With ‘confiscated’ funds that Sullen Hoof acquired overnight from the gang that had attacked them, the circle paid for the repairs to the tenement and equally paid out Sunrise Glow’s rent for a whole year, ensuring that they always had a place to live in Great Forks. One of Sunrise Glow’s cultists, a potter pony with a clay bowl for a cutie mark, was allowed to live in and maintain the flat while the circle was off finding the changeling’s pennants, as well as later when the circle would head to the manse.

Before leaving, Cash bought everypony saddlebags, and on Sunrise and Speaker’s request he also bought some blank books and scrolls. Sunrise apparently wanted to spend her time on the road writing the scripture of Celestia, while Speaker wanted to get started on that manual of exalted power of his. Red wasn’t certain if it was a good idea to commit the power of Solars to writing, as the dragon-blooded might find them and use it against all Solars, but Speaker was certain that that wouldn’t be an issue: “If anything, they might read this and come to their senses, seeing that we aren’t a threat if not attacked – us not really being ponies possessed by evil demons and all”

Red found Speaker’s idea of a manual silly, pointing out that the immaculates would simply blacklist it and demand every copy that comes into territories they influence destroyed: “Hey, it’s your waste of time – not mine”.

Following the directions of the changeling, whose name appeared to be Hahn-Hanar, the way to the freehold where the apprentice Hahn-Lee was would take a few days of travel to get to, plus the circle had to pass over the ten-mile wide yellow river.

Peering out from the shore, Cash marveled as the morning sun rippled over the calm river waters. The river was so wide that you couldn’t see the other side, appearing as an endless sea. Many less-informed peasant ponies probably thought the same.

As for how to cross the river, there weren’t many options. Most ponies would use prams or boats. The only known bridge across was six-hundred miles downriver at Nexus, which was part of why Nexus was such a great and aptly-named center of trade in the east and the river provinces. The problem was that the circle had no boats.

“We could always go back to Great Forks and buy passage at the docks?” Cash suggested, wishing that they had thought of this a little sooner instead of blindly following the changeling’s directions.

From out in the river, up to her neck in water, Shimmer called out: “Hey everypony – I got this.”

Shimmer then transformed into a giant western turtle, with a shell wide enough to load a wagon onto or strap a howdah onto. Swimming in to shore, Shimmer, in giant turtle form, somehow spoke to the circle and had them jump on.

Speaker had to admit that it was a really strange experience, while Cash was far more curious in asking what other kinds of animals Shimmer could turn into. Shimmer said that she could do most of the marine life of the mid-west, plus a few birds and small land animals.

“What about something useful if we need to move a lot of goods around? Like a yeddim?” Cash wondered.

The giant turtle shook, causing everyone to stagger a little: “Do you have any idea how boring it would be to perform a sacred hunt on a yeddim? They’re just big, dumb and boring. Find me a tyrant lizard or a southern fire salamander, now that I’ll gladly hunt and drink the blood of.”

Shimmer explained that to be able to shapeshift into something, a Lunar had to perform a sacred hunt – a simple but time-consuming ritual hunt to learn all the ways of the animal she hunted. Then one simply had to kill the animal and drink some of its blood: “…Although, if it’s tasty enough, I don’t settle with just the blood... like this turtle. It was very tasty”

A few hours later, the sun sitting high in the sky, the giant turtle reached the northern shore of the yellow river. The directions that Hahn-Hanar had given said that the freehold would be two days travel on hoof north of where the circle was now, so Cash figured it to be around sixty miles away.

“You shouldn’t happen to have a form that would allow for swift travel on land?” Speaker wondered.

Shimmer said that she could fly fairly quickly in her various bird forms, although for long distance travel she preferred aquatic forms, as that took much less energy and was far more inconspicuous – unless a fisherpony caught you: “It’s a little embarrassing when that happens.”

The conclusion was that the circle had to travel on hoof for the time being, although Cash said that he was very certain that back in the first age this still wouldn’t have been a problem: “I… it’s like I just can’t remember how, or what we’d usually do… gah, this is really annoying.” he said, rubbing his temples while sitting down for a moment.

“I know the feeling.” Speaker said, having already lost count of the many times when he thought he could remember some spectacular bit of first age trivia, only to find it too vague, faint or wrapped up in symbolism and memories that just didn’t make sense.

Watching as Shimmer changed back into a pony from her giant turtle form, Sunrise noted that upon exalting she’d been gifted with knowledge of emerald circle sorcery, including how to conjure up a small cloud to fly around on: “It’s just not that big. Four ponies might be able to squeeze together on it, but six will not fit.”

Speaker was about to comment on something about sorcery, when he noticed that Shimmer seemed a lot smaller than usual. She was bigger than Sunrise, but not by much, although she was still proportioned like an adult pony so she didn’t really look like a filly: “Shimmer, you look… smaller.”

Looking down at herself Shimmer sighed: “Figures I’d forget it sooner or later.” It turned out that Shimmer, being a tribal pony, had not really benefited from the perks that more civilized ponies tend to take for granted as she grew up. Things like knowledge of how to design a balanced diet, or proper medical care, plus a handful of other factors mostly related to old tribal customs had stunted Shimmer’s growth at various stages of her foal-hood.

“The adult form I have is actually one that a very dear friend of mine sort of… made… for me, which I hunted and got the heartblood for.” Shimmer said, well aware of how odd that sounded.

Sullen Hoof was quick to pick up on the detail of the heartblood: “Hold on, so you hunted and killed an innocent pony just so you could appear as a fully grown pony? That’s horrible.”

“The ‘thing’ I drank the blood of was a hollow thing of flesh – it wasn’t a pony. It was a… blank copy from an elder Lunar who knew how to make such things” Shimmer argued, displaying a jaded side of her that none of the others had seen before.

Trotting around the diminutive mare Sullen Hoof wondered out loud how many other ponies Shimmer had cannibalized so she could assume their forms. Shimmer changed back into her ‘adult’ form and reminded Sully in an irritated and angered voice that sacred hunts for ponies follow the same rules, but are only all the more complicated: “Learning how an animal behaves is easy. With enough general knowledge on animal behavior you can finish a sacred hunt in just under an hour – but with ponies… you have to learn who they really are, how they behave, how they act, who they know, who knows the pony, everything – and that can take weeks of observation, or a few days of intensive interrogation and torture, but I’ve never done that…”

Looking over at Speaker, who was clearly concerned, Shimmer smiled: “In fact, after a long time I was able to refine my essence to the point that could learn some of the most advanced form-taking techniques – such as the one that merely requires me to sleep with another pony…” as she changed into a perfect copy of Speaker, her – his – clothes even changing from Shimmer’s usual choice of violet vest and equally violet fishnet draped over her back and flank changing into an exact copy of Speaker’s old Lookshyan uniform that he still wore.

“I don’t enjoy killing ponies, never have. In the west I’ve spent over half a century protecting pony settlements and tribes from slavers, pirates and changelings, so don’t think I’m some barbarian tribal that eats ponies for the heck of it.” Shimmer-Speaker said, Speaker finding it incredibly weird to see ‘himself’ speak to him. Sullen Hoof nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

Shaking off a creepy shiver, Speaker asked Shimmer to change back, which she did with no further fanfare, her body once again dissolving into a silvery pony-shaped fluid for a few seconds as it shrank and rearranged itself into a her adult mare form.

“Now, to change the subject – just like Sunrise Glow, I too am initiated into sorcery, but I have been initiated into the higher sapphire circle. I know a spell that will get us to the freehold in just under an hour, how does that sound?” Shimmer confidently said, skipping over a few yards and jumping into the water.

A white light with a bluish tinge erupted underwater, and a thick white fog began forming over the surface.
“I do believe that this is our ride.” Speaker said, recognizing the spell from his first-age memories, even though he in reality knew next to nothing about sorcery. He stepped up on the blanket of mist as it thickened and rose up, forming a ground-level cloud. Shimmer then appeared out of the water, floating up to the surface of the cloud. She explained that since sorcery has the fun side effect of flaring ones anima, she found it much more subtle to shape the spell underwater.

With everyone aboard, the cloud rose up in the sky and rocketed north at breath-taking speeds, not that anyone on the cloud could feel it, but looking down over the edge of the cloud revealed the land bellow zooming by at a velocity that just wasn’t natural for a pony to move at.

Sunrise Glow was understandably intrigued by Shimmer revealing herself to be a sorceress. Cash didn’t see why sorcery
was supposed to be that different from the magic they had been doing up until now – but Sunrise quickly explained that: “Sorcery transcends what your exaltation allows. A unicorn, or a Lunar or a Solar can all learn the same sorcerous spells – but they can’t learn each others native charms, as they’re defined by our exaltations. I know how to banish first circle demons, do the most basic of countermagic, turn my hide into bronze for protection and summon a much smaller cloud than this – by the way, Shimmer, how big can you make this?”

Standing in a state of deep concentration, Shimmer didn’t turn to face Sunrise, but did say that she could easily expand the cloud to fit around half a thousand ponies, or an equal volume of goods, on the cloud. Cash suddenly found the idea of sorcerous clouds much more appealing: “Hey, trafficking freight at speeds like this would be worth a lot of silver – when we get back to Great Forks we could probably out-bid the guild caravan to ship up all that medicine!”

Red liked the idea, but Speaker quickly noted that the guild wasn’t likely to let a contract go without a fight – plus doing so would probably reveal Shimmer as a Lunar to the guild, making them want to either ‘buy her’ or get rid of the competition by informing the wyld hunt of her presence.

“So? They’ve undoubtedly heard of you by now Speaker – you could just take credit for her conjuring up a cloud – we get paid and get to save more ponies, I don’t see the problem.” Cash stated, ever confident in his own plans.

Speaker then tried to calculate in his head the probable tonnage for enough medicine to help an entire kingdom of plague-ridden ponies. He didn’t even have to spend essence to double-check his numbers before Cash was convinced that the cloud wouldn’t be enough.

It was a moot point though – as Shimmer announced that they had arrived near the freehold.

The Freehold, a warped demesne transformed by changelings, was part of a strangely normal-looking grassy hill, at least on the outside. It was a small mound of dirt with a three yard wide hole leading down into what appeared to be a dark cavern. On top of it a tree twisted and thrashed around, its branches seemingly alive with the intense flows of natural wood-aspected essence coursing through it – the tree dancing with movements that adhered to a twitchy and alien sense of aesthetics.

Around the mound, at a safe distance, wooden stakes marked a perimeter around the freehold, no doubt set up by fearful locals to show others not to enter. Small iron baubles and homemade wards hung around the stakes. Speaker guessed that if any of the locals were literate they would put up signs with warnings as well.

“If the pones that live around here are this afraid of the place, we should go ask around – we need to know what we’re getting into. There might be a changeling court down there.” Shimmer suggested, having had plenty of experience dealing with changelings back home west.

Red wanted to charge in, but saw the wisdom in getting information on enemy forces first.

“We don’t know if they’re hostile – if these changelings are affiliated with the Hahn-hanar changeling they have gone native as well. No sense picking a fight when diplomacy can finish the job quicker” Sunrise Glow noted as the cloud began to descend.

Shimmer dissolved the cloud near a small settlement close to the freehold. Speaker had identified the demesne as wood aspected, which explained the nearby farms: All that wood aspected essence concentrated in the area made plants grow much bigger and faster than they normally would, although Speaker was quick to note that it probably wasn’t that safe to eat the local produce either.

This last detail sorely disappointed Cash, who was gazing with greedy eyes at a pumpkin patch with pumpkins the size of adult ponies. There were other fruits and vegetables growing in the surrounding farmlands that were bigger than normal, but when the circle met the ponies that lived in the area it became clear what danger of eating the wyld-tainted food was.

The farmer ponies that the circle met were friendly enough, but their hooves appeared wooden – with their elders even sounding as if they ‘creaked’ when they walked. The ponies here were turning into living wood! Cash definitely didn’t want to sell any of their produce at that point. Sunrise applauded Cash for his honesty, although Cash refused to admit that it was for any care over the wellbeing for other ponies: “It’s just bad business to sell wyld-tainted food.”

One thing the farmers did point out was that one of the mares from the settlement had gone missing recently, and they feared that the changelings in the freehold had taken her. The elder that told them, Gerda Gourd, said that the missing mare was her daughter: “She’s been gone for almost a moon, and the gods haven’t answered our prayers…”

“I promise you, we will find your daughter – but tell me, do you have anything of hers? Something with her scent?” Speaker said, holding Gerda’s wooden hooves tightly, then looking over at Shimmer.

Shimmer seemed amused that Speaker thought she could be his scent-tracker, pointing out that she was mostly used to doing that in water, but she did know a charm that would let her track this lost pony – if the locals had something with her scent.

After the elder and some of the other farmer-ponies looked around, a colored ribbon was found that the missing mare used to tie her mane up with. Shimmer got her scent and the hunt was on. To nopony’s surprise it lead to the perimeter around the freehold, where she ended her tracking: “The wood essence here stinks of changeling.”

Before going in, the circle reviewed what they were going to do. Sunrise explained that she knew a charm that would protect her against changeling shaping attacks. It turned out that Cash knew nothing of what shaping combat was…

“Changelings don’t work like ponies. Their lives are based on a never-ending story: If the story ends they end. In the wyld they shape the areas and other changelings around them to fit their story, and they do the same to ponies in creation – but that’s only half of it.” Sunrise noted.

Rubbing his temples in confusion, Cash wondered what exactly what Hahn-Hanar’s story was.

“No clue – but that’s only half of it.” Sunrise began, conjuring up transparent images of ponies alongside images of jagged and weird shapes that looked like strange attempts at making pony-looking figures. “Since they aren’t really native to creation, they can’t work without making an ‘assumption’, a fake body of their own design. This also puts a shape on their mind.”

“Right, can you cut to the chase here? This place is creeping me out.” Sullen Hoof interrupted, fidgeting with one of wooden stakes making up the perimeter and the rusty iron baubles tied to it with leather string.

Shimmer stepped inside the perimeter: “It’s simple. Entering creation from the wyld, they basically make their own bodies and the ‘pattern’ they’ll think with – if you want to be an unbeatable swords-pony, make a body of a warrior and a mind that only thinks in carnage. It is usually an assumption that fits their story, and they’ll reshape everything and everypony around them to fit it – like making you into an adoring fan by draining your will and making you beholden to them, or make you quick to anger so you can become one of many feeble foes who’ll die by the changeling’s blade by the thousand. I’ve seen it happen so many times. Oh yes, and the only way they can replenish their powers is to feed off the dreams and emotions of ponies, but honestly that’s the least of what they do if you ask me.”

Shaking her body about a little, Shimmer terminated a charm that hid her moonsilver tattoos. The charm was handy when moving around in civilized society, as not everypony liked the idea of silvery anathema in their neighborhood: “My tattoos protect me from most shaping attacks – sunrise’s charm should cover her as well. For the rest of you, be careful… be VERY careful – and don’t do anything I don’t do.”

“Hold on, I think we’re good.” Speaker noted, looking thoughtful. He explained that thinking about meeting changelings had jostled up an old first age memory. Apparently, Eclipse caste Solars, being heavenly diplomats, had some kind of mystic diplomatic immunity when it came to dealing with changelings... so if Cash led them inside as his entourage, the changeling literally couldn't harm them, as long as they obeyed certain unspoken rules of politeness for guests.

With that settled, Cash cautiously led the others down into the freehold – which at first seemed completely dark, but then opened up into a vast and endless hall, with a ceiling far higher than what the dimensions of the mound should allow – it was obviously changeling glamour and illusions. The floor was tiled with strange yellow stones polished to a mirror shine, so was the ceiling. Glowing crystal growths in the ceiling shed a bright white light, illuminating a grand table made of a huge solid chunk of black granite, decorated with swirly patterns carved into the surface.

However, the real sight was what was on the table. A seemingly endless array of meat dishes, smelling absolutely divine, still steaming ever so slightly – decorated with impossible vegetables of strange shapes and sizes and delectable side dishes that smelled simply divine. It was a feasting table fit for gods and very obviously not made by ponies.

The circle approached the table, as there was nothing else in the vast expanse.

“There should be a bonfire somewhere here – the pennants would be inside, that’s the heart of the freehold.” Shimmer noted.

Running a hoof over the table, marveling at the physics-defying details of shifting carvings of the stone surface, Cash noticed that the table was warmer than the floor: “Hey guys, can this bonfire be inside something? Like… in a stove?”

“It might, although I’m more surprised that you know what a stove is – they aren’t that common outside of Lookshy or places with intact shogunate or first-age buildings – most ponies just just cook at the hearth.” Sullen Hoof noted, sniffing around at the meat dishes.

The circle began looking closer at the solid stone table. It honestly looked like a huge square slab of black stone, covered in food. A curious detail was that the dishes that the food were on were even made out of meat, somehow remaining as solid as porcelain.

Suddenly a thunderous voice boomed out, and part of the endless room on the opposing side of the table to the exit from the freehold was suddenly filled with a hazy cloud of oily fumes: “Ah, guests – come, feast at my table.”

The cloud solidified in certain places, revealing two eyes made of spheres of amber oil. Around the table wide charms of stone rose up from the ground.

“Nopony do anything – Cash, talk to this… thing.” Sunrise Glow ordered, looking at the cloud and oily eyes with a grim determination that was entirely unfit for a filly, soon-to-be-mare, of Sunrise’s age. Speaker said nothing, but decided that if they lived through this he would definitely want to know more about why Sunrise acted so grim.

Cash stepped forward: “Greetings, I am Cash Charmer, Solar Eclipse by grace of Celestia – and in who’s grand hall might we be in?”

The oily eyes floated down to Charmer, orbiting each other to the point that looking at them made one dizzy. It then somehow emitted a voice that was even louder than before, sounding as if it came from every direction: “I am the Great Unshaped – The giver of gifts and granter of feasts.”

Speaker blinked for a few times, his entire brain still ‘ringing’ from the intense volume of the voice of the changeling. The thing was that this couldn’t possibly be an unshaped… those things couldn’t exist in creation: “Cash, ask it if it is Hahn-Hanar’s apprentice.”

Cash took the advice and the oily eyes rose, quickly growing jagged crystalline edges, swerving around as if gazing into bottomless distances: “That chapter was but a small first chapter in my glorious legend – my cup will douse all of creation, and it will love me for all of eternity”

“I think this joker is nuts.” Sullen Hoof quietly commented.

Cash threw Sullen Hoof a smirk, without words saying “You don’t say?”

“No, its more than that – Hahn-Hanar said that he’d told Hahn-Lee of legends of the ancient glories of the un-shaped, I think Lee has delusions of grandeur. I’ve got good pony-reading charms… this thing is off the charts.” Sullen Hoof noted, while Hahn-Lee ranted on quite loudly about how it would pour gifts upon creation until there would be nothing but ponies grateful to him.

The room suddenly changed. The table with the endless feast of roasted meats was still there, with the circle around it, but now it was all in a grand ballroom. The floor and ceiling was the same, but now there were walls. Along the walls there were hundreds of… meat-puppets. Literally. Small figures of meat, in the guise of little fillies and colts. They all stood at attention, as if they were servants, not moving at all. Speaker knew better, recognizing the things as figments of Hahn-Lee’s imagination, minor character’s in Hahn-Lee’s own narrative – lesser changelings that would only exist while Hahn-Lee’s story required them to be around. Still, they were quite gross to look at.

The oily eyes were nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, what are we going to do here?” Cash said, looking around. The ballroom was lavishly decorated, but when looking at the same detail or extravagant little carving a second time it would change, be something else. A mural became a drape, or a painting of strange impossible geometric shapes would become an alcove with a golden statue with jade eyes.

Sunrise suggested that she say a few words to Hahn-Lee once he reappeared.

The circle didn’t have to wait long, as suddenly the ceiling height spiralled into infinity, and the eyes of oil reappeared, along with the impossibly loud voice: “You ponies – great heroes, are you not? In this life and in others. This is excellent! The challenges shall begin immediately!”

The eyes vanished and Speaker took a few steps towards the dirt tunnel out of the… mansion – a detail too ingrained in creation’s reality for the changeling to change outside of the raw potential presented by the underground demesne’s essence.

“This is bad – this is really bad.” Speaker began, looking more and more at the exit.

Red liked the idea of a good challenge, so she didn’t really see the problem. Speaker quickly filled the circle in with why he was worried: “Changelings only seek out un-shaped changelings to challenge them. They’re the most powerful of changelings around, primordials were made of multiple un-shaped. If you challenge an un-shaped you can name any reward you want, but if you fail… bad end.”

“Come on – this means we could challenge oil-eyes for the missing mare and the pennants.” Red suggested, looking eager for a good fight.

Speaker shook his head: “No, challenges like this – it’d be four rounds, based on the graces. This could be anything from us having to battle a magma-kraken, to seduce one. Only Sunrise and Shimmer can resist direct shaping attacks… we could end up looking like the meat-puppets lining the wall”

Red walked up to Speaker and looked him square in the eyes: “There’s an innocent mare held prisoner here. She could be one of the flesh-things looking at us. Honor demands we save her.”

Taking a deep breath Speaker nodded, looking back at the table that was still overflowing ever-alluring treats.

“Okay, I have no clue what this changeling will do to us – he’s not un-shaped, but being in here will give him more power than usual. Stay sharp and…” Speaker began, but suddenly the oily eyes reappeared and Hahn-Lee’s voice boomed out: “Let the party begin!”

The moment that the voice went silent the floor erupted in flames. The stone melted into burning putty, and everypony leapt for their lives. It was too far from the exit for anyone to get out, but Red was quick on her hooves and leapt up on the stone table which hadn’t changed. Shimmer jumped straight up and turned into a seagull, and Speaker scrambled up to the table before the stones melted beneath his hooves. Sullen Hoof stomped down on the floor and ran off at super-pony speed up the wall of the now burning ballroom, his hooves sticking to the wall by the use of charms and essence.

Cash was the slowest, and so his hooves, legs and belly was badly burnt as he slowly sank into the burning stone while trying to wade towards the stone table. He was screaming and crying as Red and Speaker hauled him up and patted down his half-burnt blue silk jacket. Speaker and Shimmer quickly began to tend Cash’s wounds, while Sullen Hoof continued up the wall and up the ceiling until he was above the table, at which point he dropped down into the piles of cooked and seasoned meat with a clatter of plates and hissing as meat fell into the burning floor.

Pushing his way out of the feast, Sullen Hoof emerged soaked in meat juices but smelling rather tasty.

With everyone out of the fire the floor suddenly changed back. Shimmer was the first to notice the nature of the next challenge: “The feast, the smell changed!”

“I don’t see the problem, it smells nice.” Sullen Hoof noted, carefully stepping down on the now suddenly normal stone floor and floating up a big juicy sausage before his face.

Speaker continued picking off ashen scraps of silks and stone from the sulking Cash Charmer’s burnt legs, but he quickly noticed Shimmer having difficulties staying focused on the task at hand.

“The challenge here is obviously to resist the temptation of the feast, lest we lose ourselves to the ‘gifts’ of this changeling and become his mindless slaves.” Sunrise pointed out, jumping down from the table, acting as if such simple temptations were beneath her.

Speaker agreed, weaving essence into Cash’s wounds to clean them from flecks of crusty burns and droplets of cooling stone. Cash moaned that it really smelled good and that some comfort food would nice right about now. Speaker shushed Cash and concentrated on healing the burns, consciously shoving away the lure of the feast from his mind by focus and will alone.

Red was already gorging herself, taking big bites out of juicy steaks. Shimmer joined her seconds later, leaving Speaker to tend to Cash alone.

Then Sullen Hoof vomited, loudly, wetly and messily, all over the food where he stood. Red and Shimmer didn’t take notice, but Sunrise Glow quickly walked over to Sullen Hoof and asked if he was okay.

“Its… gods” Sullen Hoof whipped his mouth: “You, gods – everypony, stop eating! This meat, it’s pony meat!”

The conflict of interests displayed on Red’s face was obvious, as she slowly pulled herself away from the table. Shimmer took a few more bites, then spat them out, muttering: “I prefer Mahasuchi's cooking over this”

Speaker didn’t want to know.

With everypony having stopped eating, the oily eyes reappeared – as did the painfully loud voice inside everypony’s head: “Impressive my little ponies – you best me at every opportunity! Before I give you your next challenge, let us discuss what you are questing for? What would you ask of me?”

Sunrise looked at Speaker, asking without words if there was any special way of wording such requests.

Before Speaker respond Red stepped up, allowing Speaker to continue tending to Cash’s wounds: “You have a mare held captive here from a nearby farm – we want her and any ponies you hold here turned over to our custody – and we also came for some pennants for one Hahn-Hanar.”

The voice of the changeling boomed out: “That is your prize? No oath? No items of power? You ponies make no sense, but I graciously honor your request – and so, the challenge continues! Feast, my ponies.”

“What? He’ll tempt us again?” Sullen Hoof said, looking at his puddle of vomit dripping off the table in disgust.

Suddenly, a painting on the wall with the exit ‘opened’ into some kind of bottomless side-ways pit, that all the food from the table ‘fell’ into. It was really weird to look at, for none of the ponies present showed or felt gravity pulling sideways. The vomit, the flecks of once molten stone and other bits of dirt in or around the table was also sucked away – Cash screamed as flecks of stone tore from his wounds and flew into the hole left by the painting. The painted reappeared, ending the cleaning session.

With the sound of heavy rock grinding against rock, holes opened in the ceiling and dishes of flesh fell from them. They sounded like ceramic dishes as they hit the now clean and empty stone table, a few shattering only to reassemble themselves seconds later, but like the previous dishes they were obviously made of ‘hard’ meat… or made to look like it, as it was becoming abundantly clear that very little in this freehold was real.

From the holes in the ceiling, above the empty dishes, new food poured. Deluges of roasted steaks half the size of ponies and sausages twice the size of pony legs dropped down, all of it landing as if perfectly arranged by a master chef, instead of just landing in piles.

A quick taste test by Sullen Hoof confirmed that all of it was pony flesh.

“How do you know what pony flesh tastes like?” Red wondered.

Sullen Hoof floated out a waterskin from his saddlebags and washed the taste out of his mouth: “I’ve cut myself in the past, working in kitchens, haven’t you ever licked your own wounds? I’ve also been burnt a few times. You learn the taste of seared pony, it’s… tangy”

Speaker noted that the biggest of the steaks were way too big to be from a pony. The meat was just an illusion, just like everything there, he was sure of it.

Cash, now with a plate resting surprisingly well on his flanks as he lay on the table, with an artistic arrangement of sausages on the plate, groaned: “Right, but what’s the challenge then? Continue ea-“ and stopped mid-sentence, as suddenly a foul stench spread inside the room.

All the meat on the table, including the sausage-platter resting on Cash’s flanks, had instantly rotted as if left out in the sun and the rain for at least three weeks. What had previously been huge juicy red steaks, or sausages that just dripped with flavor, was now brown and black fibrous masses, covered in light green and white fuzz, dripping with foul murky puss-like liquids. The whole thing smelled like a latrine on a hot summer’s day.

“Yes, Cash, the challenge is to continue eating.” Sunrise said in a solemn tone, sounding very much as if she wished it wasn’t true.

Turning over to face the rotten feast, wincing in pain as crusty burn wounds cracked all the way up and down his legs, Cash reached out and grabbed the nearest bit of decaying meat – after the squishy noise of the sausage platter on his flanks falling off and spilling into the rest of the mold-pile had subsided: “I’m hurting enough as is, but we’re saving the damn mare – let’s just get this over with.”

The rest of the circle marveled – and Sullen Hoof vomited again – as Cash Charmer began eating the putrid food. Sure, he would turn and vomit out over the edge of the table with every other bite, but he displayed a truly amazing level of determination as he just took in bite after bite, even with the near constant puking in-between bites and reaching out for more.

It was sickening to watch, but as Speaker realized that Cash wasn’t giving up he saw that the ‘food’ was also disappearing at a much faster rate – as if one bite would consume an entire dish. Again, this was the strange narrative logic of the changelings, as Speaker guessed that the changeling was perceiving Cash’s struggle like some kind of montage, skipping the boring bits and… going straight to the end… as Cash had somehow cleared the whole table barely twenty seconds after taking the first bite, despite there having probably been the weight of 5 ponies in rotten food on the table.

“Congratulations! My slaves are yours! And pennants for Hanar, here, have it all!” the voice boomed, the solid stone slap of a table suddenly flipping open, dumping Cash on the floor – him yelping in pain as he was thrown to the side. Underneath the stone slab, which appeared to have been hollow, was a terrible sight.

In a room carved into the dirt, lit by a bonfire with emerald and cobalt flames – literally – flames of blue metal and green gemstone, sat a heavily mutated pony. It wasn’t really possible to tell if it was a mare or a stallion, but considering the situation then it was a reasonably safe bet that it was the mare they had been looking for. She was absolutely horrible to look at.

Her flesh had been reshaped by the changeling so that it seemed to grow constantly, and knives and cleavers made of hunger and fire orbited her, carving huge chunks off that floated up over the bonfire to cook and transform into the dishes that would appear on the stone table. The mare appeared to be in a trance of some sort, Speaker guessing that she had been drained of any and all will to resist, her mind reshaped into that of a willing puppet – ‘dream-eaten’ being the common word for ponies who’s souls had been all but completely devoured by changelings.

“Can we… fix her?” Red said, looking at the mare in a mix of disgust, sadness and quiet rage. It was clear in her voice that she wasn’t giving up, but equally that she did not know how to proceed.