“Ladies and gentlecolts, it is I, DJ-Pon3, back on air for just a short time! I’m still hopping around, looking for a good place to stay, but it is just a little bit hard when you’re on the run from the foals in black while carrying a potentially life threatening disease. But at least I got a good, strong guy and his cute marefriend to keep me company. I can’t diddle daddle for long because I gotta go, but not without delivering the gospel of heroes! For all of you that thought that the one and only Vigilante -a.k.a. Mare-Do-Well- had disappeared, well you’re wrong. Completely and totally wrong. Mare-Do-Well lives and she stopped a bunch of terrorists from pretty much killing everypony that breathed. You don’t have to believe me, but just know that all you evil dickheads out there better watch out, cuz Mare-Do-Well is back! And she will. Kick. Your. Ass! This quick blurb has been brought to you by DJ-Pon3 and Snacky Smores. Stay vigilant, my friends.”

Pinkie Pie sighs with bliss as she reclines on an old rocking chair resting on the remains of the burnt down cabin she once called home. While the ground is still stained with the ash from Pinkamena’s arson, the actual cabin is now a skeleton made up of fresh wooden beams nailed and screwed together with a tarp tugged over the top to protect them from the elements. Beside the house are more piles of wood and tools and other necessities for reconstruction. The only things that could make her morning better would be a tray of donuts with some milk and for the sunset not to be shrouded by the looming storm in the distance.

Pinkie Pie tries to keep herself happy, even though the green tint and lightning from the storm sends an unnerving edge, but she figures she might as well attempt to enjoy the dream since it is as peaceful as she has had it in the past seemingly year-long months that drastically reshaped her life. However, with the distant storm, she can’t help but worry just a little bit.

Pinkie Pie stands up and stretches her legs and back like a canine, groaning and murmuring pleasantly to herself, before she trots down the staircase being rebuilt and towards a picnic table near a pile of lumber. Once there, she sits down in front of it and wills for a platter of donuts and a glass of milk to appear.

Her wish becomes the universe’s command as a plate and glass appear in front of her in bright glow with choir music, and she can’t help but grin widely at that.

“Who’s the mare? I’m the mare,” boasts Pinkie Pie to herself. Then she licks her lips and grabs the platter of treats after rubbing her hooves together. “Now it’s lunch time!”

Pinkie Pie is about to eat a chocolate donut with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles when a certain dragon sits on the bench next to her.

“You know, you should really eat something a bit more healthy,” says Spike.

Pinkie Pie’s tongue is out at this point like a limb stretching desperately for its lover, and she looks at Spike out of the corner of her eye with the donut leveled with her wanting tongue.

“It’s gluten free,” points out Pinkie Pie. Then she shoves the whole thing in her mouth and speaks with mouth full of chewed donut. “Besides, I think after all the crazy weirdness stuff that has happened I deserve a triple chocolate donut.”

“By crazy weirdness do you mean ticking off Charon big time or going nutty in the tower?”

“Yes and yes to both. And then there was all the other stuff that led up to that. It was kinda like living in a poorly made action book. Except it was real. Octavia is dead, you’re still dead, lots of guys are dead or scarred for life, and now I’m on the crap list of the Alicorn of Death... Great, now I’m too sad to have a donut.”

Pinkie Pie tosses the donut back on the plate and slams her face against the picnic table, groaning depressingly.

“Please tell me you’re still haunting me to tell me some great news,” begs Pinkie Pie, her voice slightly muffled from the wood her face is pressed against.

She can just picture Spike cringing from the seething noise he makes, and when she looks up, he is fidgeting with his fingers.

“Yeah, about the good news... You’re alive... You seem to be getting your act together with the whole friendship rebuilding thing... You, uh... You and Trixie did a good job stopping a bunch of terrorists and I think you should form a super friends team or something.” Spike coughs into his hand forcefully and looks away while adjusting his posture to look at the cabin. “So, yeah. Lot’s of good news. Kudos for saving the world.”

“Just Equestria, actually,” says Pinkie Pie. “And me and Rarity and Applejack still have to sort some stuff out. That’s going to be fun.”

Spike shrugs. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I mean Rarity and Applejack are both nice and I-”

“Rarity threw a sewing machine at my head! And Applejack wouldn’t let me on her farm after what happened to Big Mac.”

Spike winces. “Oh... Well, I think they cooled off enough so you can actually talk to them without ripping each other’s manes out.”

Pinkie Pie slides to the ground on her stomach and pokes at a piece of lumber dismally. “I don’t know. Rarity is the queen of drama queens and Applejack is... well... she’s Applejack. She’s got a thing about holding grudges. I remember one time when we were playing Monopoly, Fluttershy bought Canterlot Avenue and Applejack made sure to finish her off first in every game after that for a whole year just like when Twilight took a purple spot on Risk that she was trying to hold or when Dashie knocked away her red guy in Sorry or when I beat her in an apple bobbing contest because she wants ponies to suffer if they make her lose and if she acts like that with board games just imagine her when I try to apologize AGAIN for getting Big Mac pounded big time! Spike, Applejack. Is. The. GRUDGE!”

By the time Pinkie Pie is done, she has Spike’s shoulders locked in place with her hooves, her eyes are wide and she is panting heavily. Spike stares at Pinkie Pie, speechless about the whole spiel. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before he finally comes up with a response.

“I’m sure she’s cooled off.”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes go half lidded and her ears droop as she slides off of Spike. Silence falls between them, and while Spike’s head tilts away to look at the odd storm in the distance, Pinkie Pie finds herself staring at the dirt. The wonderfully bland dirt that she grew up with. But as Pinkie Pie stares at the ground, the thought of the grudges she knows Applejack and Rarity have slowly leave her mind to make room for Spike and his strange attitude in the Celestial Spire.

“Spike,” begins Pinkie Pie, prompting the purple drake to glance at her quickly. She takes a deep breath and looks at him, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes, but she can’t. After all that had happened, how he begged her to fix herself for the sake of herself and everyone she cared about, she can’t understand why he switched his position so fast when she had come face to face with Charon. “Why did you want me to die?”

Spike is clearly uncomfortable with the question as his whole body tenses. “I didn’t want you to die, but I wanted you to accept that you had pretty much killed yourself.”

“Spike, c’mon, this is me you’re talking to. You can’t fool Aunt Pinkie.”

“Sure I can. Remember that one time-”

“Nope.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

Spike snorts a laugh and sits down on the bench, cracking his fingers and stretching out his legs.

“Fine, have it your way,” he says with a smirk. “But when I get on to haunting Rarity I’ll be sure to tell her about that one time where I got you with the jack-o-lantern on Nightmare Night. Classic.”

Pinkie Pie frowns and sits front of Spike, noting how he is forcing himself to smile. She finds it remarkable that even as a spirit, he can still show emotions, and it makes her wonder if there will be sunshines and rainbows forever Paradise since the happiness forever depends on permanent bliss which cannot occur if ghosts can feel emotions as much as the living. Pinkie Pie puts this round of thinking to rest before it gets too out of hand and distracts her from the question she needs to ask.

When she puts her hoof on his lap and gazes into his eyes, he looks down at her, still holding his smile, albeit with a lot of strain.

“Spike, can you pretty please tell me why you wanted me to die?” asks Pinkie Pie.

Spike sighs and shifts his position so he is more proper. “Pinkie, I never wanted you to die. I never wanted to see you or any of my friends hurt. You are like a sister to me.”

“But you wanted me to accept Charon sucking my soul away into that creepy staircase.” Pinkie Pie shudders with her eyes closed, thinking about Pinkamena’s screaming and thrashing as the Alicorn of Death of pulled her into the abyss. “At least he got Pinkamena... I think. Was that like an exorcism or something?”

Spike shrugs and Pinkie Pie sighs, silently dropping the question since she really doesn’t want to bug Spike about something of the likes of Charon sucking Pinkamena away. She has yet to see her evil clone in her dreams, anyway, so as far as she knows, that part of her is gone. Now all she has to do is try to avoid freak accidents and figure out why Spike’s mood change.

“Back on subject. Me. Dead. Why?” demands Pinkie Pie.

“You aren’t going to let up are you?” sighs Spike.

Pinkie Pie shakes her head with diligence. “If I have to force myself to sleep to get an answer, then I will do it. I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”

She quickly realizes how forcing herself to stay asleep will be problematic in avoiding freak accidents, but again, she doesn’t probe her own choices. Spike, on the other hand, rubs his eyes ridge, mumbling incoherently to himself. Well, it would be incoherent to most ponies, but Pinkie Pie can make out a good portion of his words, and they all revolve around the idea of her not going to like it with either outcome of his choice. Pinkie Pie doesn’t say anything, though. She waits patiently for the purple dragon to stop mumbling and finally sigh with a great slump in shoulders.

“Fine,” he says in defeat, “but you need to warn the others as soon as you can about what is going to happen.”

Pinkie Pie hops up on all fours, and with the proper motions and words, she recites and reenacts the famous Pinkie Promise. When she is done, she lands with a plop in front of Spike, her head resting on her hoof and eyes wide like a bug. Spike forces on last smile before switching to a depressed frown, and he looks down and rubs his hands together.

“When you survived, the Elements of Harmony did not reset,” he says grimly.

“That’s good, though, right?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“Yes and no. Charon didn’t say much since I am a ‘mere spirit’, but he is excited about something...”

“Stop stalling, Spike!”

“Somepony is coming back, Pinkie, and he is going to kill you and Twilight and Rarity and the others just so you can’t use the Elements to send him back. Or pull a Nightmare Moon on him. Whoever he is, he’s bad news, and all I can get from the others is his title. The Banished Son.”

Pinkie Pie’s jaw drops. People just seem to be hellbent on killing her nowadays, and even with her shocked expression, Spike continues talking. Probably for the sake of talking or just so she can get a crash course on a coming biblical event.

“If you had died, then the Elements would have reseted and whoever this ‘Banished Son’ is would not have given much thought about the Elements since last time it took a thousand years to find the perfect group,” continues Spike. He waits a few seconds before sighing and rubbing his eyes. “Or maybe he would have since I heard he is a few threads short of a dress. Heck, I don’t know.”

Pinkie Pie blinks at his odd analogy, but she knows that him spending all that time with Rarity had warped his fragile little mind in some way. This being one of them. Spike doesn’t seem to notice the look she is giving him, though, so he continues speaking.

“But the point is, he’s going to be gunning for all of you now. He won’t care about how sweet Fluttershy is or how pretty Rarity is. He’s going to come after all of you and make sure you guys are dead. If you died, then there was the chance that he would have gone his own way, but now... Now you’re going to be in more pain because Tartarus is literally coming.”

“But he’ll only need to take out one of us to stop the Elements from working. So he’ll probably go after me since I have a bad guy magnet now,” says Pinkie Pie, huffing angrily at her own observation.

Spike puts his hand on Pinkie Pie’s shoulder. “Pinkie, if you had accepted that you had died then you have been able to avoid all of this. You would have been happy in Paradise and you would not have to worry about anything ever again. But since you refused to die it is more important now than ever to fix your friendships with Applejack and Rarity.”

“What about Charon?”

“Well, he doesn’t take too kindly to souls escaping, especially if it is more than once. I’ll try to keep him calm, but this guy beats Applejack by a landslide in a grudge holding contest.”

Pinkie Pie gulps and Spike smiles reassuringly and sits on the ground so he can hug Pinkie Pie. She squeezes her eyes shut and hugs Spike back, quivering slightly at the prospect of what is to come and what she is responsible for now. When she starts trembling more and sniffling with tears rolling down her cheeks, Spike gently shushes her and strokes her mane. She nuzzles closer to him, loving the strangely soothing touches his claws are giving her. It is like getting a comb from a gentle, organic brush.

“Everything is going to be okay,” says Spike softly in her ear. “I cannot promise you any easy roads, now, but when this is all over, you’ll see those sunshines and rainbows you’ve always talked about, okay?”

Pinkie Pie nods with a whimper, and she looks at Spike again when he holds her back just far enough so he can look into her blue eyes comfortably. He smiles sadly with some tears of his own and wipes the tears from her cheek with a brush of his thumb.

“I never wanted you to die,” reiterates Spike, “but I hate seeing you living in pain more. If you had died, you would have been spared all the crap that is going to come, but you’re still alive, and that means you have some more work to do.”

Spike hugs Pinkie Pie again, this time tighter and he bows his head over hers. Pinkie Pie feels his tears drip on her mane and she she returns the hug, gently rubbing her hooves along his back.

“If you need me, I’m only a dream away,” says Spike.

Pinkie Pie nods and says:

“Okay.”

“Pinkie?”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes open gradually, and the waking fuzz slowly dissipates to show the white hospital room with the morning sunlight shining through. She looks around for the source of the voice, noting the get well soon cards and flowers marked with “FS + IW” and pictures of beautiful landscapes. Her eyes drift towards her burnt hooves and notices the IVs and wires connecting her body to sensors that show her vitals on a constantly printing machine. Her hooves glide over the thin, but comfortable, cotton sheet and she doesn’t need to see a mirror to know that her face is bandaged. She can feel the gauze and the tape holding it in place.

“Pinkie, it’s me,” says the cultured voice again.

Pinkie Pie stops her search and turns to the source. Sitting next to her on a chair, wearing a simple, but elegant dress with a purple fedora with a flower tucked in the band hanging on the arm of the chair is a familiar alabaster unicorn. Despite the makeup the visitor is wearing, Pinkie Pie can see that she is tired from the bags under her eyes and the slouching demeanor she has.

Pinkie Pie’s heart spikes, and the machines beep loudly while the printer frantically prints out the vital reports to where they are sloppily rolling over each other and spilling over the bin and onto the floor. Rarity sits up straighter and puts her hoof over Pinkie Pie’s and looks at her with wide unfocused eyes, red and wet and silently begging for her to listen. Pinkie Pie stares at Rarity’s constantly shifting eyes, and her heart rate slowly drops down to normal beats and her ragged breathing turns as calm and steady as she can get. When Pinkie Pie sees the tears blackened with masqueria trail down her friend’s cheeks, she swallows and puts her other hoof on top of Rarity’s.

“Rarity, what are you doing here?” asks Pinkie Pie quietly.

Rarity gulps. “I want to apologize... I just wish it didn’t have to come to this for us to meet again.”

Pinkie Pie can’t find the words to say, so she continues watching Rarity.

“I’ve been a terrible friend,” sniffles Rarity, using her magic to guide the handkerchief to wipe the tears away, and she looks down, gulping air and trembling. “I guess I knew you were Trixie’s escort when I saw you at the palace. I knew it, but... I don’t know why I didn’t try to make amends. I don’t know why I pretended you didn’t exist after you faked your death.”

Pinkie Pie looks away from Rarity to look at her wired hooves, and the Element of Generosity looks up at her again, silently understanding why her old friend is having problems looking at her.

“I can understand why you won’t look at me,” says Rarity, swallowing a clump of tears to the back of her throat. “I can barely look at myself now, because everytime I look at myself in the mirror I do not see me or somepony worthy to be the Element of Generosity. I see a cruel, evil pony who should be exiled to a far away island. Ever since what happened to Spike and us, I have been afraid to attend to those lavish parties or go anywhere public because I can hear their whispers behind my back. I have been condemned for what I did to you, and I cannot blame them.”

Pinkie Pie looks at Rarity again, and now the unicorn is keeping her head bowed and her shoulders buckle as she sobs into her hoof. Pinkie Pie swallows tears of her own and winces slightly when she pulls Rarity in for a hug. She doesn’t care about the discomfort she is getting from the wires and tubes in her or the fact that Rarity’s head is rubbing against the gauze wrapped around her face. All she sees is a pony who needs a hug. She sees a pony who has been dead inside just as she has been and now needs to find the sunshine in life once more.

Pinkie Pie gently shushes Rarity as she strokes her curly, purple mane, and Rarity wraps her hoof around Pinkie Pie, trying very hard to be considerate of the machinery strapped to the pink pony. Pinkie Pie closes her eyes and thinks about Spike’s words, about the whole months of Hell she had been through, and how she has been fixing her friendships with the other Bearers. With her best friends. And now she has to make amends with Rarity, the queen of drama queens.

“It’s okay. I accept your apology,” says Pinkie Pie gently. Then she says with a weak, devilish smile: “And Spike also says he’s going to haunt you, too, so don’t freak out if you see him. And whatever you do, do not believe him when he mentions me, a jack-o-lantern, and Nightmare Night.”

Rarity sniffles and looks up at Pinkie Pie with a small, amused smile gracing her face. Pinkie Pie’s devilish smile softens to a genuine, happy one. She is glad to see Rarity smile again after all the months of torment she has been through. And she feels a great weight come off of her shoulder, knowing that they got the first part of their amends taken care of, and she is also amazed that she forgot how powerful a simple apology and accepting an apology can be.

“What on earth are you talking about?” asks Rarity lightly.

“I’m just being me again,” says Pinkie Pie proudly, earning a snicker from Rarity, and then she asks: “Where’s Jackie? Is she here?”

Rarity looks down again and pulls away from Pinkie Pie, shaking her head. Pinkie Pie’s smile fades as she sees Rarity’s mood depress, and when the alabaster colored mare rubs her eyes to wipe more tears away, Pinkie Pie tries to put her hoof on Rarity’s shoulder, but the discomfort is too much, so she is forced to let it plop to the bed.

“What’s wrong, Rarity?” asks Pinkie Pie with concern.

Rarity sighs. “Applejack is missing. She has been missing for quite some time now.”

Pinkie Pie pales. “What! What happened?”

“You didn’t hear?”

Pinkie Pie shakes her head, now confused and worried about her other friend, and Rarity bites her lip, thinking of a proper way to explain the situation for a few seconds before she starts speaking.

“Applejack was arrested a few months ago, as well as Apple Bloom and Big Mac,” she says. “I do not know why, but I fear it might be because of their very vocal opposition to what is happening to Equestria. I tried to figure out where they took Applejack so I could get the best lawyers to negotiate her release, but she took care of that herself.”

“Really?” asks Pinkie Pie with a questionable raise of her brow. She knows that Applejack may have run a successful company, but she also knows that the farmer had one of the hidden blights of success. After all the expenses and obligations, Applejack made about as much money as she did when she worked at the Sugar Cube Corner. That is if the farmer was lucky. So the idea of Applejack having enough money to get a bloodsucker to help her out of jail is something Pinkie Pie finds odd.

“It appears that Applejack is an escape artist as well as a farmer,” informs Rarity. “And she also managed to break out Big Mac and now those two are on the run. Celestia has made them enemies of the state because of that, and goodness knows what has become of Apple Bloom.”

“What!”

Rarity nods. “It’s true. I only know this because Fuller told Twilight, and Twilight told me.”

“But why enemies of the state!? I mean, that is pretty hardcore for a couple of ponies breaking out of prison.”

“Apparently there was a rumor going around that Applejack wanted to start a revolt to remove Celestia and the Solar Council from power using help from the Lunar Society.”

Pinkie Pie looks away, blinking in thought of this revelation. It would explain why the Lunar Society has been banned, and being accused of wanting to overthrow the government is a big deal. Pinkie Pie sighs and shakes her head, now worrying about Applejack, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom more than her own health.

“I warned Applejack that something terrible would happen if she carried on as she did before her arrest, but she didn’t listen to me” says Rarity sadly. “I swear Applejack and Rainbow Dash are the same pony with how rash they can be sometimes.”

Pinkie Pie gasps. “Rarity, how can you say that! Those two are completely different ponies! Rainbow Dash is colorful, flies around and can kick some serious butt! But Applejack is kinda bland... and actually likes to work since she kinda retired from the butt kicking thing after Eclipse came to town.”

Rarity nods quickly, blinking more tears as another unpleasant memory resurfaces. “I can’t say I blame her after having to deal with those brutes. And just thinking about Eclipse makes me shudder. But it does explain a lot about Trixie, though. With the way her father was, I mean.”

Pinkie Pie frowns. “If Trixie was a stallion, that would be a blow to his happy place. She is nothing like that nasty meanie of a daddy she had.”

Rarity leans back and waves her hooves defensively.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” she says quickly. “It was a slip of the tongue. But I mean... I don’t know what I am going at, really. I just hope the poor dear is doing alright. You two have been through enough and need some time to relax. I actually do have a beachfront property at Horseshoe Bay that I know you two will love! You should relax there for a while with me and Sweetie Belle.”

That is when Pinkie Pie realizes that she had forgotten all about Trixie, which makes her feel about as wonderful as dirt. After all the chaos they had been through in stopping the League from poisoning an entire nation, from their crazy breach of the tower all the way from Trixie’s “supremely epic fight” -as described by Snails over the radio- she wonders how in Celestia’s good green Equus she had forgotten about her second best friend. Then her mind tilts towards Applejack, and she realizes that Spike’s mission for her cannot be completed unless they find Applejack, but she can’t just ignore Trixie, either! She needs to save the world by making amends with Applejack and Trixie needs to know that she has a new family of ponies that won’t try to kill her in her sleep, which she can’t do if she can’t find Applejack!

“My head hurts,” groans Pinkie Pie. She rubs both sides of her head with her hooves and keeps her eyes shut as Rarity pats her shoulder. “Where is Trixie, anyway?”

Rarity hesitates. “Oh... about that...”

Trixie stops to wipes sweat off of her brow with a rag using her magic as she sits down on the elegant couch in the living room of her father’s loft. She takes a breath and smiles proudly at her accomplishment. The floor is polished and free of scratches and blood, the patio door and railing have been replaced with top of the line materials, there are no more holes or cracks in the walls, and new display cases have been brought in to house the glued together dragon figurines, which had been a chore in itself. Trixie isn’t too thrilled about the figurines, though, since some pieces are slightly off and thick globs of glue have dried past the cracks, leaving odd, clear-ish bulges. Then there is the family photo on the bookshelf. For some reason she could not find a frame that had fit the picture, so it remains behind the cracked glass and splintered frame. The crack is strangely above Eclipse’s face, too, making it so it is very difficult to see, and the crack separates Trixie and Braille.

“You cleaned up nicely,” says Custos as he casually strolls inside the loft through the front door, which Trixie is certain she had locked. But she reminds herself that this is Custos. He comes and goes where he wants, when he wants.

“Thanks. It took long enough,” says Trixie with a tired smile.

“Did you spend your whole time here?”

“Oh, no. I hit up a few bars. Got trashed. Met some old friends and some guys I really wish I did not have to see again.”

“Last I recall, you losing yourself to alcohol ended badly.”

Trixie frowns and swears that Custos had a teasing edge to his claim. And she is still bugged by his featureless design.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” says Trixie as she slides off of the couch. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been doing what I needed to do.” Trixie opens her mouth to speak, but the mystical stallion holds up his hoof, and she closes her mouth instantly to allow him to continue. “I have brought somepony here who needs to have a word with you. We do not have much time, so it will be quick.”

Custos steps away and Trixie takes a couple of steps back as a tall, hooded pony enters the room. Strangely it seems as if the clouds have made a last minute decision to block out the sun when the stranger walked in. The visitor is silent, and the door closes behind them with a glow of their horn, and then the hood is pulled back to reveal the Princess of the Night. Her expression is stern and her posture is tall and proud, yet alert, almost as if she is expecting some crazed assassin to burst through the patio and stab her in the neck with a sharpened spoon.

Trixie’s first instinct is to bow, and bow she does, which Luna returns in kind, and when both ponies are up, Trixie has to crane her head to look at the taller, supremely superior being before her.

“Hi,” says Trixie sheepishly.

“You tried to impersonate Us,” says Luna, her eyes slightly narrowing.

Trixie chuckles and rubs the back of her neck. “Yeah, about that...”

“We do not want an apology. We actually found it amusing.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess.”

“But We are not here about impersonations, rather We have come to ask for your help.”

Trixie blinks, looks at Custos questionably, who does absolutely nothing in return, and she looks back at Luna. The alicorn has no signs of teasing on her, and her expression has grown more intense, just as the weather outside has become darker with thick storm clouds. There is a rumble in the distance, and Trixie looks over her shoulder when thousands of tiny droplets bang against her freshly cleaned windows, which had been a pain in the tail. The room darkens and shakes with another rumble, and she looks back at Luna, realizing that the alicorn princess has refused to remove her cloak.

“You can take your cloak off, you know,” says Trixie, slightly unnerved by the looming weather.

“The cloak stays on. Will you hear Our proposal?” says Luna sternly.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No,” says Luna and Custos in unison.

Trixie huffs and lies on the couch, with her head resting on one hoof and the other dangling down carelessly, and she frowns when she sees the clock has stopped at five oh five. She knows she changed the batteries for the stupid thing, but it has stopped at that stalker number which she knows cannot be a coincidence and secretly blames Luna for it.

“Do not blame Us for your malfunctioning clock,” says Luna.

“I didn’t-”

“You were thinking it.”

Trixie sighs heavily and one glow and telekinetic flick later, the clock sails out of sight, out of mind and crashes against the wall on the other side of the hallway. Trixie gets a satisfied smile from that, then she puts her focus back to Luna.

“Alright, so what problem is so bad that a goddess needs a simple mortal like me to help her?” says Trixie, her voice having a skeptical, snobbish flare to it.

Luna glances at Custos with a raised brow, and the stallion says: “I told you she was a hoof-full.”

“Hey!” whines Trixie angrily, now sitting up and glaring daggers at Custos.

“We have strayed long enough,” says Luna sternly. “Trixie Lulamoon, you have proven yourself to be capable of great things, and for that We, as well as the other Higher Powers, have decided to come to you for aid in defending the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony.”

Trixie’s mind fries at that point, and she looks back at Custos for answers, which proves to be a mistake because he is staring at her as expectantly as a fresh chalkboard would. Trixie looks back at Luna and chuckles as she realizes that there is only one possible reason for Luna coming to her father’s apartment to ask for her help.

She’s trolling.

“Very funny,” giggles Trixie, her grin widening when Luna’s frown grows. Then she looks at Custos. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor. I mean, I know Luna had a sense of humor, especially what she did to Cadence with that cannon and pond.”

Luna sighs heavily at that and bows her head as if she is hoping that by doing so, the memory of soaking Cadence in an algae infested pond by launching her out of a cannon would go away. But Trixie, being the marginally cynical unicorn she is, finds that event, and Luna’s embarrassed posture, to be hilarious. And she let’s it show with her continuous laughing.

“It rarely shows,” remarks Custos about his humor over Trixie’s laugh. “But we are not joking, Trixie. A new foe is approaching, and unless you want to see what little you hold dear burn, then you will hear Luna out.”

The grave tone from Custos is enough to kill Trixie’s joy, and her smile fades with her smile, until she coughs awkwardly and looks down shamefully. As her eyes remain glued to the floor, Luna steps forward, and while Luna may not be as big as Celestia, her steps still sound heavier to Trixie, though she quickly reasons with herself that it is because of the loft’s design. It makes plenty of room for an echo.

“The hour is late, Lulamoon,” claims Luna, emphasizing her point by expanding her wings from under her ratty cloak. “Blueblood’s death marked the countdown for an end that only the Elements of Harmony can stop. The Bearers need your help to stop the Banished Son before he ends the world.”

“Who is the Banished Son?” asks Trixie quietly after a pregnant pause, feeling weird on the inside for using such an odd title that she can’t help but think sounds incredibly cheesy. Like an act of desperation of a fantasy writer trying to make a title for some menacing foe to pit against their stalwart heroes.

Luna sighs, and her whole demeanor droops as her eyes glisten with tears. Luna is silent for a moment, and when she speaks, she has to gulp and her voice becomes shaky with not fear, but sadness.

“The Banished Son is a god that many see beyond salvation,” she begins quietly. “He was deceived many millennia ago, and he fell to the fear and darkness in his heart, much as you and I have. But you defeated your darkness, and are on the path towards redemption, and We have felt the grace of the Elements free Us from Nightmare Moon’s grasp. Custos and I believe there is still good in him, that is why We need you to help protect the Bearers. So they can free him as they have freed me.”

“I uh, I still got work some to do,” says Trixie as she rubs the back of her neck, casting a concerned look at the broken picture.

“The war in the heart is constant, and at any point the tide can change to favor of the light. The story is long, but when he was banished, he swore vengeance, and now he is returning with his Most Faithful Student to destroy everything Tia and myself hold dear. And he will start by taking the lives of the Element Bearers.”

“Oh, great. So now instead of helping you fight some pissed off god, I gotta help you fight his prized pupil, too!? Who’s the other guy!?” demands Trixie furiously.

“Curb your tone in Our presence!” snaps Luna with her wings expanded fully and eyes bright. This, along with her booming voice makes Trixie cringe, and upon seeing the unicorn’s reaction, Luna forces herself to calm down and continues in a softer tone. “We know you are scared, but rest assured, more will be collected in our ranks to help you in this fight. That is if you choose to assist the Element Bearers.”

Custos’ horn glows softly, and Trixie holds up her hoof, yelling at Custos to wait. His light stops growing, but it still glows as a signal for his all too familiar method of getting her awake.

Trixie looks at Luna again and asks: “Who is the other guy? I think I’ll need to know this if I’m being asked to help you out.”

Luna looks at Custos, silently asking him if it is okay for her to speak, and he remains still, only making a subtle nod when Trixie looks at him with a similar expression. Once giving his nod of approval, they look at each other and Luna begins with another heavy sigh.

“Like the Banished Son, he was once a good soul,” begins Luna, “but soon his heart became as black as night, and after destroying Roam he tried to proclaim himself as king over the Crystal Empire. But he was stopped by an army led by his own blood, Tia and I. The Crystal Empire was saved from a dark fate and he was banished to the Void for eternal torment with Sirius -the Banished Son. But the cost was great for all of us.”

Trixie takes in the short, dark tale word for word, but there is still a problem with Luna’s statement.

“I still didn’t get a name for the other guy,” says Trixie.

Again, Luna hesitates. “He was once known as Starburst Quartz, but he put his birth name behind him and now answers to Sombra.”

Trixie blinks and tries to think if she has heard of that name, but her attempts to place the name ends when Custos’ strengthens his horn, and Trixie once again tries to get him to stop, but the shadowy stallion declines her with a shake of his head.

“It is time for you to wake up,” says Custos.

“But what about helping you with all that evil darkness stuff!” says Trixie desperately. “Don’t you think you should give me all kinds of information so I can make an educated decision!”

“We will give you time to make your decision,” says Luna, with her and the loft almost being completely covered by the light from Custos’ horn. “Someone will meet you at day’s end to get your answer.”

“Oh come on!-”

“This is stupid!” shouts Trixie, snapping up in the sitting position, soon screaming from a very unpleasant feeling of IVs being yanked out from her limbs.

“Jeeze!” yells Monte, stumbling off of his chair with his hooves flailing and landing hard on his back.

Trixie screams from Monte’s scream, and scrunches up on the bed, heart racing and eyes wide, and Fancy Pants bursts in, fully alert and ready to beat the living shit out of anyone who dares harm a poor defenseless mare in a hospital bed. Needless to say, the dramatic entrance by the former enforcer makes the two unicorns in the room yell in surprise yet again. And by that point, Trixie might as well have molded herself with the bed frame from how hard she has pressed herself up against it, and she has her flimsy blanket pulled up to her chest by a default reaction.

“Trixie, are you alright!” says Fancy Pants alarmingly to go with the obnoxious sirens of the machines. Then he pauses and grins broadly with relief. “Oh, thank Celestia, you’re awake! Sooner than what the doctors predicted, too.”

“What the hell!” says Trixie loudly over the alarms blaring from the devices, her body now throbbing and feeling like a stitched up rag doll that needs to throw up her cottony interior. Then, to her horror, she notices all the machinery she was formerly strapped to, the fur growing over scar lines all over her body, and now the fresh trickles of blood from where her IVs popped out of. And to add salt to the wound, she has woken up in a place she doesn’t know. A habit that is becoming beyond irritating. “WHAT THE HELL! Where am I!?”

“You’re awake!” cheers Monte as he springs up like a launched board.

Then he hugs Trixie with a tight hug that leaves her crying out from the excruciating pain of his loving embrace.

“Monte. Pain. Hug. Stop!” cries Trixie.

Monte apologizes and quickly pulls away, leaving Trixie seething in her spot and squeezing tears out of her eyes, and when Fancy Pants glares daggers at the magician, he smiles sheepishly and backs away. Fancy Pants then shakes his head and looks back at Trixie as Fleur hurries in with Dr. Heartbeat. Trixie looks at Fleur with some concern since last time they met, she did not get a good vibe from the more-than-likely model. Fleur walks next to Fancy Pants and drapes her hoof over his back protectively while giving Trixie the envious eyes from their last encounter. Trixie squints challengingly back until Fancy Pants speaks, which she proceeds to give him her undivided attention.

“You’re at the Royal Canterlot Hospital,” explains Fancy Pants. “And because of your blatant disobedience, you managed to hurt yourself so much that we had to put you in a two week state of comatose just so you could be patched up.”

“Only two weeks? I thought it was longer,” quips Trixie while rubbing a particularly annoying throb next to her eye.

Fleur huffs snobbishly and flicks her mane disapprovingly while Fancy Pants frowns. Trixie puts her glare on Fleur, though. She can just picture the green aura of envy radiating off of Fancy Pants’ wife.

“Well, according to that play, Mind Heist, time gets a little loopy in the dream world, so it might have seem like a lot longer than two weeks. We’re you really old before you woke up?” says Monte with a teasing smile.

“No!” snaps Trixie. Then she looks at Dr. Heartbeat. “And what do you want?”

“For somepony who woke up from a coma, I was expecting you to be in a brighter mood,” says Dr. Heartbeat.

“It’s only because my dreams suck.”

“Did you dream about me?” asks Monte.

Trixie’s cheeks flush slightly when she looks at Monte. “Uh... A little.”

Monte grins. “Awesome.” Then he frowns. “Wait a minute, are you saying the dreams about me sucked?”

“I would think not since her cheeks are burning,” says Fleur with a cruel smile.

“Hey!” whines Trixie. Then she looks at Fancy Pants. “Can you please keep your wife under control!”

“Fleur, you can have your fun with Trixie when she can walk,” says Fancy Pants firmly, though with an equally cruel smile betraying his tone, and he glances back at the doctor, asking: “How is she, doctor?”

Dr. Heartbeat clears his throat as he uses his magic to flip through pages clipped to the board. As Trixie watches one page flip after the other, a growing weight of dread forms in her stomach and throat. And it gets nigh unbearable when she sees a nurse walk in and put up a series of x-ray photos of a skeleton that looks as though it might have been shattered and then stitched back together with metal plates and bolts.

“Trixie, I’m going to be very blunt. You need to retire,” says Dr. Heartbeat with the promised bluntness in his tone, frowning and putting bandages around the open wounds when he realizes what Trixie did.

“Why?” asks Trixie, shrugging sheepishly when everyone in the room gives her a disapproving look.

Dr. Heartbeat points at the x-ray photos. “That is your skeleton after we patched it up using state-of-the-art medical methods developed by an old friend of yours, Twilight Sparkle.”

Trixie’s eyes bulge, Fancy Pants forces a cough into his hoof, and Monte sings an “Awkward...”. However, despite the reactions, Dr. Heartbeat shows no signs of stopping as he reads from the list, and the nurse that had entered is serving only as an attractive, living prop.

“Nearly all of your bones were damaged in some way, with your left arm shattered at the hoof and cracked past the elbow, all the way up to the shoulder,” continues Dr. Heartbeat. “How you were able to breathe with the broken ribs is beyond me, you dislocated your right leg, cracked your hip, jawbone and your horn, and there was a leak in your horn’s magical fluids reserve that nearly bled dry, and on top of that, you did it all with a foal on the way. But luckily for you...”

Trixie doesn’t hear the rest of the doctor’s babbling, instead her head slowly turns to Monte with Fancy Pants’ turning just as slow. Both of their eyes narrowing and jaws tightening, albeit with Fancy Pants’ eyes burning hate and jaw so tight that his teeth are ready to shatter as his nostrils flare volcanic-like air. All Monte can do in this situation is shift his eyes so that he is looking at Trixie out of his peripheral vision, then he looks at Fancy Pants and flashes a worried smile with a pathetic squee.

“When in Bernese, right?” chuckles Monte uneasily.

Fancy Pants puts his hoof around Monte’s neck like a chump hug, only it is with enough brute power to make the showstallion buckle and seethe from the former enforcer’s hidden strength. Then Fancy Pants forces Monte out the door, leaving a perplexed Fleur and the rambling doctor alone with Trixie.

The last thing Trixie hears from Fancy Pants before the door closes is: “Monte, let’s say you and I talk somewhere private.”

Once the door shuts, Trixie realizes that the good doctor is giving orders to the nurse, and she, too, hurries out of the room. Trixie eyes the nurse suspiciously, and when the door closes yet again, she asks Dr. Heartbeat where she is going without taking her eyes off of the door.

“She just needs to make a phone call,” says Dr. Heartbeat. “Now, back to business.”

It takes the good doctor another twenty minutes explaining her condition and how she will have to go through extensive physical therapy and keep her magic use down to the bare minimum for a proper recovery. However, the doctor’s lecture would have been considerably shorter if he had not spent his time repeating how she ruined her skeletal structure and how stupid she had been in the first place for taking matters into her own hooves regarding the Celestial Spire in the early stages of pregnancy.

“Hey, look, bub! If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead!” snarls Trixie.

“I doubt it,” remarks Dr. Heartbeat.

Trixie huffs and looks back at Fleur, who is now sitting on one of the cushions, inspecting her hoof with a snotty posture, waiting for Fancy Pants with dwindling patience. Trixie also wonders where Fancy Pants went, and starts to get slightly worried that the older stallion might have taken Monte for a long walk off a short pier with cement around the zony’s hooves. She tries to tell herself that Fancy Pants would not do that to Monte, but her worrywort part of her brain is reminding her that Fancy Pants was an enforcer for her father’s mob, and nobody becomes an enforcer just because. Nicest enforcer or not, Trixie now knows that Canterlot’s most beloved celebrity has a dark side that he may or may not be using against Monte right now.

But the good news is that Trixie’s worries are put to rest when Fancy Pants walks back in Monte in tow. Although Monte is now pale shaking and looks as though he had been crying judging from the red in his eyes and how wet his coat is around the cheeks. Trixie frowns at Fancy Pants, asking him with a low growl what he and Monte talked about.

“Responsibilities is all,” says Fancy Pants, and looks at Monte, continuing: “I’m sure Monte will be more than happy to help you raise a child, right?”

Monte nods his head quickly. “Yep. Father of the Year. Parent-Teacher Conferences. The whole package of Hell-”

Fancy Pants snorts.

“-Enistic education that all kids should enjoy. I’m going to wait outside.”

Monte’s trot is a borderline run when he tries to leave the room, but right when he opens the door, the last pony that Trixie wants to see is standing in the doorway next to the nurse. And Trixie finds herself really wanting to smack the hoity toity, high-and-mighty look right off of the unicorn. With Twilight’s uptight posture emphasized by her dark suit, complete with a purple tie and R and D badge, and her expression is only made more hostile by the eyepatch that she has. Trixie briefly wonders why the Element of Magic is wearing an eyepatch, but doesn’t wonder too long. She is pregnant. Crippled. Unappreciated. And now Twilight is in her doorway. Life is Hell at the moment.

“What’s she doing here!” demands Trixie, her hoof aimed at Twilight with hostile intent.

Fancy Pants appears to share Trixie’s feelings, and he stands next to Trixie defensively and enacts a staring contest between him and Twilight.

“She wanted to be contacted as soon as you woke up,” says Dr. Heartbeat. He nudges Monte out of the way and with a polite wave of his hoof, he lets Twilight and the nurse in. “Apparently both of you have something to discuss.”

“And we have to do it privately,” adds Twilight, her one eye focusing on Trixie. “So, can everypony leave for just a few minutes?”

When nobody moves, Trixie looks at the doctor and he orders everyone out. It takes them another few seconds, but one by one they leave, with Fleur leaving quickly and Fancy Pants being the last, and casting a scrutinizing look at Twilight as he goes past her. Once the visitors are gone, Dr. Heartbeat and the nurse leave, and the doctor closes the door behind him.

Trixie and Twilight stare at each other for a few more seconds before Twilight speaks after putting up a bubble around them that shimmers lavender before disappearing.

“Well, I hope you’re happy, Trixie. You blew up a three billion bit project that could have provided water to all of Equestria,” says Twilight sourly.

Trixie huffs and folds her bandaged hooves over her chest. “Hey, I didn’t blow it up. It did that all by itself. Maybe your design sucked.”

“There was nothing wrong with my design! It was perfect and you destroyed it! Do you realize how much it would cost to rebuild it!?”

Trixie shrugs. “A lot.”

Twilight sighs heavily with a half lidded eye. “Yes, Trixie. It will cost a lot.”

Trixie gets an evil smile and reclines on her bed, hooves still folded over each other and eyes now closed.

“Sucks for you, then. I guess you better get to work,” she says with a victorious, snobby voice.

“Actually, believe it or not, I am here on business, and there is no point in putting it off, so I’m going to just spill it,” says Twilight. Trixie opens one eye and sees Twilight looking down, sighing with dread of what she has to say. “Princess Celestia thinks there is something to you, and she wants me to tutor you with your magic.”

Trixie’s eyes snap open and she sits as upright as she can in her bed, furious about the news. Princess Celestia has just made the ultimate trolling move. She knows she and Twilight get along about as well as arsenic and living things. Heck, the two nearly leveled a whole town when they got into a brawl! That should say enough!

“Are you kidding me!” yells Trixie. “There is no way I am going to be taught by a goody four hooves like you! Why can’t I get another teacher!? Why can’t Luna train me!? Why does Celestia hate me!?”

“No, I am not kidding you,” says Twilight deadpanned. “And I don’t care if you hate my guts because the feeling is mutual, but we are stuck together so we’re going to have to deal with it. And, no, you can’t get another teacher because Celestia ordered me to train you by royal decree and if you actually paid attention to the real world you would know that Luna is officially gone. And lastly, Celestia hates you because you make a mess of everything.”

“Oh, this is such bullshit! Where’s Pinkie Pie! I want to see her!”

Twilight cocks a brow. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? She’s my friend and I need her help to tell Celestia that she’s being an idiot!”

Trixie also knows that she needs to tell Pinkie Pie and Celestia about Custos and Luna’s warning about Sirius the Banished Son and his student, Sombra. And she also needs to tell Luna that she can’t do the hero stuff anymore since she has a foal on the way. But she is not going to tell Twilight about the threat. Not right now. She needs to get in the same room with Pinkie Pie so she can tell them at the same time, and have Pinkie Pie back her up in case Twilight tries to dismiss her as crazy. Pinkie Pie knows she is not crazy, after all. Or so she hopes. Both of them have a fair collection of sanity issues.

Twilight shakes her head, saying: “If that’s the case. Then no, you will not be seeing Pinkie Pie. Besides, she is in no condition to see anypony.”

Trixie pales and once again her mind starts spinning at all the horrible events that could possibly happen, with the worst being that Pinkie Pie is also in a coma.

“What’s wrong with Pinkie Pie?” asks Trixie.

Twilight lowers her eyes and lightly paws the ground.

“She is alive, but scarred badly,” says Twilight quietly. “She is covered in burns and... she’s just scarred badly and needs lots of rest. You can’t go up to her just so you can drag her along to tell off Celestia.”

“I want to see her,” says Trixie, eyes narrowing with determination and her body burning with pain as she tries to climb off of the bed. Twilight’s jaw drops and with a quick burst of her magic she puts Trixie back on the bed, despite the azure unicorn’s shouting and colorful swears. “Let me go! I need to see Pinkie Pie!”

“No! She can wait! We need to talk about your tutoring!” yells Twilight.

“Screw the tutoring! I need her to help me tell of Celestia and warn her about the Banished Son and Sombra!”

Twilight freezes, but still keeps her magic on Trixie. Trixie grunts and shifts in her spot, still trying to free herself, but her attempts are useless. Then she, too, pauses when Twilight comes uncomfortably close to her face. Trixie scrunches her nose and body, and tries seeking shelter by pressing her body as far into her bed as she can.

“What did you say?” asks Twilight, the fear plain in her eyes.

“Uh, Banished Son and Sombra?” replies Trixie uneasily.

“Who told you those names?”

“Why do you care?”

Twilight grabs Trixie’s shoulders and looks deep into her eyes with her single eye, which sends a shiver down Trixie’s spine from the fear freezing the Element of Magic’s soul.

“Trixie. Who. Told you?” demands Twilight.

“Luna and some faceless guy named Custos.”

Twilight releases Trixie, lowers her shield and hurries to the doorway. She pokes her head out and says: “Doctor, can you please take Trixie to see Pinkie Pie. Something has come up and I need to go.”

“Trixie is in no condition to be moved,” says the doctor from the hallway.

“But-”

“That no is final, Director.”

Trixie huffs and folds her hooves across her chest and looks at the blanket resentfully. Twilight, on the other hand, groans and looks back at Trixie.

“We’ll talk later. I need to go,” says the Element of Magic quickly.

Before Trixie can say anything, Twilight disappears in a bright flash of light, leaving her blinded and confused. And hoping that she left to tell Pinkie Pie herself.

Twilight appears in the same flash inside Celestia’s chambers. Normally one would not be able to get in without the approval of Celestia, but she has made an exception for Twilight since they are as close to each other as mother and daughter would be.

It takes Twilight a moment to realize that she is in the right room, since she is used to seeing Celestia’s room bright and decorated, not dark and dismal with no decorations. But after seeing Celestia sitting on a rug, staring distantly at a fireplace, she breathes a sigh of relief.

“Celestia, I have to tell you something,” says Twilight urgently as she quickly approaches Equestria’s ruler. Twilight comes to a stop, though, when Celestia turns her head, revealing a faint green glint in her eyes that fades when her hoof drops from her chest. “Princess?”

“Sorry, I’m not feeling well, Twilight.” Celestia says weakly.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” asks Twilight, cautiously approaching the alicorn.

The closer she gets to Celestia, the more she notices that her flowing mane is dropping and a very light, almost gray, shade of pink. Her coat is also dim, and not because of the lighting, either. It seems as though she is aging rapidly, and the pain in her eyes cannot be hidden. The Goddess of the Sun is burdened with great grief, and there is no hiding it, no matter how hard she has tried. Noting Twilight’s concerned stares, Celestia turns away from her star pupil and brushes her breastplate again, seething quietly and hunching over, prompting Twilight to step closer.

“Don’t,” orders Celestia, her hoof out as far as it can go.

Twilight stops. “But, Princess, you don’t look so good. You should see a doctor.”

“No doctor can cure this. Why have you come?”

Twilight blinks, trying to think what disease could possibly be so bad that it cannot be cured, much less effect a goddess so badly. But when Celestia looks at Twilight out of the corner of her eye with an aching frown, Twilight forces herself to stop searching her mental library and report to Celestia the huge problem that Trixie just told her about.

“Celestia, when I was your full time student, I did a lot of reading -obviously,” begins Twilight nervously, “and I came across a name -two names, actually- a long time ago that I did not hear again until five minutes ago. If that.”

“What names?” asks Celestia, her voice a near hoarse whisper as she brushes her breast plate again with her eyes shut in response to the pain.

“The Banished Son and Sombra.”

Celestia freezes and glares at Twilight, but she still has yet to move from her spot, so she has to turn her head to do so.

“Where you saw those names were locked in the Forbidden Archives,” growls Celestia, eyes narrowing and developing an eerie green hue in her irises. “You knew they were off limits since the first day you were my student!”

Twilight takes a step back, stammering: “I-I know, Princess, but when I told Trixie she kinda went on a tangent about needing to see Pinkie Pie and she blurted out those two names. She said Luna and somepony named Custos told her.”

Celestia’s eyes soften from a glare to bewilderment and she looks away from Twilight again, mouthing the names of Luna and Custos. Twilight braves a step forward and extends her hoof slightly.

“When I read about them, there wasn’t a lot. Way less than Nightmare Moon, actually. It is like somepony tried to erase them from history.”

“And they should have,” sneers Celestia. The flames in the fireplace shoot up with a quick flare that brightens the room and reveals the quivering Celestia is suffering from with her tense muscles. “Twilight, I have done everything in my power to spare this world of this great evil, even though I knew it was hopeless as soon as Luna returned from her banishment.”

Twilight gasps. “Princess, are you blaming Luna?”

“Regardless of what you think, Twilight, Luna’s return set things into motion that could not be undone,” says Celestia, her voice now a low rumble. “There is a great evil looming over not just Equestria, but the world. The Banished Son and His Most Faithful Student have tested the waters and are now preparing for an assault. We must stop them and their servants, no matter what.”

“We can use the Elements of Harmony to-”

“No. They won’t work.”

“Yes the will! We saved Luna and stopped Discord with them.”

“The Elements won’t work on them.”

“Yes they can! We just need to find Applejack and-”

“THE ELEMENTS CANNOT SAVE US!” bellows Celestia with an unexpected burst of rage, now standing tall and fearsome with her wings expanded and the fire roaring behind her wildly. She snorts and stomps towards Twilight, with each stomp sending her fading mane flapping in rebellious strands across her face and leaving her panting and the gem on her armor glowing. “The Banished Son and his Most Faithful Students have become lost to the darkness, Twilight. They are so lost that not even the light of the Elements can save them. All they desire is chaos and pain.”

Celestia’s voice drops to a cynical whisper and she slithers around Twilight, not caring that she has shrunken down as far as she can go without laying on the floor to curl up.

“Besides, what use are the Elements now? They are broken. Your so-called friends hide like cowards, toy with the lives of others and use their wealth and influence to reject reality or build a new one,” says Celestia, the gem pulsating a sickening green like a heartbeat. “You do not understand this, Twilight, but I do for I lived through it. Some ponies, some creatures, refuse talk. They refuse peace and only understand hate and the fires of war. And those are the only ways we can break them. We stab them, bash them, burn them, and stomp them into the ground until they cannot get up. Then, and only then, will they accept surrender or use what little strength they have left to make a final stand that will end them.”

Celestia stops in front of Twilight and stands as tall as her form can allow.

“Harmony and Equus is in danger, Twilight, and it is my responsibility to protect both. That is why you are being ordered to train Trixie,” explains the goddess. “We will need many powerful allies to stop this threat and end it permanently.”

Twilight stares at Celestia, the fairest and wisest of all rulers, in disbelief. This is not the Celestia she knows. The Celestia she knows would do everything she could to use the Elements of Harmony to stop the threats, not dismiss them as childish. Twilight risks losing eye contact when she glances at the armor Celestia is wearing, noticing how the gem on the front of her breastplate is still glowing green. Just by looking at it sends an uneasy feeling through her gut and up her spine. When Celestia’s eyes narrow, Twilight looks up at the Princess of the Sun.

“I trust you will complete the task at hoof with great diligence as you have done with all the ones before,” says Celestia, her harsh voice bouncing off the walls.

“Y-Yes, Princess,” stutters Twilight.

Twilight bows and starts towards the chamber exit when Celestia calls her again. Twilight stops and looks over her shoulder to see Celestia’s proud stance being corrupted by a gleam of worry in her eyes.

“What I am doing will save us all, in the end, you do know that right?” Celestia asks.

“Of course,” replies Twilight quickly.

“Good. Train her well, Twilight.”

Twilight nods and exits the room quickly, and when Celestia hears the door bang shut behind her, she releases a heavy sigh and looks up at the crackling fire with tears in her eyes as she brushes the emerald on the front of her breastplate, making it glow a shade of green and release an archaic whisper that makes her wince. She then opens her eyes and glares at the fires with determination burning more powerful than the flames before her.

“Victory will not be yours,” she hisses.

Hours later, when the moon is full and bright, Trixie lies on her cot, underneath her flimsy blanket, listening to a very boring radio station with Monte by her side. She feels better with him by her side, but isn’t so sure about the two EIB agents posted outside her room. Granted, Andromeda seemed genuinely concerned about her safety when she showed up personally with hoof-selected guards, but Trixie’s past experience with the EIB has left a nasty mark on her. So, to make her feel better, Monte had called some of his security guards and had them wait outside with the EIB guards.

“So, Twilight is supposed to train you, eh?” says Monte.

Trixie nods with a scowl. “Yeah. This is going to end badly. I just know it.”

“So, does that mean you have to move to Ponyville?”

“I hope not. I’d rather be trained somewhere stupidly far. Like at Applewood or Baltimare. Heck, I’d even take Manehatten.”

Monte smiles. “Or you can stay and train in Canterlot so you won’t have to travel far from my casino. I’d even rig the games so Twilight loses every single time if you’d want me to.”

Trixie chuckles, loving the idea, but knowing that it is also incredibly stupid, illegal, and a very quick way to have government agents tearing down the whole place for fraud.

“Sorry, but I’d rather beat Twilight at her own game than ruin her bank account,” says Trixie with a dark smile.

Monte nods with a forced smile, and is about to say something when an EIB agent and one of Monte’s guards walk in.

“Excuse me, Ms. Lulamoon,” says the EIB agent, “but you have a visitor. He’s clean and says he has just one question for you.”

Trixie groans and slouches against her bed. “Not another reporter! Isn’t it past visiting hours?”

“No, that will be in another five minutes. Do you want us to send him away?”

Trixie sighs and shakes her head, thinking that one more question for the day can’t possibly hurt. Besides, if it is a stupid one she can always have the guards toss the said reporter out into an alley. And coverage is good, too. She’s liking all the positive attention she is getting now, even if some of the questions had been strange in nature. Like the one freelancer from Sinful Joys Press comics that asked her about fetishes. Needless to say, she had been very surprised when Monte personally threw the guy out and ordered his guards to “teach him some manners”.

The two EIB guards leave and tell the visitor that he has two minutes. Trixie’s ears perk, though, when she hears a “Thank you” in a heavy Bernese accent, her color drains from her body and when a familiar, old ibex steps in the room, wearing a thrift store trench coat and simple cap nestled between his horns she wants to scream.

Monte has a similar reaction when he sees the ibex.

“Ah crap!” cries Monte.

Shekel looks at Monte. “It has been too long, Mr. Fountain.”

“Too bad it hadn’t been longer.”

Trixie looks at the two, and almost yells for the guards to drag the goat out, but stops herself when she remembers Luna’s message. And the guards said he had only one question, so the two seem to fit together in her opinion, but to be on the safe side, she doesn’t disclose anything about Luna or her crazy dream.

Shekel looks at Trixie, studying the injuries that pepper her body. “You seem to have seen better days.”

“What gave you that idea?” says Trixie dryly.

“You’re not here to arrest me, are you?” asks Monte. When Trixie gives him a strange look, he quickly adds: “Or her? Or both of us at the same time?”

Shekel shows no signs of being affected by Trixie’s remark or Monte’s babbling when he continues with: “As much as I would like to arrest you, Lulamoon, for your crimes against Bernese, and you, Fountain, for public indecency, I cannot. I came only to ask one question for you, Lulamoon. Do you accept the mission?”

Luna’s words flood back into Trixie’s memory like a frozen, glass filled river. There is no denying that Luna and Custos are in fear of the two beings making their comeback, but ever since she got the news and spilled the beans to Twilight in a completely unintentional way, she had started thinking about what she has to do.

Trixie looks at her stomach, tears swelling in her eyes with a wet lump in her throat, and she looks at Monte, who looks at her worryingly, and then at Shekel and shakes her head.

“I can’t,” she says quietly.

Shekel stares at her for an uncomfortable amount of time, his eyes drifting towards her hoof placed over her stomach. He then nods his head and offers a small, proud smile, and Trixie notices a slight shimmer in his reddening eyes.

“I understand. Congratulations,” he says. “I will tell her not to bother you anymore. We will just have to use the other one we have been observing. You, on the other hoof, stay focused on what is important.”

Trixie nods, and Shekel tips his head politely towards each of the unicorns, then walks out and closes the door behind him with a barely heard click. Monte stares at the doorway with a quizzical expression for a few seconds before he finds the words to describe the brief incident.

“That was weird,” he says, and then he looks at Trixie, who now has her head bowed and tears running down her cheeks. He puts his hoof on Trixie’s and tries to look into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“This sucks,” sniffles Trixie.

“Why?”

Trixie glares at Monte. “You know why! You said it yourself, you hate kids, and I can’t be a good mom! I mean, look at me! Look at what I- Argh, this sucks! We aren’t even married!”

Trixie screams in aggravation and puts her hooves over her eyes while kicking her hind legs wildly under the covers like she is trying to ward off an intruder. She then throws her hooves down, leaving her mane a disheveled mess and her face soaked in tears. She throws her head down and starts sobbing in her hooves, and Monte grabs her and hugs her tight, gently sushing her and stroking her mane with his hoof.

“I can make an exception for one little puke machine,” says Monte softly into Trixie’s ear. Trixie sniffles again and looks at Monte skeptically, and he looks down at her with a smile and tears in his eyes as well. “And who knows, you might be a good mom. You’ll never know unless you try, right?”

“This is a kid, Monte, not a show,” says Trixie venomously. “And no offense, but you’re not exactly a father figure, either.”

Monte grins. “We’ll see about that.” Then he hugs Trixie again and says with a smile on his face: “But you’ll be changing all the diapers.”

Trixie remains stiff, but as the seconds tick by in Monte’s embrace, she begins to consider the options. Aborting the child is out of the question for her, but she doesn’t know if she can keep the soon-to-be foal or raise them as her own. She knows she has a bad history, and her recent activities have left a very public mark, and she doesn’t want her child to be the target of carnivorous journalists and their paparazzi pups. She also doesn’t want to send them to an orphanage where there is a chance that they will be adopted by a crazy couple. Or worse, the kid coming back twenty years later to confront her about abandoning them when they were born, leading them down a path fraught with crime, tears, alcohol abuse and multiple foster homes occupied by fake parents that have given up on him or her. Or both if she gets twins. Needless to say, Trixie gets increasingly more and more uneasy about the horrible scenarios that can play out if she puts up the kid for adoption. Then she starts thinking about what would happen if she kept them.

If she keeps the child, then some maniac might use the baby as leverage to make her do dastardly deeds around the world! Or-

“Trixie, you need to relax,” says Monte, now rubbing her back and peering into her eyes.

“I am relaxed,” says Trixie with a nervous smile.

“You’re shaking.”

Trixie looks at herself and realizes that she is, in fact, shaking, and she looks back at the zony again, eyes watering and lips trembling once more, and Monte gently wraps her in a protective hug.

“Everything’s gonna be alright,” says Monte. “I promise.”

Trixie gulps and returns the hug with limp, shaky hooves and nods her head quickly, saying in a cracking, quiet voice: “Okay.”

Trixie closes her eyes and leans in closer to Monte, still shaking and sniffling from her brain going into overdrive about what she is going to do, or what could happen, when the kid comes.

“If we get a colt, I got a name for him,” says Monte gently.

Trixie keeps her eyes closed and her hug weak around Monte. “What?”

“Bibi!” cheers Monte with a huge, proud grin.

Trixie’s eyes open with furrowed brows and says one simple word.

“No.”

The constant humming vibrating off the walls from the worthless heaters is something Shining Armor has been loathing for the last hour. Or maybe it was two. For all the former Captain of the Royal Guard knows, he’s been in the dungeon for a good three hours. The perception of time does not seem to exist in the concrete room, nor does heat. He can see the heater, hear the heater, but the former Captain of the Royal Guard is guessing that the concrete walls have been enchanted by the universe to make his life more of a living Hell than it already is.

Try stopping a sociopath from escaping Ponyville?

Done. With a side of a crippled horn and busted leg that is now deciding to act up when he needs for it to not do to such a thing.

How about putting an end to Brisk Wind’s treachery?

Done. But all the credit goes to Andromeda, while he is stuck in a goat prison with his marriage completely destroyed, as well as his family relations since he has yet to see any of them ever since Celestia made her big decision. Which he doesn’t even want to think about why Celestia would rather pick a terrorist leader over him when they gave her the choice between the two.

The more Shining Armor thinks about Celestia and her new government, the more he thinks of her as the queen bitch. Backstabber also comes to mind, but what little loyalty he has for the Equestrian government is telling him that she had a very good reason. So all in all, her decision had been fully justified. However, that voice of loyalty is but a faint whisper in his ears, and the screams of rage are like barbarians burning down the city of Canterlot, with the entire Council and Celestia chained down so they cannot escape the flames they fueled.

Shining Armor squeezes his eyes shut, shuddering at the disturbing thought he had just concocted. He has definitely been in prison too long, and to further his own point, he glances up at his reflection, scowling at what he has become in the many months he has been stuck in prison, moving from facility to facility at random times to keep Equestrian intelligence confused.

His white coat and electric blue mane are now discolored by grime, leaving streaks of caked in brown all over, his mane is disheveled, and large, near black bags under his now hardened eyes make him look like a genetically destined emo. And as much as he tries to see an honorable soldier, who knows manners and can dress and groom himself quite well without a lovely wife showing him a proper brush stroke, he cannot. All he sees is the mess he had become by trying to keep his nation safe from the poison in its own veins.

Shining Armor snaps out of his thoughts when the steel door opens up by sliding into the wall. Steel grinds against steel, and bangs to a stop, and the weary stallion glances to the doorway, watching an ibex step inside with a simple suit and a folder in his mouth. The ibex is an average built, but his thick bluish-gray coat is bulging out from his coat collar, and his eyes remain calm in the face of the hardened pony in front of him. After setting the folder down, the door shuts and ibex sits across from Shining Armor and extends his hoof with a warm smile.

“It is an honor to be in your presence, Captain Armor,” says the ibex with youthful enthusiasm. When Shining Armor tries halfheartedly lifting his hooves with a deadpanned look to show the chains holding him down, the ibex’s hoof droops and his smile turns somewhat sheepish. “Forgive me, for I have forgotten our policies dictated that your kind are to be chained.”

Shining Armor arches a brow, partially wondering if he genuinely forgot, or if he is a special kind of ass. And if he is, then Shining Armor really wants to say something to the goat in front of him, something snarky like how he used to make Brisk Wind squirm with his comebacks. No matter how cheap they were, they always made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, knowing he could get under the now-dead bitch’s skin so easily. But, alas, he is now stuck inside an unknown prison, talking to a fluffy ibex who looks way too optimistic to be in this line of work which may or may not be a cover for a sinister plot concocted by the universe to screw him over even more. He decides to wait and see if the ibex is youthfully naive or if he is, in fact, another jerk.

“My name is Ozean, and I have to say, I hold a great deal of respect for you,” continues the ibex, apparently not caring about the skeptical look that Shining Armor is giving him. “What you did to root out corruption and fight crime is legendary. Not many would travel to foreign lands to bring down a corrupt politician.”

“What do you want?” asks Shining Armor in a tired growl.

“I want you to be free.”

Shining Armor stares at Ozean, and slowly but surely, a twisted smile cracks on Shining Armor’s face and he releases a mad chuckle as he shakes his head in disbelief. His chuckle turns into a forced laughter that bounces off the walls, and he looks at his reflection in the mirror, certain he is being watched.

“[Very funny, assholes!]” shouts Shining Armor in Bernesenese, but completely lacking the accent. He chuckles darkly and shakes his head again, this time tilting his head down so he would not have to see his disgraceful appearance or the stupid smile Ozean has. When he is done chuckling, he sniffles and looks back at the bluish ibex, and says in a low voice as he leans closer: “You must think I’m an idiot, Ocean.”

“Ozean,” corrects the ibex coolly.

“Like I care. What’s the catch, huh? There’s gotta be a catch.”

Ozean pushes the folder forward. “There is a catch, Captain, and while my words remain true, we cannot just give you a free pass. Bernese is still upset about what you did, and they are even more upset about Ms. Lulamoon’s diplomatic immunity due to her becoming Equestria’s national hero. Now, I talked to Chancellor Scale and the Committee of National Defense personally, and they all agree that there is some use for you.”

“If you think that I am going to give over any plans about my nation’s defense, then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. They would have changed them, reworked everything. Positions, codes, you name it. It is gone.”

“And what makes you think I care about such things?”

“Why else would you keep me here and say there is use for me?”

Ozean flips the folder open, revealing a picture of a near midaged, metrosexual type ibex. It is a sloppy shot of him in a cafe with another older ibex that Shining Armor can’t help but think is ex-military, judging from his disciplined stature and sharp upkeep of his suit. With the said photo is a collection of the same ibexes at some rallies from many locations, and with those are aftermath of terrorist bombings and shooting sprees, leaving many covered in bloody white sheets and permanently scarred survivors.

“This is Rotes Leinen,” says Ozean, his tone still calm and his hoof aimed at the hipster ibex, “founder and leader of the Gold Star Movement. A terrorist organization within our nation. Our contact inside has gathered much intel, and we think you will be interested in what we have to offer you.”

“And why is that?” asks Shining Armor.

Ozean flips another page and shows Shining Armor an older photo of Rotes being hugged by a striking similar female ibex that is at least twice his age. Behind him is the University of Stalliongrad banner congratulating their new graduates, and upon seeing that, Shining Armor gets a boulder in his stomach. He knows what Ozean is implying, and he is really hoping that it is not the case, because if it is, then he knows Equestria is in some serious hot water.

“Before Blueblood was assassinated, Leinen worked for Blueblood’s public relations office. Blueblood spent quite a bit of time in the presence of Quill Pen to flaunt his ego, but Leinen had shared a class in journalism in the University of Stalliongrad with her. However, two days after Leinen returned to Bernese, Blueblood was assassinated and the Gold Stars were formed. Two weeks later, they carried out their first attack on a cafe that killed many, including a retired general and a little girl.”

Shining Armor looks at Ozean in disbelief, and the ibex nods his head slowly as he turns the folder to show an aftermath photo of the Blueblood assassination. The prince’s head has a single hole in his head, and his own blood and brains all over the wagon he came from when about to enter the Canterlot Palace. Next to the photo of Blueblood’s body is that of the cafe bombing aftermath, and Shining Armor immediately notices a younger, but still familiar Shekel being treated with other survivors. He then glances over the profile of the assassinated general and notices that he had declined a call for help for a platoon bogged down by griffins in a long ago battle. Before he can read further, Ozean catches his attention by speaking to him once more.

“Your war to save Equestria is far from over, Captain,” says Ozean grimly. “Just as Bernese’s war is far from finished. We have reasons to believe that Leinen and the one called ‘the Painter’ have joined forces to ensure our nations are destroyed.”

“How do you know all this?” asks Shining Armor, his tone grave and begging for an answer as questions swirl in his mind. Questions such as how he -or anyone else- could have missed the connection between a terrorist organization and Blueblood’s public relations office. Or why Rotes Leinen never turned up in any files regarding the slain prince. He can’t help but think that Brisk Wind and Lock had something to do with it, given the circumstances between the crazy strain of events and the two ponies rotting in Hell.

“We have a contact inside the Gold Stars, and he is warning us of a large scale operation Leinen has named ‘Storm Cloud’,” says Ozean.

“Storm Cloud?” repeats Shining Armor curiously, with a part of him thinking that such a code name sounds completely retarded. However, with the dark expression the ibex is holding, he sees no reason in vocalizing his opinion.

“If this operation is as severe as we think it is, then they are going to start a war that will destroy both of our nations. Why? We do not yet know, but they must be stopped. For both of our sakes. If you help us destroy the Gold Stars your debt will be repaid, and your nation will be safe, but deny us and there will be consequences. The choice is yours, Captain Armor. Will you help us, or will you let two nations burn?”

And with that, Ozean closes his folder and stares at Shining Armor, waiting silently for his answer. As he stares, Shining Armor looks down at the floor with the burden of millions of lives now back on his shoulders. Should he decline, there is no telling what will happen to Twilight, his parents, or Cadence. While thinking about the suffering his loved ones will face, his mind wanders towards Colt and L. Roy. He starts wondering if those two got themselves mixed up in this mess since they ran off with escaped convicts when the mechanical pony attacked the prison. With that small thought, guilt bears down on him as he realizes that he had put his friends in danger of a retaliation from the Bernese government, which he learned very quickly that they take retaliations to the extreme.

Shining Armor tries to think of the possible outcomes of the situation, or if Ozean is truthful with the vague connection the Gold Stars have to the Blueblood assassination, but his mind is as numb as his shivering body. He can’t think straight. All he can imagine is seeing two of his friends dead with gunshot wounds to their heads and his family suffering in the flames he had only moments ago desired to light. But when he thinks about the flames, and the training he underwent to prepare for his career as a military pony, he takes himself back to the day he took the first step towards his dream.

The room had not been as crowded as he had thought, and while he has long forgotten the faces, the proud banners and the golden pillars lining the room remain clear, as well as the seal of the Royal Guard. He remembers how they were all grilled on the proper hoof salute before the used-to-be Captain of the Royal Guard Sturdy Shield entered to give their oaths of affirmation. He remembers how the hooves snapped up in unison and how the gruff stallion had them recite the most important words of his life.

The more Shining Armor thinks about those words, the more he remembers who he is. He is a protector of the innocents. He is their shield. Their armor. Their guardian. And even if he is locked in a foreign prison, he still took an oath to protect Equestria and her citizens from any and all threats. And oaths do not stop upon retirement or jail time.

Shining Armor takes a deep, long breath, and looks at Ozean with a flare in his tired eyes, and he gives his answer with one simple motion.

A nod.

Author's Notes:

I... Am really bad at endings. Seriously, I had no idea how to end this story, and for that, I apologize for the lack of whatever joy and happiness you were hoping for.

Anyway, for those wondering why it is the way it is, I'll just say that through a series of events -both fortunate and unfortunate- I have had to rush things to prepare for the next step in the life of a converted brony. Now, when things settle down, I'm hoping I could hop on over to put the Guardians Project in full swing, with the next one being "Storm Cloud"! Starring colorful ponies and a more stable story line that will get more than just a 5.5 out of 10.

That is all today. Good day and God bless!