“It’s been an hour. A-are you ready to—”

“Continue?” Briar utters, snatching the words right out of my mouth. “I. I. Am. Question is. Are. You. P-Princess?”

I take a deep breath and puff out my chest. “I am.” I barely manage to keep my trembling upper lip from showing. “You left off sometime after telling of the test subject’s ‘destiny’—” Gods, the word feels like filth in my lips! “—Followed by you telling me about—”

“The youngest. Of the. Project.” Briar cuts me off for the third time. Rather than getting insulted by it, I just give the doctor a nod and allow him to resume.

Briar adjusts his scarred rump over the cushion-less steel chair and takes several deep breaths. With each one, his trembling form starts to lessen, until finally halting altogether. “Project Harbinger officially started near the end of harvest season.” His tone blurs the line between what I would call ‘monotone’ and ‘distantly cold,’ yet, I do notice it is no longer fractured or stuttering. Feels like I’ve said part of that already though, I think to myself. Must be my imagination.

“By that time, all preparations were in place. The initial three subjects had been placed in their respective rooms, the cameras, lights and speakers were fully operational, and all staff members had settled into their positions.”

I grimace. This has nothing to do with what he was telling me earlier. Is he deliberately trying to ignore my question?

Before I can even open my mouth to speak, Briar closes his eyes and resumes. Even with eyes shut, he has an unnerving presence.

“At the stroke of midnight, Grogar requested that everypony report to the control room to witness the ‘start of his dream’, as he called it. When the last security officer arrived, he turned to us and, in a cheery tone I had not heard him use since the last cocktail party, said ‘observe.’ He then…”

…Leans into the microphone, grin on his lips, and begins chanting a strange language that I feel certain no one but he can understand:

We all watch the three active monitors, silently waiting for something to happen. The subjects all continue to sit in their room, dumbstruck by the doctor’s chanting. They stare at the cameras with confused expressions.

The silence is only broken when the youngest of the three subjects walks up to the camera in her quarters and starts to tap her hoof on it. “Uh, Mr. Doctor Grogar, sir. What... is govoreet? Part of testing? Do I remember? Because there is no way. I can probably try, but no way I can remember all. What reach’ is that, anyway?”

Despite the tapping, Grogar continues chanting for few more seconds, voice growing dimmer and dimmer until finally, he stops and stares slack-jawed at the monitors. He purses his lips and takes a step away from the controls, not bothering to answer the filly’s question. In fact, no one steps forward to reply. How can we when we ourselves are just as dumbstruck as she is?

Grogar grumbles under his breath and presses a button on the console, shutting the speakers off. He then takes a seat on the nearest chair and slumps over it. “I… I don’t understand,” he hisses. “I did everything as required! Why isn’t it working!?”

Even if I could somehow come up with an answer, I don’t think I would have spoken it. There are enough issues with everything going on as is for me to even come up with something coherent, let alone satisfactory.

Grogar sighs, runs a hoof over his mane, and turns to face us. “Seems we’ve run into an issue here.” He set his gaze directly on to me. “Briar, go check on the subjects. Make sure they are all healthy and untouched.”

I don’t give the doctor a response, especially about the ‘untouched’ part. I just nod and wander out of the observation room. I quicken my pace as I make my way down the ‘labyrinth’, and enter the testing chambers. Four guards nod in approval of my entry before opening the hatches and granting me access to the general quarters hub.

I set my eyes on the first of the three occupied rooms. The bulwarks look more like something meant to stop an explosion than to isolate test subjects. Just to open one requires that a handle be turned, a lever be pulled, and a code be entered on a nearby keypad. Not to mention permission from the observation hub.

The first hatch swings open; the room where the older pegasus mare is ‘lodging’. She is a gray coated and white maned local pegasus whose name I’m not allowed to know. Despite likely being in her early fifties, she looks slender and well-toned. Had it not been the hoofkerchief tied around her head in the stereotypical ‘babushka’ style, she could have easily passed of as a mare half her age.

As soon as I enter, she jumps off her cot and hovers towards me. “Chto za shum?”

I raise one of my eyebrows at the foreign language. “Come... again?”

The mare frowns and shakes her head. “Tsifry. Vy govorite obshchiy yazyk…” She sighs and clears her throat. “Yuo... no speak-a Stalliongrad-nese, da?” Her accent is thick and dripping with that Stalliongrad rhythm that was unmistakable. Just as her physical appearance, she also sounds half her age. I nod in reply as I wonder if Grogar got the age of the subject wrong in the dossier.

“Can unicorn tell what was noise?” She points to the speaker.

Doesn’t seem like she can talk in the common tongue too well, I think to myself. I quickly come up with the most convenient answer I can. “Oh, that? It was just a test of the speaker system. It didn’t go well.”

She shoots the speaker at the corner of her room a glare. “Nyet! That no test. That bad vystupleniye! Very creepy... Skin crawl at golos.”

I don’t say anything else to the mare after that. I just do as Grogar instructed and check her vitals. As expected, she is in good physical shape, aside from the complications that came with age. Guess that means she really is in her early fifties. She is still cutie mark-less though—that was the whole reason she was in this room in the first place. I grimace. I still don’t know how Grogar convinced you to be here. As much as I want to just ask, I have a sinking feeling I will not find the answer reassuring. No knowledge in this case is probably the most ideal state of affairs.

I give her a nod and make my way out of the room. She keeps glaring at me as I close the door and leave her to her own business. I swear I can hear her say something, but the sound of clicks on the door drown that out.

Next, I open the young unicorn stallion’s room. He is plain brown coated, plain black maned, and just all around plain in physical build. His golden-toned eyes gave off a far more unnerving message than the older mare had though. I am shocked to find him wearing a formal suit and white tied shirt. He does know he can dress casual, right?

As soon as I set hoof on the room, he jumps off his cot had grabs me by the shoulders. “C-Comrade! D-did you h-hear that a-awful, awful voice c-coming from the s-speakers!” His voice—I’m reluctant to even call it that—is high-pitched, not to mention stuttery. Like he took too many blows to the head at one time. Had the room’s walls not been as thick as they were, his shouting would have probably carried all the way down the adjacent rooms and into the observation hub.

Once more, I answer with the first thing that pops into my head. “Yes, we’re aware there is a glitch with our PA system. We’re attempting to fix it right now. There’s nothing to worry about. Uh, comrade.”

The unicorn lets go of my shoulders, but keeps his eyes narrowed. He goes back to his cot and takes a seat, crossing his hooves while keeping his eyes darting back and forth. As he does that, I can’t help but set my gaze on his flank. Just as Grogar told me some weeks ago, his cutie mark was missing on both sides due to physical damage. I’m not sure just what happened, but if the scarring was any indication, it had not been something voluntary. Had it been an accident? Monster attack? Or, perhaps something more?

I spent the next ten minutes going over the young stallion’s vitals. It was taking longer than expected because of his agitated state. He continues to ask questions about the general safety of the procedure. I find it strange he doesn’t seem to care about the project in general. As he put it, he was in only to find a way to fix his cutie mark. Did Grogar lie to you? The project isn’t about healing missing cutie marks. Far from it.

Ten minutes pass by. “Your vitals check alright.” I start to put my instruments back into their bag. “If I can suggest something though. Relax. Stress is never good on the body.” Especially when part of that stress is warranted.

The unicorn sits back in his cot. “I-I-I don’t know, comrade. Something d-d-does not feel r-r-right.” He puts a hoof on his forehead. “B-but maybe you a-a-are right. Must relax b-b-before heart f-f-fails.”

I smile and give the young stallion a reassuring pat on the shoulder. One final nod, and I shut his bulwark and head to the next room.

I stop and sigh. I know that inside that room is a filly who’s probably scared and confused. Images of the last time I had dealt with somepony young flashes before me, making me go weak in the knees. I grimace and shake my head. Though he lived, I doubt he would ever be the same again. What a mess I made.

As my hoof hovers over the final lever to open the hatch, various scenarios start to play in my head, including one where the filly breaks into tears the instant I step in and I have to play ‘daddy’ to calm her down. My more rational side tells me that probably won’t be the case, considering she had approached the camera earlier to ask about the chanting. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I am the least qualified pony to be dealing with children.

I place my hoof on the lever and pull it. As soon as the hatch swings open, just about everything in my mind is completely subverted as a beige blur bounds right up to me, almost as if ready to pounce. She sets her cyan eyes on me.

“Doctor, doctor! Can you tell me what that scary goloss was? Was that Mr. Grogar? Was it a glitchy-glitch? Was it a poogly demon that you plan to feed us all to?”

I can’t help but lose my composure at the filly’s last question. “…What?”

The filly puts a hoof over her mouth and giggles. “Oh, appypolly loggy! Just being silly.” She then lets out a drawn-out sigh. “It’s sooo good to be able to be optimistic without getting into a drat! I didn’t even know that getting kicked for telling jokes was a pastime of Stalliongrad lewdies.”

“What?”

Another giggle, and the filly takes a step away from me. “Oh, nothing! Just using bit of Nadsat. And failing.” She stands there, staring at me. Somehow, her gaze seemed to look right through me. “So… what’cha doing?”

I straighten myself. “I’m going to run a routine medical check-up. Dr. Grogar’s request.”

The filly beams. “Horrorshow, then.” She covers her mouth. “Sorry, really need to stop with that.” She turns her head away from me. “Not on the streets anymore,” she hisses to herself.

“Come again?”

“Nothing!” The filly hops back into her cot and sits on her haunches. “Hope there’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t feel sick, but that doesn't mean I’m not sick.” She pauses, her expression losing some of its luster. “After all, Pa-pa was pretty healthy when he went to sleep.”

I hesitate on my movements at the words. “Sleep...?” I ask despite my better judgement.

The filly nods. “Yeah. He said he was going to lie down for a while. But then…” the filly’s gaze travels to the floor. “He never woke up. I shook him time and time again, but he just kept on snoozing, even if he wasn’t snoring anymore. After a few days, I knew he wasn’t going to wake up. He did leave enough food for me to get by for a bit, but after two weeks, his body started to get bloated. Oh, and the smell certainly wasn’t getting any better.” The filly snaps her eyes back at me, giving me a weak grin. “ ‘He must have really needed a bath!’ ” She laughs at her joke, but the chuckles don’t last long. Her expression starts to grow somber. “That’s what I told myself for almost a month. It’s been two years since then. I was so naive back then.”

“Don’t… you have relatives?” I ask, once again completely neglecting to remind myself that I’m not supposed to be attached to any of the test subjects.

“Father never told me what happened to them.” Her tone is far too optimistic for my comfort. “He just said they were all resting in the ‘peaceful place.’ Said that with luck, I would go there too, and soon.” She starts to cackle. I recoil at that. “Why not just tell me the truth? I could have handled it!” Her brow hardens. “Why lie to me? Bolnoy Ded!”

“Did… did you ever meet your mother?”

The filly snaps back to reality at my words. Her eyes lose their steel and her brow softens. “I. I don’t remember her. At all. Pa-pa said that she got really sick when I was a foal and went away to live with the rest of the family at the happy place. It must have been a really sad goodbye, since every time I asked, Pa-pa would cry for hours on end.”

Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare! DON’T YOU DARE! “Where did you live after your father… you know...?” GODS DAMMIT!!

The little filly’s smile fades as a distant, glossed-eyed gaze overtakes her. “ ‘Died’?” she finished my words. I only give her a nod in reply.

“Nowhere. I stayed in the same house until it was seized by the Stalliongrad Gvardiya. They didn’t even put me up for adoption. They just tossed me out into the streets alongside everything I had on me at the time.”

I grimace. “I’m. Sorry, to hear that.” I light my horn and place my medical bag next to her. The filly gives me a warm smile and a nod in reply. I reach for my stethoscope and put the buds in my ears. “Now, then. I need you to take a deep breath. Going to check your lungs.” I keep as straight a face as I can manage, but I’m finding it more and more difficult to do so consistently. Just do your job. That’s what you’re paid for. Do. Your. Job. And no more damn questions!

“You know the hardest part of growing up in the streets? It wasn’t getting food or finding shelter. Those things are easy to come by, provided you know how to play the cards right.” The corners of her lips start to rise as her eyes grow wide and sink, the life they had once bore fading and turning dull. “The hardest part of living in that city was finding people who cared.”

Here I stand, not only bearing the full knowledge that these poor souls will suffer in the very near future, but actively being a part of the process. And for what? Money? Fame? Vindication? I shut my eyes. Dammit, please, don’t do this to me. I have a good thing going on here! Why must you make me want to throw it all away? Before this, I was almost homeless. I had no prospect of a job and a happy future. I had nothing save the bitter memory of trying to help, and failing miserably! So what if somepony else gets hurt in the pursuit of progress? I deserve this! I DESERVE THIS!

“...But you’re a nice stallion, mister.” Her words snap me back to reality. I glance at the youngling. Her expression had changed to a wide closed-eyed beam; the kind only a filly could give to a stallion who had damned himself. “Thank you… for caring.” She finishes, opening her eyes and allowing her cheery expression to lessen.

Despite the corners of my lips wanting to rise, I take a deep breath and force myself back to work. I try to ignore the warm feelings now spreading all over my chest. Don’t let another sob story sign your death warrant! You. Do. Not. CARE!

Over the next five minutes, I continue running basic tests on the filly. She’s underweight and a bit anemic, but her lungs and heart work fine. There doesn’t appear to be issues with any of her extremities either, which was very good news considering her life on the streets. Still need to run a blood sample to find out if she has any more serious issues where a physical can’t see. I reach into my bag and pull out a small syringe. The filly recoils at the sight of it. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s only going to hurt for a bit.”

She covers her right shoulder with her left hoof and snarls. “I. Don’t. Like. Sharp. Things!”

I roll my eyes and extend a hoof over to her. “I can’t say this won’t hurt. Because it will; a lot. But, I can at least promise that it will be over quick.”

The filly glares at the needle, utterly hesitant to do as I ask at first. But the more she looks, the softer her glare becomes, until finally, she sighs and places her hoof on mine. “I hope you aren’t lying.”

“Like I said, this will be over quick. Just take a deep breath and don’t think about it.”

She does just as I ask and looks away, shutting her eyes as tight as possible. “Just... get it over with.”

I levitated the syringe and place it over the inner elbow vein. “Alright, at the count of three.” I gently put the needle on the skin. I can see the goosebump that runs right up her foreleg and into the shoulder. “Ready?”

The filly nods, still keeping her head turned away from me. I take a deep breath to steady the nerves and start to count. “One…” soon as I end my word, I plunged the needle in, breaking right through the skin and muscle and into the vein.

“Yeouch!!” the filly shouts, but by that time, the needle’s already in. Within seconds, the syringe starts filling with blood. I bring out a cotton swab dipped in rubbing alcohol and press hard over the wound to stop any further bleeding. “What happened to ‘two’ and ‘three’?!”

“You would have been expecting that. By skipping the countdown, I subverted your expectations. Didn’t hurt as much as you expected, right?”

“Yeah… I guess.” She puffs up her cheeks and gives me her best glare. “Still hurt though!”

I shake my head and allow myself a grin. I pull the needle out and pressed harder on the wound. The mixture of pressure and alcohol make sure the puncture closes. “See, wasn’t so bad, right?”

The filly doesn’t say anything, but her soft smile tells me she’s in agreement. “Doctor?” She starts, her eyes never quite meeting mine. “I… just realized that this whole time, we’ve not been properly introduced... That’s, uh... rude of me.”

My eyes widen. Oh no. No, no, no, no. NO!

She extended her foreleg—the same one I had used to extract the blood sample—and presents her hoof. “My name’s Sun Beam—though, you can just call me ‘Sunny’ if you want!”

Reluctantly, I place my own hoof on her’s and shake it. Gently, so as to make sure I don’t agitate the already punctured limb. I say nothing, however. What can I say to her?

“Aren’t you going to give me your name?” She asks, eyeing me with a sickly sweet beam.

I divert my gaze for a second. No! I’m not supposed to! I’m not supposed to— I cut myself off with an exhale and turn back to the filly, smiling as cheerfully as I can, given the circumstances. “Briar. Briar Ghaster PhD.”

The filly raises an eyebrow. “That’s... an odd name.”

I roll my eyes. “Parents were not very imaginative. Not like it’s my fault.”

“Why not change it?”

“Because…” I rub the back of my head. “I. I kinda like it.” This time, I’m unable to hide the blush that no doubt was on my face. “Names grow on you, ya know. Besides, it’s much better than being named after an object or feeling.” I shoot Sun a glance. “Or in your case, an event that may or may not be celestial in nature.”

Sun crossed her hooves and scrunches her snoot. “You’re just jealous because I have the cooler name!”

I chuckle. “Sure.” I start to pack my tools. I have what I need. “Well, it seems you’re in a good place right now. Health-wise, that is.” You. Do. Not. Care. “Just make sure you listen to everything Dr. Grogar says—” You. Do. Not. Care. You. Do. Not. Care. You. Do. Not. Care. “—and you’ll be fine!” I bite my lower lip and silently gulp. “D-do stay out of trouble, young lady.”

The filly snickers. “Sure thing, Pa-pa!”

Everything stops in its tracks. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at the words. I glance back at Sunny, who is looking at me with the same shocked expression on her face. She has a hoof over her mouth and eyes that seem ready to tear up.

“W-what did you say...?”

The filly’s cheeks grow rosy as she turns away from me. “N-nothing. J-just a slip. Of the tongue!” She turns back to face me with a wide beam. “Thanks you for everything, Mr. Briar.”

“N-no problem.” I give Sun a smile of my own.

I turn away to hide the sweat now streaming down my face. It’s too late to change anything, I think to myself as I step out of the room. Too late to go back on what has been set into motion. I hear the door click shut just as I place a hoof on the nearest wall. My head’s swimming and swirling now. No. This is how it has to be. We’ve—I’ve—come too far to back out! Progress has to be paid in some way. Nothing can be gained without first giving something in return! That’s the law! T-that’s—that’s the law…

I take a deep breath and straightened myself, adjusting the collar of my labcoat and the tie of the suit I wore underneath. I continue past the other two doors and into the labyrinthine hall. Sweat dripping down my… eyes?

Perhaps it is too late for me and for everypony here. And maybe, just maybe…

“...It has always been too late,” Briar whispers before allowing himself a chuckle. It is deep, ominous, yet holds no form of deception that I can perceive.

That, more than anything, unsettles me.

I keep as straight a face as I can despite all the information Briar has divulged so far. Somehow, just the act of keeping my emotions from showing was one of the greatest challenges I had ever undertaken. If not, then it at least stood shoulder to shoulder with the likes of battling Tirek and enduring Discord’s antics on a daily basis.

I feel my brow crease as my thoughts turned to that ‘god’ of chaos. Speaking of which. Where is that buffoon anyway? He’s running late! A part of me will never be used to it. Sure, he isn’t harmful anymore—his betrayal at the hands of Tirek really doing a number on his personality—but that didn’t make him less annoying. Still, he is supporting my plans and is the vanguard of the excursion teams. I just wish he would stop brandishing that stupid cane.

I put away all thoughts of Discord and turn back to Briar just as he opens his mouth to say something. But just as suddenly, he lets out several coughs. He covers his mouth with his hooves, the final cough being more of a hack. I notice though, that in the second it took for him to regain his breath, he had lowered his hoof and had wiped it on his coat. But… I could have sworn I saw something black. There was no residue on his coat, however. Maybe it’s just my imagination.

He groans, licking his lips and grinning. “You know, I think I may need a couple more minutes and some more water. Would you be so kind?”

I give the doctor a nod and once again call for the guards. To my shock, it isn’t a golden or navy-blue garbed pony that enters the room holding a jug of water, but Discord of all beings. I almost jump out of my seat to scold him for his entry when he walks right past me and places the jug on the table. No witty quip, no attempt to show off with his power—not even his trademark goofy grin. He just looks at Briar with what I can only describe as… pity?

He snaps me out of my stupor by placing his claw on my shoulder. “I need a word with you.”

I glare at him. In his eyes, I see something I hadn’t seen since Tirek’s betrayal: pain and fear. It catches me off-guard. I nod and turn back to Briar. “It seems I’m needed. I’ll be back.”

Briar has already picked up the jug and was pouring himself a glass of water, nodding to me while he emptied the cup into his mouth. With Briar’s nod of agreement as my cue, I follow Discord outside. Four guards came into the room on cue and stand sentry.

As soon as Discord and I have stepped outside the interrogation room, I turn to him with a grimace. “You’re late! You were supposed to be my back up in this interrogation!” I walk up to him and glare daggers. “What happened?”

Discord glances to the side. “I... won’t apologize. You know that already.”

I harden my glare.

“However, there is a good reason why I’m late... “ He finally set his gaze on mine. “And that’s why I needed to talk to you.”

“Well, I’m listening.”

“Well, remember how we originally said we could not get into the caved-in sections of the bunker without more diggers?”

I jab my hoof into his abdomen. “Only because a certain somepony was too lazy to use his magic at the time!”

“Princess, I can’t believe how much animosity you have towards me!” Discord scoffs. He places a hand on his forehead. “Whatever happened to being a reasonable leader?”

I raise an eyebrow. “That may work on Fluttershy, but it’s not going to work on me.”

Discord grouses, his expression going flat. “I didn’t help out entirely because of laziness—though I cannot deny that there wasn’t any present—you know.” Discord’s gaze darkens. “There was something in that place that interfered with my magic. Your’s too; something I hadn’t felt for a very long time.”

I sigh. “Yeah… I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that…” I groan as I start to pace back and forth. “This is the first thing I—we—have to deal with, and it’s already taxing us beyond our capabilities! Talking to that doctor has shaken some of my beliefs in the world, and I know it’s only going to get worse from here on end.” I stop and set my gaze on him. “I’m sorry if I am coming off as antagonistic—though you can’t completely blame me, considering your track record.”

Discord sniggers. “Oh, don’t worry about little ol’ me. I’m used to being scorned at this point.” His expression deflates. “After all, it’s only fair after the whole debacle with Tirek. We reap the harvest we sow, after all.”

“Well, you were the one who decided to betray us. You should be thankful Celestia is not the kind of pony to hold grudges. Though I can’t talk for Luna or Cadence.”

Discord grimaces. “And it would all have been fine and dandy if Tirek had kept his word! I mean, if I had just a fraction of my old power back, I could have easily vanquished that traitor to Tartarus myself!” He laughs softly, but clears his throat when his eyes fall back on me. “But, it was for the better that he turned on me. Some people—even gods—need to get sense knocked back into them from time to time. I’d do it all over again if I had the chance.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Betraying us, getting your power sucked out, and being forced to grovel at the hooves of a demon lord bent on the conquest of everything?”

Discord smiles. “Like I said,” he taps his head a few times. “Hard knocks.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. Discord really had changed for the better since that day. Then again, it could have been the fact that he saw just how he had hurt Fluttershy. I dreaded to think how things would have turned out had she not originally showed him what he had been missing all along. He’d probably still be a statue in Celestia’s garden.

“But enough about that.” Discord’s tone and expression grows graver. “About the ‘thing’ you have to see.”

“What is it?”

Discord shakes his head, smile and optimism gone in an instant. “I… can’t do it justice. You just have to see it for yourself.”

I gulp and give Discord a nod. Here I am, getting told by a reality-altering god of chaos and mischief that he had come across something that unsettled even him.

The thought alone terrifies me. Still, as head of the ERDSCP, I have to see it and evaluate it.

I turn back to the guards. All of them had been oddly calm about Discord’s presence. I recall a time they would have given their all to put him down, even knowing full well they would not even come close to touching him. Times really have changed.

“Alright, lead the way.”

Discord snaps his fingers and teleports the two of us.

Discord and I reappear in a bright white room. When my eyes finally adjust to the light, I instantly recognized the location as one of the dozens of holding chambers built right into the subterranean levels of the Canterlot Palace, one level below the long since re-commissioned as storage space dungeons. All rooms had been mandated—and then enchanted—by Celestia herself. If something is put inside one of the cells, it was not getting out.

Past the enchanted glass pane and into the sterile white walls and floor, sat a figure. Despite the amount of light flooding in from the artificial sunlight emanated by walls and floor, the being remained shrouded in what almost appeared to be liquid shadows. The pool of oil-like blackness extended some distance away from the entity, swirling as if stirred by some unseen force. Occasionally, something like a tendril or suspiciously eye-shaped bubble of viscous liquid rose to the surface before settling back into the puddle.

Something else seemed to be moving though. On closer inspection, I realize one of the tendrils is holding on to a box of crayons, one of which was being used to draw on piece of paper. Paper that rested right on top of the puddle of black muck. Somehow though, the paper remained untouched, even when a bubble of tar-like substance popped next to it. None of the droplets of black ever stuck to it. They just slid right off. It was almost like watching liquid mercury being moved around by a magnet.

The entity is, to my complete shock, humming something to itself. The voice is difficult to describe. It almost sounds like the voice of a child, though I could not determine a gender. Mixed along with that was the sound of something being processed through a DJ’s echo filter. Still, something about the tone makes me feel soothed.

“What… in the wide, wide, wide world of Equestria.... is that?” I find myself uttering to no nopony in particular.

“That, my dear princess, is the reason I was late.” Discord’s tone lacks most of its usual mocking timbre. It instead come off as straightforward. I don’t think I have ever heard that kind of tone from him.

“H-how…?”

Discord places a claw on his chin. “Truth be told, I don’t really remember how. It all blurred together like that one Gala, only without so much smooze ooze to clean up afterwards.” He laughs, but each giggle out of his lips sounds uneasy. “The important part is that we found her and, thanks to my skill, got her here without issue.”

“ ‘Her’?” I ask, jaw growing slacker with every passing minute.

“That’s what she said. You can ask if you don’t believe me.” Discord motions to the entity.

I take a deep breath and step closer to the glass. The being within takes notice. It raises its head—or what I hope is a head and not something else—and stops coloring the drawing. “Wha-wha…” I catch myself and change the question. “W-who are you?”

The being places the crayon box down on top of the paper and sits straight.

“͕̦̣A̠r̜͔͉̥̭͕e̫̣ͅ ͔̩͕̮̻̰y̘͔̖͍̥͉̼ͅo͖̬̹̟̟̥̬̥u̪̩…̣͎̜̹ ̜̠̣

S͙͓̝̰̞̗p͙̤̜͚͚ͅa̺͓̬͎̣̳r͉̟̦̬͖k͕̫̥͙̻̞̖l̹̣e̻̝̱̟͈?̯͎̝̥̫̫̱̫”̻̣̞̤̲̺͖̮̰

The voice rings in every possible direction. It takes me a few seconds to conclude that the entity was somehow speaking directly into my mind. “Y-yes. I am indeed Princess Twilight Sparkle. And you are?”

The being stands up, her weight shifting the mass of black underneath.

“̻.͍̫͕̺̙̹͚̗.̘͕͍̩̖.͚̤̪u̬͚̗̞̦̤̣̙s̳̦ḛ̱d̫̮͎͈ ̘t̻̥̣̭̞͈̜ͅo͎ͅ ̪̱̘ͅh̠̮a͚̠v͚͔̥̬̩̺e͕̘͚̺͓̲͎…̟̼̞̙̪͓ ̞̞̜͔n̦̼̣̻̻̭͙̦̻a̭̯̩̣̪m͙̻͖͖̮e͖̻.̫͍̠̣̥̰ ͕̙͙̼͖̼ͅ
̠̙̲̬̠̟͖̝̳

̪̗̟̫͕
Ma̩n͉̬̲͕͉͙y͎̣̭͉ ̣̻̮͓̗͕̯̱t̙͍̞͚̳͉ͅh͈͕̘̩̻͇͈̠i̼̗ͅn̼g̗̠s̰̺̝̻͙͖̙͈.

She places one of her ‘hooves’ on her ‘head.’

“̤͍̣ͅI͉̪͙͎͖͙͈̟-͉ͅI̹̗̙̬̞̞-͈͚̭̩͉I̹̩̝̭͙̱̞…̗͔̱̖̣ ͚̝͖͇̣͖r̮̫̺e̬̩̟̫̺̗m͍̯e͎̠m̼̲͍̩̖̮̘̻͉b̠̗͖e̳͚͎̠̮̺̪r̰̝̺͈̮͍͍ͅ…̼̝̥͇̳̜̪͚͔ ̻̯̰̯̞̮̝̤b̖͍̦ͅl̳͔͕̜̘a̭̼̟͖̹c̞̣̝͖̤̝͙k̠̯̜̳ ̣̲̯v͍͓o͓͕̞̮̟̙̳̩i͎̖͉̮̫̲ḓ̭̺̝̹…̮̫̣̗ ̦͚d̜̦͚a̪͎͍̤r̬̦̜̫̰͍ͅk̲̣n̤̗̖̦̫̼̮e̠̪s̘̥̝̬̹͖s̞̙͓̭̟͔̤.̫͉ ̮͓
̯̠̠̫͚̬͎͙

̭̖̩͎͚
̹̖̪̣͓̣̦̺ͅW̭͕͙̳ͅi͎͍͚̳͚͔͎̮t̞̬͎̦̩h̖̝̜̣̙̱̜̳ͅo͎͖u̲̬̠̭̪̝̭t̠̣͓̪-̦̺̯͉̤̩͍̰ͅw̪͈̩̲͎͈͖i̘̳͇̻t̮̻̗̣̫̳̻̝̼h͎̮̣o̟͚̯̜͔͖u͖͇͙͔̱̬t͈̫̖̳ ̤̞̖͈̦͙p͔͔̟̺-̝̱p̫̦̥-̲̹̯p͚̭̦͇u̩͍̺r̙̪͕̖̥̩̞p̝̲̣̼̗͔͙̬̘o͓̭̩s̺e̼̤̼̱̫.͎̬̟̭͍ ͔̬̫
͕͚̝̠

̩̤͇̙̼̫
̘̹͕̫̭̦͚W̰͖͇͎-̲̗̯̯w̠͍̼̝͓͕̫̬h̫͓̗̙a̯̬͉̱t͔̜…̗̻̺̭ ̤͍̩ͅw̘͔̬̱h̗̬̦o̹̖̺̤͈…͔͉̝̱͖̦͙ ̳̥̭̲̩͔ͅͅw̥̫͕̯h̰͖̻y̠̙̟͇̣͈̲̭̠…͉̘̼̖̝?̰̳̰͍͍”̲͓̻̪̞̳̳

She shakes her head, finally turning around to face me. I recoil away from the sight, bumping into Discord. The beings lips quiver and twist. Finally, out of the constantly fluxing facade, a set of ‘eyes’ appear. Cyan pony eyes.

“̗̟̯ͅD͓̖̫̞̟͓o̳ ̲̖͖͍ḵ̬̺̳̗͓̝n̠̤̰̟o̭w͍̭̖…͔͕̼͈̯͚͖ ͖̫̠͚̗̤̞s̗͉͚o̞̗m͕͈e̤̟͓̗̦͎͔o̠̦̖͇̣̪̺̠n̮̩̠͈͔e̤̱…̹̱̳͚ ͈̫̺r̳̬͖e͚̗͉̺̻ͅm͎̰̳̫̣e͉̣̣̬̤̪̜̜m͉ḇ̜͔̙̺̞͇͙e͎̝r̠̮̱̼̥̯͔͚s̭̙̭͔͚.͈̣ ̫̳̖̯̤̭̟̬
̩̞͎̩

̦̘͎̮̹
̫̞D̬̮̫͍͕̲̥-̺͉̖̩̹̠̮ͅd͕̰͕̱̥͚̣̬-͓̩d̬͇̟̭͉e͓̞͇̯̩͙̳̞a̙̩͍r̳͚̣̗̝͖̫̫ ͖̬̣̪̗̟͓ͅf̣̲̹̭̙͉͍r͔̯̬̞̮̲i͎͔̤̲̭̤e̼ṉ̹̪̮͕̖͇d͙̞̖͍͉̟̻.̹̭͍̜̲͎̼ͅ ̪̯̘̭̫
͕͖͚̭̻̺̬̰

̰͎̟̘͎͖̟
̗̠̙̙͔̝ Bu̲̪͈̳t͓͎̲̥͔̭̺̖͖…̙̖̞̞̹͔̙ ̪̳̱̣̯̫̦u͙̭̭͓̱͕̮s̻̩̦h̝̹̰e̯̘̳̹̟r͈e̗r̦̺̙.̣͉͓͍̰̼ͅ ̥͕̠̳͚
̙͍̤͓̩̦͙̰ͅ

I take a deep and very difficult breath. “A-and, who is this… pony...?”

The being’s face lights up, eyes growing to the size of teacup plates. A wide toothy grin forms from the tar-like void that was her face, supplanting the former mouth—which twists and swirls until it is consumed by the emerging facade. Teeth—or rather, what would have been teeth, had they not appeared to be jagged pieces of sharpened ivory—formed into a cheshire grin as she spoke the word without ever moving her new ‘lips’: