hurt us. There’s plenty of magic in there that she can’t identify, but I think it’s for something else.”

“You are able to ask her the right questions so you can trust her answers?” Photo asked.

“I am, yes.”

“So where does this leave us?” Rarity asked.

“I keep coming back to my old idea, that Discord’s going for some kind of movement. I don’t see how it’s possible, but nothing else pans out. Tonight, I’m going to ask some more questions, but, hopefully, I can go down there tomorrow and take a look for myself. I just need to double check for traps.”

“So what about today?” Rainbow asked.

“Today, I’m going to go get our ship back.” She did not look at Octavia, but the others did.

“Should any of us come along?” Fluttershy asked.

“If you want. I know it’s tough to stay here for so long.” She looked at Photo Finish. “Thank you for putting us up for so long, by the way. I’m sure it has its difficulties.”

Photo only shrugged. “My house still stands, and I have not the curse you wear. As far as I am concerned, I’m getting along splendidly.”

Twilight smiled and checked the time. “Ah, crud. I was hoping to have a little more time. This’ll probably take all day. Octavia, how angry were ponies when they thought we were back in the city?”

Octavia thought for a moment. “If you have a spell to change your appearance, you will want to use it.”

“Check this out, Cole,” Rouge said. They were at a bar somewhere on the other side of Lower Canterlot, waiting for Rouge’s friends, and for the party to begin. Colgate no longer wore the suppression collar around her horn; Rouge had helped her remove it a couple days ago, and since then, she used it almost exclusively to lift drinks. “The latest news from Ponyville.” She lowered her voice, and Colgate leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes on Rouge’s face, the door, the windows, and the ponies nearby.

“We’ve got a battle coming up, see? Lots of precogs are confirming it. Disco baby is gonna knock on the princesses’ door in about thirty days, we think.”

“Okay.”

“Our friends in Canterlot are gonna be supporting the Royal Guard, and a whole lot of others are gonna sneak up behind when the battle’s heating up. They’re setting up this big caravan of mobile weapons and things down in Ponyville, all secret-like.”

“How are they keeping an entire caravan secret?” Colgate asked, not caring about the answer.

“Beats me. There’s a lot of magic involved, I’m sure. You have friends down there, right?”

“Had. They betrayed me.”

“Ah, right. That’s right.” She swiveled uncomfortably in her chair while Colgate flagged down the bartender for another drink.

The last withdrawal symptoms had vanished a couple days ago, leaving her caught in a state between confusion and expectation. No veil was lifted off her eyes, no sartorial understanding about the nature of being, nothing. She woke up on the first normal morning of her life, rubbed her eyes, looked around, and had breakfast. Nothing changed, except she was able to keep food down.

“Listen… No, listen, I’m telling you—” the mare broke off to laugh, sliding in her seat onto the other pony.

Colgate watched Rouge’s friends talk and laugh, each of them with a drink, each of them dressed like gaudy advertisements. She thought she recognized them, but couldn’t be sure; Rouge’s friends seemed to rotate, and Colgate had never been sober with any of them, nor they her. Even before they were seated, it was clear they had been elsewhere first.

The assignment, something Colgate still remembered from days earlier, but had come to assume would never be accomplished, and never become important, was to get information from one of the regulars at the bar. Rouge had told her about it briefly, and not mentioned it again, even to point the pony out when they arrived.

She was on her fourth drink, and did not know whether she was drunk or sober. Though she had been out with Rouge nearly every night that week, it was not a sensation she understood. While her mind felt as sharp as ever, her lack of coordination bothered her, but only after she woke up the following day. It was easy to give herself up in the moment.

She could feel herself sitting inconspicuously in the booth, and could feel her eyes watching other ponies. She saw them not paying her any attention, and this, too, puzzled her. She didn’t know whether she wanted to be visible or invisible.

She ordered a second drink, her current one hardly touched, and put the two glasses beside each other, one a dark, stormy blue, the other a soft orange.

“Yyyyeah, Colgate knows what’s up!”

The whole booth jostled to accommodate one mare’s excited movements, and Colgate put on a smile. That, she knew, was enough to make her invisible to the others, and she found herself choosing that option more and more as she socialized. She finished one drink in a single draught, sluggishly pondering what had the other mares so happy, wondering what it was exactly that she—and possibly they—imitated.

The drink was strong, and she felt her head seem to swell up with the sudden influx of sensation. She could imagine herself wobbling in her seat like a windblown sign, stupefied, and imagined putting her head down on the table for a second. The idea of resting cleared her a little, and she fixed one of Rouge’s friends in her eyes. The friend stopped laughing to look back, and Colgate again donned her smile.

She knew she would throw up if she tried to drink her other drink too quickly. She had seen it many times in the past few days, and had avoided it for herself. She knew she would be sick, but smiled, grabbed the drink, and tried to drain it anyway.

The glass dropped, spilled, and rolled off the table behind her as she raced for the bathroom. Rouge and the others cheered and screamed at her departure, and she was able to force the bathroom door open in time to vomit all over the tile floor.

She fell to her knees as liquid, still cold, came up and slicked the patterned tile. She could hear movement outside and her own quiet sounds, and saw the fuzzy icicles of light reflected in her mess. She remained kneeling for a time, catching her breath, then spit, wiped her mouth, and got up. She saw a disheveled, dead-eyed mare on the other side, her front wet with vomit, and thought nothing of it. The moment had passed, and she was no longer that pony. She went back out.

The bathroom was ensconced in a dark mahogany hallway off the bar’s side, affording her a quick glimpse into the kitchen as she passed. Narrow lights kept the space dim and warm, and the teeming room outside her hole reminded her of looking through a telescope. The idea of life packed into so tight a space unnerved her, and she spun at the hall’s end. She could keep a corner in her vision at all times if she angled her head correctly.

That was when it hit her. Her head no longer pounded, her thoughts no longer felt clouded or faulty. She felt empty inside, and clear, as though she might take on any challenge and be assured in her abilities. Laughter rose up within her, but she did not laugh; her eyes had locked on to a picture on the back wall, and in its lines, she lost herself.

On her first night off her medication, she had stayed up wondering, in addition to what might happen, how she had managed to wreak such havoc in Ponyville, and had repeated the question to herself many times since. It was designed to quell impulsive behavior, and her entire scheme had been only a litany of impulses, strung together with deceit. She had been asked many times how she could do such things to herself and her neighbors, and it annoyed her that she did not know.

Alcohol was the answer. An altered mental state was what she needed, and the only other time she had ever been altered from her usual state—that of being drugged—was in those grim days of constant pressure, Noteworthy trying to blackmail her into submission. It had been enough then to push her out of her mind and into that of the pony she could become.

She walked down the corridor, walls sliding past like film reels, ponies staring in surprise at something as she moved by. More and more clicked into place as she walked. The medication had never left her; after more than twenty years of taking it every single day, three times a day, it was probably a permanent part of her body’s chemistry. She could go off of it and let its effects recede, but, to fully overcome them, she needed to overcome her own biology. She needed to transcend herself and her accustomed way of thinking; only then could she reach her true potential. She sat down with Rouge, and she had to laugh at the irony. She was a victim of herself.

“You okay, Cole?” someone asked.

“I’m fine,” Colgate said. She smiled a real smile, hoping it wouldn’t arouse any suspicion. She did not want anyone to know that she had found the answer. The pleasure was for her and her alone.

She ordered another drink while someone dabbed at her coat with a napkin, but the bartender refused. Her words fell dead on Colgate’s ears, but she responded anyway, simply repeating her request.

“C’mon, Colgate, let’s just go,” Rouge said, grabbing her by a foreleg. “This place is getting kinda stuffy anyway.”

Colgate allowed herself to be taken out of the bar and into the cool night, where she stood under the awning, breathing. The others watched her until she spoke. “So, where next?”

They chattered amongst themselves, and she nodded to the first suggestion that came her way. She knew she needed to pay more attention to the strange mares; they were her friends, she reasoned, and friends paid attention to one another. The intoxication of her discovery was simply too much, though. She walked through the dimly lit Canterlot suburbs as if wearing a talisman, completely safe and completely confident. She greeted a passing pony on her way to the next destination, but he only ran. “Go on, faster!” she called, smiling to herself. Simple words of encouragement, but she was happy to express the inflating feeling of completeness inside her.

They found a wood paneled cigar bar, much quieter than their starting place, and less crowded. Younger ponies in more conservative clothes looked up at them as they entered, and Colgate could only stare at the crowd while one of Rouge’s friends got them a table near the back.

The drinking did not stop. Colgate ordered a dry martini, knowing it to be a dignified drink, and her friends followed the same principle. She sipped it, barely tasting the alcohol, while everyone talked around her. She caught words here and there, but paid attention only to the feeling of her own joy, slowly melting into a more permanent satisfaction. She tapped her glass to make a toast, and everyone followed her, naming random things they thought were worthy of celebration.

She didn’t see the cigars arrive, but soon found herself smoking one, watching the others laugh and try to blow smoke rings. Jokes flew through the heavy air, and she felt lightheaded again. She was reminded of how she felt just before her realization—it had been only forty-five minutes ago—and, so invigorated by the feeling, finished her martini. One of her friends cheered as she set the glass down.

“My kinda girl, my kinda girl,” someone crooned, throwing a leg over Colgate’s back.

“Colgate, you’re suppose to nurse ‘em, not chug ‘em!”

“Colgate does what she wants!”

Colgate laughed, half genuinely and half for the others’ benefit. She heard their words, but comprehended little. Her own triumph had transfixed her, and she could only turn the same thoughts over and over again, returning to that bright moment in the bathroom. The answer, the solution. It filled her up inside, made her want to burst, made her want to let loose an avalanche of righteous laughter, or a torrent of heated explanation, though she knew she could never speak quickly enough to express what she felt, and everyone else would be too drunk to appreciate it.

A different pony bumped her, and someone said something that sounded like a joke, to the sound of more laughter. Colgate smiled, chuckled, took her cigar, and drove the hot end directly into her neighbor’s side. She was able to give it one playful twist before it was knocked away, and the whole table was quiet, save for the screaming. She looked blithely into the pony’s face, distorted in pain and shock—not the reaction she had expected.

“Colgate, what the hell?” Rouge shouted.

“You psycho!”

“Get that away from me!” The burned pony kicked her dropped cigar away and into the hall, and Colgate watched it skitter on a trail of cinders. “What is your problem?”

“Celestia, are you insane?”

Colgate stood up, and everyone flinched away from her. Her smile was starting to deflate, and she looked from face to face, trying to find a recognizable emotion. All she saw was anger. “Sorry, geez.”

“‘Sorry, geez’? That’s it?” the burned pony asked, clutching a cool glass to her wound.

“It was a joke,” Colgate said. “A harmless jab, that’s it. I wasn’t gonna keep it there for long.”

“You fucking twisted it,” she said, looking back at Colgate. She removed the glass, showing a ring of burned fur around a black ring of ash, enclosing a circle of raw flesh. One of her friends had a wad of napkins that she was trying to wet with her own drink, to put on the burn.

“I was just kidding around.” She frowned, mind racing. “You don’t have to get so huffy about it.”

Another mare laughed loudly, looking around. “Are you serious? Are you actually serious right now?”

“That’s, like, first degree or something,” Rouge said.

“Third. It’s third,” Colgate said. “But it’s just a little one. What’s the big deal?”

“Maybe I should try it on you, then,” the burned pony said, fumbling for her own dropped cigar.

Colgate watched her reach, watched the others trying to find something to do, or to say. It played out to her like a film, the only real sensation her own shrinking sense of satisfaction. The night had been hers, and then, as fickle as the wind, had turned around and left her empty, sucked away by the sudden uproar. She watched her hoof shoot forward to smack a drink off the table and into the pony’s lap.

“Are you nuts?” Rouge cried.

Colgate didn’t say anything, just stood there, turned, and walked out.

She stayed up and waited for Rouge to come home, sitting at the dinner table and drinking water. When Rouge stumbled through the door, she was singing something under her breath, but froze when she saw Colgate.

“Hello, Rouge.”

Rouge appeared to hesitate, then stepped into the dining room. Her voice was slurred when she spoke. “Just what is wrong with you? Seriously.”

“Your friends aren’t here anymore. You don’t have to keep up the act.”

Her voice was dry. “What act?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She smiled a real smile. “I was pretty angry, walking home, but I realized you were just posturing for them. They are your friends, and friends do that sometimes.”

“Uhh.” She moved to a chair, sat down, and then got up again, unsteady. “Okay.”

Colgate went to her and patted her on the back. “Good. Sorry for storming out like that. That was a little too much, I know.”

Rouge nodded, and Colgate helped her to bed, where they fell asleep next to each other, heads spinning.

Rouge woke up the next morning with a hangover and an appetite. She made her slow way to the kitchen, where Colgate was already sitting, drinking whiskey from a coffee mug. She nodded a greeting and offered Rouge some, which she accepted. The two of them sat across from each other, drinking.

“So, last night,” Rouge said.

“Hm?”

Rouge weighed her words. The alcohol from the night before was not fully out of her system, and she knew better than to put more on top of it. She watched Colgate pick up the bottle with her magic and refill her mug.

“What about last night?” Colgate asked.

“Well, Colgate, since you don’t seem to remember, I’ll clue you in. We were all having a dandy time at the cigar bar, when you decided to just up and zap Pirouette with your ciggy.”

“Oh, that. I remember. I remember things getting heated as well.”

Rouge nodded and took a reluctant drink. “Yeah, that’s about the right word.”

“So what’s the problem? Or are you just checking if I remember?”

“Cole, you burned one of my friends. That’s the problem.”

“It was a joke.”

Rouge stared at her, trying to consider Colgate’s response, and finding it both ridiculous and unassailable. “What do you mean, a joke?”

“You know, like ‘ha ha, gotcha’. I was teasing.” Her eyes lit up briefly. “Were they angry at me?”

“Wha—yes.” She squinted. “What did you think they were angry at?”

“I don’t know.”

Rouge looked at her, trying to think of what to say, but settled for another drink instead.

“Are you angry?”

“I dunno. It’s early.” She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea hit her. Putting her head on the table, she heard Colgate’s chair scrape the floor.

“Do you need the bathroom?”

She breathed slowly. “I’m fine, just gimme a minute.” When the feeling passed, she faced Colgate again. She didn’t look concerned, but she also didn’t look happy.

“I’m sorry if it was in bad taste,” Colgate continued. “I didn’t think your friends were that sensitive.”

“I mean, it hurt her pretty good.” Rouge shrugged, drank. “I’m just saying watch it, okay? Maybe take it easy on the drinking for now.”

Colgate’s lips formed a thin smile. “Funny you should mention that, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking recently. I enjoy going out with you and your friends. Last night aside, I have fun drinking and partying with you. However, I don’t think I should be drinking as much as I am.”

Rouge sipped her whiskey, thinking. “Um.”

“Alcohol is too disorderly. Hold on a sec.” She went to her room and came out with a slip of paper, which she slid across the table. “I need your help, Rouge.”

“Oh.” She looked into her mug, seeing it close to halfway empty, and then to Colgate’s, which she had refilled at least once. “Help? Like, with drinking? ‘Cause—”

“I need you to take that to your pharmacist.”

Rouge looked at the paper, frowning. “Meh-pear-a-dine?”

“It’s a prescription painkiller. The way I see it, I need something that I can dose out to myself accurately, something I can control.”

“Whoa, hold on.” She drank again. “Just hold on, Cole.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m no certified doctor or anything, but aren’t prescriptions like this hard to get for a reason?”

“There is addiction to consider, yes. That’s why I want you to get it for me, so ponies don’t get suspicious. I don’t want to be seen writing myself prescriptions.”

Rouge thought, fighting the alcoholic sensation in her head. “I don’t need these, though.”

“You’re my dummy patient. Don’t worry, I already wrote your name in, and they’ll accept my signature here.”

“Here?”

“It’s a thirty-day supply of pills. You can have some, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Rouge stared at the prescription. It was only nine in the morning; living alone, she would be making breakfast, cleaning herself up, maybe trying to wrangle the inflatable pool out of the shed.

“You’re okay with this, I assume? You’re not saying anything. Any pharmacist will do, though I suppose you might want to use one that won’t recognize you. I am planning repeat trips for you.”

“Celestia, Cole. You sure you don’t wanna just split a bottle of cheap vodka with me today?” She looked back at the prescription, its implacable presence on her table making her recoil inside. “I mean, booze is one thing, but pills?”

“I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing.”

She looked Colgate in the eyes. “You’re sure about this.”

“I’ve seen plenty of addictions in my time. I know how to administer responsibly.”

Rouge’s mouth was dry, and her head pounded like a tumbling cinder block. She felt another round of nausea approach and preemptively put her head on the table for it to wash over her. When she could focus again, she looked at Colgate, who looked back patiently.

“Well, if you know what you’re doing, I guess it’s okay. What is it that’s hurting?”

“You can tell the pharmacist whatever you want.”

The airship was outside Photo Finish’s house, battered, charred on one side, and its balloon patched. Twilight had flown it over that afternoon, after a day and a half of paperwork and proving, multiple times, that she was who she claimed to be. The day before, she had taken Octavia’s advice and changed her appearance upon entering the city, but her timing was not perfect, and a few police officers saw her in the middle of returning to her original appearance. Proving that she was Twilight Sparkle, and not a skilled mimic, had taken hours.

Upon demonstrating her identity, she could not simply take the ship and go. It was a matter of giving statements, verifying her purchase from the Astra family, and signing multiple waivers and documents to show that she did not intend to press charges or appear before a court of law, as well as answer questions pertaining to her residency in Applewood, the curse that followed her, and Octavia’s comments to the concierge concerning living with Photo Finish. It had taken so long to fill out and process all the paperwork that she could only reclaim their ship the day after.

Finally back, and finally able to relax, she hadn’t the time to go up to the dam. They would wait one more day.

It was eight o’ clock in the evening, with a fine mist of rainfall hissing off the river. Octavia and Big Mac were out again, keeping near the banks, where the cold air behind them mingled with the colder air off the waters. Octavia did not attempt to put up a shield to keep them dry, and Big Mac didn’t ask her. They walked side by side, soaked by the time they had covered the half-mile between river and house. Black piers stuck out into the black river, and thunder purred far to the west, where lightning would occasionally reveal small mountains that would eventually become the larger chain they had visited weeks before.

“I have something I would like to ask,” Octavia began, “but I do not know whether you will be able to answer it.”

“Go fer it,” Big Mac said.

“What is it like to be glamoured?”

“Mm, yer right. Ah don’t know what to say to that.”

“How does it feel? What does it feel like to be forced into certain decisions?”

Big Mac thought for a long time, and they turned back around before coming too close to a ribbon of distant lights. “Ah s’pose it feels all right. Ya said ‘forced,’ but it don’t feel like Ah’m bein’ forced into anythin’. Even knowin’ that Ah got it, it don’t feel forceful at all.”

“Do you feel that the decisions are still your own?”

“Eeyup. It makes me think it’s a particularly powerful bit of magic fer that reason; Ah feel like Ah’m always in control. My decision to go with you to get the ship was my own—though, lookin’ back, Ah don’t think it really was.”

“I do not understand. How can it be both?”

“The glamour don’t make me do specific actions, Ah don’t think. Ah think it just makes me do the right action.”

“I apologize, but I still do not know what you mean.”

“Hmm.” He wiped rain out of his eyes. “Well, Ah was wonderin’ lately what made me wanna go with you to get the ship, but not go with Rainbow Dash an’ Fluttershy to find information. Ah know them both better, an’ goin’ with them sure would’ve been easier, but fer some reason Ah never felt like it was important.”

“It was not important enough to merit your help?”

“Well, not really. Ah don’t understand it very well.”

“I realize that. That is why I said I do not know whether you can answer.”

He nodded. “You know what it’s like to know when somethin’ needs to be done. Gettin’ that ship, fer instance, or doin’ some of those other things Ah heard you did. The aqueducts, that tornado, an’ so on.”

“I remember.”

“Well, Ah reckon it’s a lot of the same stuff. When Ah knew what you were plannin’, Ah had that same feelin’, that sense that Ah darn sure better go along, or…”

“Or what?”

“Ah’m not sure. Ah just knew, this time, it would be bad if Ah didn’t go.”

“And it would have been. It sounds like precognition, in a way. It sounds like the talent my sister supposedly has, but more reliable.”

“Maybe it is. Ah guess it was this time. But anyway, Ah never got that sense ‘bout Miss Dash an’ Fluttershy. It always felt to me like stayin’ away was the right thing to do.”

“And it appears that it was. The nature of their task was too sensitive for anyone but themselves.”

“Eeyup.”

“That is two instances of accurate intuition.”

“It sure is. Ah noticed that too. Ah won’t lie, it’s kinda spooky.”

“You are supposed to do things that will ingratiate you to us, and, specifically, to the Elements.”

“That’s true.”

Octavia stopped and trotted closer to the river. There was only a narrow sidewalk where they were, with tall lamps spaced conservatively all along; they were the only ponies there to not benefit from their light. Waves lapped at the concrete pylons holding them off the steep banks, and she craned her neck, spotting the dull red of an old protection sigil.

“They placed those before the river got to flowin’ again, so they could keep bugs from breedin’ in all that standin’ water,” Big Mac said. “Ah learned that on the river tour.”

“I have seen them elsewhere.” She looked at him from behind her sopping mane. “If your glamour makes you do things to get closer to the Elements, and it most recently caused you to help me only, then I imagine that that would mean I am close enough to them now to take up an Element as well. Do you remember that?”

“Makin’ new Elements? Ah remember us not reachin’ a decision.”

“Yes.” She started back down the sidewalk. “This is troubling.”

“Ah’ll probably get one too,” Big Mac said. “In fact, Ah think Ah’m s’posed to. That’s what the glamour’s fer. Ah get close to the Elements, become an intimate friend, an’ then Ah have to get one fer myself.”

Octavia froze. “That is it.”

“What? What’s it?”

“That is why you were glamoured. I see it now. If you can get close enough to us to need an Element of your own, then finding the six will not be enough. We will need to create at least one more for you.” She frowned.

“Ah… Well—”

“There is more. I remember Twilight saying that she could not possibly add in one Element to the extant six, because it would change the very natures of the artifacts. You would be that one Element.”

“Yer losin’ me.”

“Big Macintosh, you are a red herring. You were made to force yourself to be eligible to be an Element of Harmony, only for us to waste time trying to figure out how to make it so, something that we would never be able to do.”

He appeared to not understand at first, but then comprehension filled his face. “Ah see,” he said softly.

“I am sorry if I sounded insensitive.”

He sighed. “Well, Miss Octavia, it ain’t yer doin’.” A light flicked on far behind them. “So Ah’m one of Discord’s tools, sounds like. Just like that Thunderhead, an’ Vanilla, an’ whoever else is out there that we don’t know ‘bout. Probably the dam.”

“But you are aware of what you are.”

“An’ Ah’m also aware that Ah can’t make my own decisions!” he snapped. “Ah can’t shake this glamour, an’… you know, Ah remember Twilight sayin’ she could break it real easy if she needed to. Ah don’t want that.”

“You do not?”

He sat down and bowed his head, and, in a small voice, said, “Ah can’t. Ah’m not allowed to want that.”

Octavia watched him. “Well… I do not know what to tell you. I am sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry fer. Ah… uh, Ah dunno. Ah don’t wanna talk, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

He slumped closer to the ground, then glanced up at her. “You don’t have to stay here. Ah’ll make my way back home eventually.”

She approached and sat down beside him. “I will stay with you until you are ready to go.”

Whooves was rattling around somewhere else in the house, speaking apparently to himself, making himself laugh, while Rainbow and Fluttershy occupied one of Photo’s drawing rooms. They had checked the house’s acoustics before selecting the room, Rarity having told them of its qualities to ease in eaves dropping.

“I’ve been thinking, and Octavia’s right. There really is no way this is gonna end without us being in or around that dam,” Rainbow said. “Especially now with Vinyl and the doctor getting taken in, we’re gonna have to do something. So.” She spread her hooves wide, as if indicating the empty space to be filled by Fluttershy’s contribution.

“Don’t worry, Rainbow Dash. I have it under control,” Fluttershy said.

“Now, for some reason, I get the feeling you’re holding out on me.”

She smiled, then smothered it. “Yes. You know me well.”

“C’mon.” Her voice was easy, patient, as she knew it needed to be to draw Fluttershy into speaking openly.

“You know I’m not one to get angry easily,” Fluttershy said. “And I’m not one to hate, either. I don’t think I’ve hated anyone in my whole life.”

“Me neither. Not hate.”

“I might hate Pretzel, and I think I probably hate Pure Waterfall.”

Rainbow nodded respectfully. She could tell Fluttershy was exaggerating, but not much.

“They’re both disgusting ponies. I only hate him more because he’s still doing wrong. At least Pretzel had the decency to keep to herself.”

“You have that right,” Rainbow said softly. She was concentrating on summoning a calming dome of warm air. When she was comfortable, she continued more easily. “What are you gonna do when we have to go back to the dam?”

Fluttershy turned her head, got her mane in front of her eyes, and then, after a moment of consideration, pushed it out of the way. Her eyes were harder than Rainbow was accustomed to seeing in her. “I don’t know if I can, Rainbow Dash.”

“I think you can.”

Fluttershy’s mane fell back into place in front of her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Rainbow eased onto her back and talked at the ceiling. “You were able to take us this far.”

“You helped, and you know it. Without you, I wouldn’t have done anything. I’d have stayed here and let Twilight try to research her way to a solution.”

“I only helped by being there. You did all the work, and you know it.” She looked at Fluttershy. “I’ll be there this time too, you know.”

“I know.” She blinked, and a tear appeared on her fur. “I’m sorry for this. It’s stupid of me to waver here, now, when I’ve managed for so long.”

“It’s never stupid to need help. Celestia knows, I’ve had that conversation with Twilight enough times.”

Fluttershy sighed. “That doesn’t surprise me. She’s doing better, don’t you think?”

“Worlds. I don’t think I’ve seen her doing that thousand-mile stare in quite a while.”

“Maybe I inherited a little of that for this leg of the journey.”

Rainbow closed her eyes, and the dome momentarily grew hotter as she ordered her thoughts. “Don’t compare this to that. They’re not the same thing, Fluttershy.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I get that it messed with your head in some way, but it never… well, Twilight took her thing harder.”

Fluttershy moved her wings, a light whispering in the otherwise silent room. “You’re right. I should have said that differently.”

“You are right, though, that Pretzel and Pure Waterfall are awful ponies. Are you planning on keeping this all a secret still, when we’re done with the dam?”

“If I possibly can, yes.”

“I’ll do what I can to follow along.”

They remained in the room, both quiet, listening to the house and to Whooves going about his business. “I’ve been thinking about what to do if I see either of them again. What I’ll say.”

“And what’s that?”

“If I see Pretzel again, I’ll tell her to enjoy her life. It seems to be the only thing she’s good at. If I see Pure Waterfall again, I think I’ll slap him.”

Rainbow laughed. “Promise you’ll leave room on his face for me.”

“I promise.”

Every machine stopped at once. Applejack lay prone on a walkway abutment, the radio by her head, speaking with Twilight, when she was suddenly aware of a stifling, emptying silence. The concrete under her body stopped vibrating, and the low rumble of water and machinery came to rest. She stood up and tapped herself into the dam, not pausing to tell Twilight what was happening.

She felt the presence of each machine as she had in days past, the ways in which they were separate from their fellows, and the ways that they were connected. Wires like bundles of nerves, engines like tiny hearts, pistons like muscles: all of it was still, as if someone had flipped a switch somewhere and turned off her world. She could distantly hear Twilight asking whether she was okay.

The generators had stopped. The sluice gates had frozen where they were, open or closed, or between the two. The filters stopped filtering, the pistons stopped firing, the gauges and meters had gone dead. Water moved within on its own, filling up canals that were not meant to be filled, coming to rest inside turbines, cutting the dam’s life.

“Applejack, you need to answer me now,” Twilight shouted.

Applejack dove back into herself, rolling over with the familiar, sickening sensation of compressing her cognizance back into her single, small body. She picked up the radio, but didn’t need to ask what had upset Twilight. Before her, the entire city of Applewood, every light, every sign on The Bright Road, had gone completely dark.

And then, under her hooves, she felt a different vibration. The river was flowing backwards.

No one locked the door, and only Twilight held them up, doubling back momentarily to grab her books, Celestia’s vault note, and, after a second of thought, Octavia’s cello, stowing them all in her magical space. Big Mac already had the ship running when she raced aboard, and no one thought to yell down to Photo Finish, who remained gawking in the doorway long after they were out of sight.

Applejack spoke through the radio on the deck, her urgency threatening to break into true panic with each passing minute. The river was flowing backwards, and the dam was starting up once more. She was too shocked with fear to put herself inside.

They flew at a high altitude, taking several minutes to reach a point where they would not accidentally hit any hotels as they crossed the darkened city. Ponies below were raising their voices in a confused miasma while unicorn lights popped in and out like slow fireworks, each one illuminating its section in a sea of disorganized life. Vinyl was in the back of the ship, staring out and trying to master her trembling. She knew nothing, except that whatever hypothetical reason the Elements might need to leave early was upon them, and she was a part of it.

The dam, too, was dark. No floodlights showed its walkways or gantries as it hummed in the distance, the only mechanical sound in the entire city. Applejack said she was near the bottom, close to the residential side on an artificial hill. Big Mac aimed the ship in her direction and sent them flying straight over The Bright Road. Apogee swiveled past them, and Rarity spared a moment to look longingly at it.

“Okay, Ah think Ah can do this now,” Applejack said. “Ah’m in a safer spot. Celestia, Twi, you should hear it! There must be a million gallons of water under my hooves, an’ it sounds like it’s comin’ out on the other side somehow.”

“That’s great, Applejack,” Twilight said. “What can you tell me about what’s going on inside?”

“Hang on. Yer on yer way, right?”

“We’re about to start flying over the river.”

“Good. Be right back.”

Twilight looked up from the radio and out over the dark road of river. The clouds still covered Applewood, but there was no electric light for them to trap. The dam could have been a part of the landscape to her eyes.

“Ah really can’t explain this, Twi,” Applejack said.

Twilight wet her lips, willing her eyes to adjust faster. “Try.”

“It’s pumpin’ water back into itself. Ah followed it, an’ there’s a whole bunch of hatches in the back, holes in the concrete encasement. Ah think it’s spewin’ water back into the river behind itself.”

“How can the dam make the river flow backwards?”

“It ain’t, it’s doin’ that on its own.”

Twilight looked down, thinking she might be able to see evidence of the water’s reversal. “Okay. That’s probably Discord’s magic at work. What else is the dam doing?”

“All that stuff at the bottom came to life at the same time. All them pistons, all them turbines, everythin’s whirrin’ away down there. Ah reckon the first reservoir’s gonna be drained off in ‘bout five minutes.”

“So he’s removing all the water,” Rainbow said, flapping over. “Is he stupid? What good’s that gonna do?”

“Twilight, there’s gotta be at least a hundred individual pistons down there. Once the water’s gone, it’s gonna be pistons an’ land, an’ nothin’ much else but some stranded boats and buoys.”

Twilight thought, waving a hoof at Rainbow to be quiet. “Applejack, is there anything happening near the top of the dam? Anything at all, except whatever’s pumping the water back out?”

“Let me check.”

Twilight turned to the others, all looking at her. “There’s the entire foundation and a crazy amount of mechanical components all at the bottom of the dam,” she said. “It’s bottom heavy, and it has a hundred industrial pistons that are about to be in contact with the ground.”

“Please tell me that crazy idea of yours isn’t going to turn out to be the correct choice,” Whooves said. “I don’t know if I can handle seeing something like that.”

“Twilight,” Applejack said. “Not only is it all off, but it’s not there anymore. It took me a second to find it, but it all slid down to the bottom. Twilight, all of it’s at the bottom.”

“How long until that water’s gone?” Rarity asked.

“Maybe two minutes.”

“And then it’s going to start moving,” Twilight said. “That has to be it. It’s going to drag itself, inch by inch, on its own pistons. There won’t be a reservoir to hold it back.” She looked at them, then at the dam, still far off. “If anyone has any ideas, now would be the time to voice them. Nothing’s too stupid right now.”

Applejack cradled the radio under her chest where she lay, backed into a corner between a wire fence and wet, gravelly hillside. She thought she could see the airship coming near, but it was so dark, she wasn’t sure.

Taking a second to prepare herself for the shock she knew she would find, she closed her eyes and slipped back into the dam. As soon as she did, she rushed back out.

“Twilight, it’s goin’.”

They had only thirty seconds to stare at each other in defeated shock before Applejack announced that their time had run out. One more quick check inside the dam confirmed Twilight’s idea: its foundation was free, and only the abutments, weak shelves of concrete that would be easily snapped off, held the dam back from an agonizing forward motion.

“Applejack, find somewhere safe, if you can,” Twilight said. “And do everything in your power to stop it or slow it down. Don’t worry about talking to us anymore, just get in there and work. We’ll… do something.”

“The instant it moves away, that river’s gonna come crashing in from the other side,” Applejack said. “So Ah hope you’ve got a plan fer that. Ah’ll stay inside as long as Ah can, an’ Ah think you told me once that my spirit can stick ‘round in the machine if my body dies.” There was a pause on the other side, and they could hear the rushing water over her head. “Ah love you girls. Over an’ out.”

Twilight clicked off the radio, then clicked it back on. “I hadn’t thought of it, but she’s right. That river back there…”

“Big Mac, take us up to the residential area on that hillside,” Rarity said. “Drop me off right on the edge.”

“You?” Rainbow said. “Just you?”

Rarity exchanged a nervous look with Twilight, who understood immediately what the idea was. “Vanilla recently enhanced my abilities with shields, and thank Celestia he did. I think I’m going to need to hold that river back.”

“You’re crazy,” Whooves said.

“Let me help, Rarity,” Twilight said.

“No, don’t.” Rarity turned back to them. “This is what needs to happen. Actually, Rainbow Dash, I’d appreciate it if you can come with me. The rest of you, go below, in front; Big Mac will hold you stable over the river.”

“Rarity, are you sure about this?” Octavia asked.

“I believe so.” She turned back around quickly, making sure the dam was still in its place. “Twilight, Octavia, Pinkie, you three do everything you can to take out the pistons at the bottom. Keep it from advancing too much, and maybe we can push it back in place once it’s immobile.”

“All that weight,” Octavia said softly from behind.

“Vinyl, you’re good with lights, I heard? Keep their targets lit up for them.”

“What about us, Rarity?” Whooves asked, indicating himself and Fluttershy, frozen and shaking.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you can do for us here, doctor,” Rarity said. “We’ll surely need Fluttershy for when someone passes out. I… I don’t want to mince words here. That’s going to happen, almost certainly.”

“What do you need me for?” Rainbow asked.

“It’s cold out, but with the magical exertion, I’m going to overheat. I need you to keep the area around me at a stable, comfortable temperature.”

“Rarity, what happens if you pass out?” Fluttershy asked.

Rarity sighed and looked up at the balloon. “Well, Fluttershy, the way I see it, Applejack thinks she might be giving her life tonight. If it means keeping that river from escaping, then so can I.”

Inside the dam, Applejack saw for the first time the spectacular intricacy of Discord’s design. The pistons were positioned so that there would always be some touching the ground, a system she thought was random at first, before everything had moved into place. Empty tunnels and channels filled the dam’s top half, where everything had dropped to its appropriate location at the bottom, into perfect empty spaces that had puzzled her and Twilight endlessly. Water still flowed out the backside, the dam emptying itself of the water it had taken on in the brief period of inactivity. The spouts, she saw, would automatically close when the last of the water was gone.

The same magic that had kept her from accessing anything central in the dam had shifted, too, with the reorganization of its internal structure. She could reach no pistons and no generators on the bottom, as they were suddenly connected to the dam’s enchanted heart. Had she been in one at the time of transition, she realized, she might be trapped, or squeezed into oblivion.

For a minute, she was lost, amazed at her own unconscious bravery, and then found her idea. She swam up to the dam’s top half and located a set of closed gates, ordinarily just above the waterline. They were unprotected, apparently forgotten, not vital to the dam’s leg structure. She didn’t hesitate; with all her influence and all her will to ruin, she flung them open. Water rushed back in.

Rarity and Rainbow galloped off the ship and onto the trembling, but unbroken, parapet at the dam’s top, within view of a line of dark houses. The airship didn’t touch down, but immediately swooped off the hill and down toward the river.

“Rare, you sure you can do this?” Rainbow asked.

“Rainbow Dash, there’s no one else who can,” she said. “Get the temperature stable around me, and I’d ask that you please not speak unless you absolutely must. Concentration is paramount.”

Big Mac found a spot on the river, just before the water cut off at the reservoir’s edge, and angled the ship to face its broad side toward the dam. The superstructure shook like an unhealthy creature, its pistons like centipede legs, producing a greasy chewing sound in the exposed riverbed. Still, it did not separate from its abutments.

“Vinyl, light,” Twilight said, and Vinyl beamed a bright triangle of light at the dam’s very bottom. Each leg was the size of the airship, moving up and down with crushing speed, a blur too big to be real.

Octavia stood just beside her, and, leaning out, conjured the first spell. An explosion, dwarfed against the rising leg, momentarily bloomed, leaving a fan of smoke over the deafening, cavernous emptiness. Twilight nodded in approval and cast her own spell, grabbing a leg telekinetically and holding on.

It struggled, and Octavia smacked it with another explosion, warping its outer casing and bending a cage of thin bars outwards. Twilight could see it try to move when she released it, but it could only wag in place before stopping. She looked at Octavia happily, readying herself for another spell, when something large snapped on both sides.

Rarity was ready before anyone else. She could feel the vibrations speed up, and she could see the ground loosening. The reservoir behind had filled past its barrier from the rest of the river, and when the white snake tails of pumped water finally stopped pouring from the dam’s top, she scanned the vista. Separation would come next, and she needed to be ready. Closing her eyes as she had been taught, she first visualized the river as it was, then visualized it as it would be, then visualized it as she desired, her magic in place.

Her horn activated, and magic flowed through her, first hers, and then the foreign, but comfortable magic that Vanilla Cream had grafted into her. She stretched out until she could feel the freezing water against her, filling her mind like an inflating balloon. She opened her eyes slowly, breathing through her nose. Rainbow stood out of sight, but the air was to Rarity’s liking.

She looked over the river. Up against the dam’s inside edge, a curtain of magic glistened, and she watched it dispassionately, knowing to expect pressure when the dam finally moved.

The snaps did not make her jump. She held on to her shield, almost relaxed in her determination, and watched as the nearby abutment crumbled. The tan curve of concrete and metal slid out of place, shuddered, and then took its first lumbering step as each piston worked in concert to roll the monolith over exposed riverbed. The river didn’t even ripple.

When the dam moved toward them, Twilight and Octavia both paused. It had been threatening to do so, and Twilight had told them to expect it, but seeing it actually before them was enough to momentarily drain their preparation. It was too big to be completely seen from where they floated; its heavy, arched step sent tremors through the paused river and made the air tremble. Months ago, when they periodically cast spells to wedge pieces of ground back together, they had faced the same sense of appalling awe, but that was pure magic, and restorative. The only magic they could see was the magic that powered the machines, but it was the machines themselves that moved the structure, and moved it toward them.

“Are you okay?” Fluttershy asked from behind.

“Come on, Octavia,” Twilight said. She conjured another telekinetic spell, difficult at her distance from the dam, and grabbed a leg, holding it in position for Octavia to break with an explosion. They had managed a couple legs in such a way, many simply folding up into the dam’s underside, some snapping off entirely.

“Rarity’s holding that entire river back,” Whooves said. “I simply cannot believe it.”

No one responded.

Rarity held the river, and she was at ease. Her horn ached comfortably, and she did not mind the rivulets of sweat coursing down her face. Her vision would occasionally fade, tired of looking at the same thing for so long, but her concentration was ironclad; in her mind’s eye, the waters were still against her shield, and it was so. She could hear her friends below, attacking with a steady rhythm.

Concentration was important for powerful magic, she knew, but had not long ago learned the power of patience as well. Often overlooked, patience with one’s own magic allowed for longer intervals of use, as well as a more consistent level of intensity. Somewhere deep in her thoughts, not yet overtaken by the single-minded need to keep her shield alive, she knew that her spell was especially sensitive to breaks in focus, in patience. One overeager push back on the waters could split her shield in half, send one side flooding into the reservoir and destroying everything in its way.

It was not difficult for her, but she knew it soon would be. As she grew more tired, it would be harder and harder to maintain the same power level. She would feel it fading, or believe herself to be feeling it, and would need to compensate safely.

Applejack got out of the dam so she could move her body farther up the hill, pushing through thorny bushes and stumbling over rocks. When the dam separated from the hill, she had thought she was dead, but no water crushed her, and she could only look up, dumbstruck, hoping that whatever her friends had done, it would last.

She found a narrow ravine where she could climb onto a partially buried boulder, and escape to a higher, more distant vantage. The dam’s side was pure, faceless concrete, perfect for seamless, painless separation. She went back in.

The legs moved in a constant, sickening spin, like spindle’s teeth. With only a few inoperative, the dam’s progress had not slowed, and the broken legs did not get in the way of the others; Discord, or Vanilla, had even thought to leave room for collateral damage and wreckage.

She had been worried initially about finding ways to help damage the structure, but found that it was not difficult. Her options were so limited that finding a component she could control, even partially, was akin to feeling her way along a corridor, so constricting that any open space called out to her spreading consciousness. She was reminded of water filling a porous stone; there were only so many places to go.

The inert mechanics, pieces of the dam that had been important only for maintaining its ordinary function until the change, were unguarded. She flowed from supplementary generator to supplementary generator, activating each one and leaving it to operate at maximum output. She couldn’t hurt any moving piece of the dam, but she could waste its energy.

Meanwhile, her body lay useless on the rocks.

Twilight could not tell how long she and Octavia had been attacking. They were both tiring, and the dam still moved, each step a thundering alarm. Rarity’s words seemed more and more a distant, impossible idea: putting the dam back once it had been stopped. Twilight was beginning to question whether they would even get that far.

Whenever one of its legs was taken out of commission, it would fold up out of sight, and nothing would change. For a few heartening minutes, they had thought that removing the legs on one side would make the dam lose balance, but each remaining leg, they eventually noticed, would slide over like beads in an abacus. There was never more than a minute of imbalance.

“This is ridiculous,” Octavia said softly as another leg folded away. “There are too many. We will be flattened before we finish this.”

Twilight said nothing, only grabbed another leg, struggling to hold it back. As much as she tried to keep it out of her mind, her magic was weakening, and she knew it. Sweat was standing at the base of her horn, and she could feel her heartbeat.

“Big Mac, take us farther away,” Octavia said.

“No!” Twilight cried. “Take us closer.”

“Do not be foolish, Twilight.”

“Big Mac, take us closer,” Twilight insisted. “I can do better closer.”

Big Mac looked at her for a second, and then did as she said. They slowly turned to face the dam and flew along the river, not high off its surface. The legs rolled maniacally onwards, pulling it up for its next step, a step that would take it only two or three away from the reservoir’s edge. It was not far from breaking into the rest of the river, something Twilight knew with unscientific certainty would be disastrous.

When they evened out, she was able to look directly into the interior, where featureless, black walls of cogs and wiring writhed. Vinyl’s light held steady, and she selected another leg, wrenching it away with only slightly renewed strength.

Rarity didn’t know how much longer she could hold the river. Keeping the shield up was no longer easy; she could feel the water’s weight pressing against it, and it pressing against her, wanting to sink back into her horn. Her mind had to work faster to keep her shield alive, rushing to strengthen sections that were growing tired, as well as regulating itself so she didn’t push back too hard.

It had been fifteen minutes, and the base of her horn was hot. She stood in the same position as she had been when she first summoned her magic, and the circulation in her hooves was gone; if she moved, even to shift her weight, the heavy tingling would bring her to her knees, and she might lose control of the spell in that moment. She could see the dam moving toward her friends out of the corner of her eye, and the explosions had stopped, but she dared not look. She could only hold the waters and hope they weren’t as tired as she.

Twilight stopped attacking, and Octavia looked at her. “Come on, Twilight. We cannot stop; Rarity will not last forever.”

The quick reinvigoration she had felt upon casting from a shortened distance lasted only for two legs before crashing around her, leaving her with a chest aflame and soaked in sweat, which was gradually turning cold as it flowed down her face. Her vision was fuzzy. “What are we gonna do after this? To help Rarity?” Twilight panted, reigniting her horn weakly.

“We must return the dam to its spot in front of the river.”

Twilight looked at her, astounded, then shocked that she had forgotten, and pitched forward.

Anger flared up in Octavia, and her explosion crackled and spat like a grease fire against its moving target. “Get up!” she shouted, and Twilight struggled.

“I can’t do it.”

Fluttershy rushed forward to help, to attempt to heal something that was not within her magical expertise, and Octavia looked back to the dam. Each spell she cast was a blow against her body, and her head was spinning.

“You are an Element of Harmony. The Element of Magic, no less,” she mumbled. She knew Twilight could not hear. “I cannot do this on my own.”

Twilight’s horn glowed weakly, but nothing happened, and the dam completed another step. The ponies in the city would feel each one as miniature earthquakes, but all she felt, aloft, was the pit of dread in her stomach deepening further. Rarity was a white speck above them, and Applejack was not visible.

“Twilight, please!” She backed up involuntarily and sat down, her vision pulsing in and out of squiggling darkness. The shout had been too much, and she could feel herself sliding toward unconsciousness. Voices called her name and Twilight’s, and she fought to keep her eyes open. Like falling asleep, to close them, even for an instant, would be to forfeit. Pinkie was screaming something, and she felt herself dragging back. A figure stood before them, horn alight, tiny flashes of power shooting out at the giant dam.

“Thank you, Twilight. I will join you as soon as I am able,” Octavia said, and gave in to darkness.

Applejack was stuck between a sheer cliff face and a steep path of loose stone that she could not descend safely. She had climbed up by bracing her legs against larger rocks on both sides, not paying attention to where it led, only trying to put more distance between herself and the relentless dam. With each step, it encroached upon the hillside, its blank concrete sides scraping land away like butter to pitch into the frothy, muddy hell below, and then pounded into nothing by its marching claws.

With effort, she could still reach the dam, and did so again, securing herself as best she could. Her friends had hurt it, but not slowed it; it was designed, she saw, to be as near to unstoppable as possible. Until more than half the legs had been destroyed, a number they were nowhere close to fulfilling, the dam would be able to keep moving.

Amidst the jumble of feelings, she picked out something new, and followed it back down to the pumps. They were starting up again, and she could feel reserve power slowly flowing toward the gates. The dam was preparing to start pumping water again. She had seen Rarity’s shield—she had recognized the magic’s color—and knew that the unicorn would be tiring soon, if she weren’t already. Any water sent through the dam would hit that shield, and she knew it could easily be the gentle tap required to break Rarity’s concentration and inundate them all.

It was with a spiraling, sickening feeling that Applejack discovered that Discord had been careful. She could not reach the pumping mechanisms on either side.

Pinkie and Fluttershy could only drag Twilight and Octavia back as Big Mac stood at the wheel, flashing his clueless expression between the advancing dam and the remaining ponies. Only Vinyl stood at the ship’s side, flicking tiny seeds of light off the dam’s legs.

“Take us back, Big Mac,” Fluttershy said. “Take us… just back for now. I think. Oh, Celestia.”

The dam jerked forward with a creaking menace, and Vinyl jumped backwards. Her horn glowed dark red for a moment before she resumed her position, visibly shaking. Pinkie stood behind her, watching, standing partial guard over her unconscious sister.

Twilight stirred, and Fluttershy helped her sit up; she was unstable and weak, and almost collapsed again, had Fluttershy caught her.

“Come on, Twilight! You can do it!” Pinkie said, and Twilight looked at her dimly. Fluttershy moaned and helped her walk up beside Vinyl.

Twilight did not comprehend what she saw; it was a formless, gray slab to her, a dream. She leaned against Vinyl, who smiled emptily and leaned in to Twilight’s ear. “Please, Twilight, do something. I’m less than useless up here.”

She hit the dam with another ineffectual blast, and Twilight, swaying in a daze for a moment, built up a cone of magic on her horn. For nearly twenty seconds, it shimmered in air, and those that could look did so, in their hearts feeling it was the salvation they were praying for. In the throes of desperation, Twilight would persist and produce a spell to topple their enemy.

A powerful column of sparkling energy fizzled and scorched the concrete over the legs she hit, and the dam shuddered. Once.

Behind, Fluttershy was trying to wake up Octavia with Pinkie crouching over her. Her eyes flicked up to the dam nervously, meeting Fluttershy’s for a second. Neither of them said it, but the look they exchanged was clear enough to them: it was the end. Twilight’s stand had failed, and she would not last for more than a few minutes, nor would Octavia if she woke up. Vinyl was no help, and Fluttershy knew nothing of offensive magic.

“At least Rarity and Rainbow Dash will probably survive,” Fluttershy thought, offering an encouraging smile to Pinkie, who shook her sister, whispering her name under tears.

Applejack banged her dislodged spirit against Discord’s magic, each touch with it like a stab of uncontrollable, frightening thoughts invading her core. She could do nothing else, and could see and hear clearly that nothing else was being done.

Vinyl backed up, dragging Twilight with her, and Whooves came to her aid. “Passed out again. Can’t do shit to this thing. Help,” she whispered, and he only nodded, taking Twilight and setting her next to Octavia, who was still not awake.

He looked up at the dam, one step from the reservoir’s edge, one step from the river, and not much farther from their ship. Big Mac had them creeping upwards, and he scanned the scene, hoping for inspiration, when his eyes strayed to Pinkie.

“Wait… Pinkie! You! That’s it!” He jumped up, heart suddenly soaring.

Pinkie looked at him. “What—what’s it?”

“Pinkie, we need you,” Whooves said. “Your magic. I—we—you—we all forgot it, but it’s you! You’re the one with the power, Celestia said. You can hurt it.” He laughed. “We can still win!”

Pinkie looked from him, to Fluttershy, to Twilight on the deck.

“Go on, Pinkie, give it what for!”

Pinkie didn’t get up.

“Come on! No time like the present!”

She looked at the dam, closed her eyes, and said, “I can’t.”

He shook his head and perked up an ear, grinning. “What’s that?”

“I can’t. I—I think you’re misunderstanding, doc. I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Pinkie, you have to do something,” Fluttershy said calmly, not looking away from the dam.

Pinkie hung her head and traced a circle on the deck.

“Not long now,” Rarity thought hopelessly. The shield was weakening in places, and she had to allow it. Water seeped through and trickled down the outside, and keeping her magic up held all of her concentration. Simply knowing she could do it was no longer enough; she was almost out of energy, and maintaining her output had her shaking where she stood. Her horn was an iron poker in her forehead, and her vision had tunneled to almost nothing. Her legs were dead; her neck was screaming from holding her head in the same position for so long. Her head was empty from lack of sleep.

Still, she persisted. She had meant what she said.

Vinyl was out of magic, and the dam advanced. Only Whooves stared ahead with dead indifference. They were rising with all speed, but, with the damages the ship had endured, they would need longer than they thought Rarity could give before the river took them.

“We’re not going to stop it,” Fluttershy said softy. “This is well and truly it.”

Pinkie’s refusal had not shocked them; they were beyond shock. Numb from sleeplessness, spirits stunted from the sudden pressure, every face showed its resignation. Death would come. They had made peace with it, some before the last hope had flown.

“Someone’s coming,” Pinkie said, and they looked.

Out across the river, striding with all the unhurried calm of an omen, Vanilla Cream’s white body shone out. He trod over the water, gently floated up to their level, and gingerly hopped over the gunwale. He took in the scene, watching first the ponies and then the dam, its final step descending. “Well, this is quite the mess you’ve got here.”

The riverbed rumbled with impact, and he smiled at Pinkie, who did not look at him.

“Unfortunately, destroying it is not my place,” he said. His voice cut through the noise perfectly. “I have come only to move you.”

“Where?” Whooves asked. His head bobbed up as he said it.

Vanilla pierced him with a look of contempt. “Where my fancy dictates.”

His horn flashed like a camera, and Rarity and Applejack, lifeless, were by his side. Roaring water instantly filled the air, and Pinkie screamed. The water broke on the dam, spreading two towering, white wings of foam at its sides before coalescing back into a single, flowing battering ram, front fanged with boiling tips of whitewater.

Those that could run scattered across the ship, and those that could not flew like storm-tossed branches at the force of millions of gallons slamming into them. Each one became a crushed body in the flood, and their ship shattered.

Vanilla stood inside the deluge as it passed through and around him, not caring to watch the carnage. His horn flashed a second time, and his voice filled the corners of their dying dreams: “Wake up somewhere new.”