The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon and the street lamps were casting the streets in a hazy orange glow by the time the friends got back to the Temple. They sat wearily around the kitchen table, unable to look at one another. Spike sniffled, his face marred by tear tracks. In his claw was the photograph of Canvas Glow, still smiling up at him.

“Backhoe was a member of this temple,” Pastor Joyful told them as she stood at the stove, preparing a potato and cheese dish for them to share. “He was a good stallion, a good father to his daughter.”

“Who’s going to be taking care of her?” Twilight asked.

“Her mother will be caring for her now,” Joyful answered. Her upbeat smile had vanished, and the tranquility of her character had disappeared, replaced by a deep exhaustion that spoke of the weight of the many losses and deaths that she had been forced to endure. Removing the casserole dish from the stove with her magic, she brought the dish over to the table and set it down in the center.

“Dear Lord—”

“No.”

Everypony turned to Phillip, who had stood up away from the table; it was the first time he had spoken since Backhoe had died on the curb. He glared up at Joyful, his gray eyes burning.

“Don’t talk to me about God,” he declared, his voice rising to a shout. “Where was He when Backhoe died? Where was He when Rose died? Where is He now, while there are ponies starving and dying out there in the streets?!” He glared at Joyful, breathing heavily with repressed emotion, tears stinging at his eyes.

“Phillip, calm down,” Twilight chastised him. “You—”

“It’s all right, child,” Joyful cut in, her voice as calm as ever. She turned to Phillip, her gaze even. “God didn’t kill Backhoe. He didn’t tell Backhoe to go to that street corner and talk to you. He didn’t pull the triggers on those guns.”

“So, you’re saying that God can’t do anything,” Phillip snapped back. “So what good is He, then?”

“I didn’t say that God couldn’t do anything,” Joyful said patiently. “Please, take a deep breath and calm yourself.”

Phillip glared at Joyful for a moment longer, then slowly closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You’re right, sorry,” he said, sitting down. “It’s tragic, but we need to focus on finding Anchor Point.”

“Why?” Spike muttered, still not looking up from the photograph. “What’s that going to solve?”

“We came here to solve White Rose’s murder, and finding Anchor Point is the next step,” Phillip replied.

“What’s the point?” Spike snapped back, glaring at him. “We find him, we catch the bad guys, they go to jail. Then what?!”

“Spike—” Phil started to say.

“No, he’s right,” Twilight interrupted. “It’s clear that the problem here isn’t just the gangs. It extends much deeper than that.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do about it?” Phillip replied.

“We have to do something!” Spike shouted, banging his fist against the table.

“You’re right,” Flash agreed. “The ponies here need help.”

“And right now, you all need some food,” Joyful said. “Please, eat.”

The friends tucked into the meal, eating slowly; the day’s events had left them ravenous, but they found the food tasteless, and the supper did little to lift their spirits. Once the dinner was finished, Spike offered to help Joyful with the dishes. She accepted with a smile, managing to coax a small grin from him.

“We’ve been wasting time,” Phillip declared. “I need to keep an eye on Plum Dessert. If he’s got Anchor Point holed up somewhere, he’s going to have to lead me to him at some point.”

“Agreed,” Twilight said, lighting her horn. “Hold still for a minute, I’ll help disguise you.” She carefully cast her magic over Phillip, gently altering his appearance. Within a minute, Phillip had disappeared, replaced with a pale green earth pony with a ragged coat and a sandy yellow mane, tail and scruffy beard. Instead of a magnifying glass, his cutie mark was a trio of blue hoofprints, and his vest was blue and tattered.

“Be careful,” Twilight warned him. “Illusion spells are fragile. It’ll fade over time and it’ll disappear if you reveal your identity.”

“Thanks,” Phillip said, removing his trilby and handing it to Flash. Flash took the hat tenderly, treating it with deep respect. “I’ll contact you when I have something solid.”

“What do you want us to do in the meantime?” Flash asked.

“What you always do,” Phillip replied, reaching up and putting his hoof on Flash’s shoulder. “The right thing.” He pressed his head against Flash’s, briefly rubbing against him before releasing and turning to leave.

“Phillip, wait a moment,” Joyful called out. “I want to show you something.” She used her magic to take a polished silver platter out of the cupboard and held it up in front of him. “You asked where God was. He’s right there.”

Phil looked at her, then at his reflection. “That’s not God. That’s just me.”

“Are you sure?” Joyful asked sagely. “If God is everywhere, then isn’t He part of you?”

Phillip looked up at her. “God hasn’t wanted anything to do with me for a long time.”

“You’re His child. Of course He does,” Joyful smiled. She placed the platter back in the cupboard and returned to washing the dishes, quietly humming. Phillip stared at her for a moment longer, his thoughts swimming in his eyes, then silently continued towards the door.

“Be careful!” Flash called after him.

“You, too,” Phillip replied before exiting the temple, disappearing into the darkness as the door closed behind him. Flash looked down at his mentor’s trilby in his hooves, slowly turning it around in his hooves.

“He’ll come back,” Twilight reassured him.

Flash nodded slowly and swallowed. For once, he could not quite bring himself to believe her words.

Phillip hurried down the street, leaping from a dumpster onto the rooftops of the houses and speeding across them, taking the shortest route possible to Plum Dessert’s apartment. He could feel the magic of the illusion spell on his body, tingling like static electricity. The cool night air embraced him, calming him even as his heart beat heavily in his chest from the exertion. He leapt across alleyways, vaulted obstacles, tumbled across rooftops.

As he ran, he thought about Flash and Twilight. For a moment, he considered turning around and going back, returning to their side.

But he shook the thought from his head. As much as he’d appreciate their help on this, he could handle a solo surveillance on his own; they would attract too much attention. And besides, they could do more good helping others than he ever could.

Making it to the street across from his target’s apartment building, he lowered himself down to the street via the fire escape and huddled in the alleyway, pondering his next move.

Suddenly, his head burst with pain: his veins froze and his icicles pierced his lungs and heart. He leaned against the wall, gasping in shock and shivering as the crime sense warning passed over him. Dozens of faces raced past his vision, causing his dinner to lurch within his stomach. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, waiting for the crime sense’s warning to pass.

The sound of an approaching engine caught his attention. He looked up to see a motorized carriage, its sides marked “FILLYDELPHIA CITY GUARD” trundling down the street. It stopped in front of the apartment building and three City Guards, fully clad in armor, climbed out.

“Uh-oh,” Phillip muttered to himself, exiting the alley. He walked across the street, hurrying without appearing to hurry. The City Guards bustled to the door and hit the buzzer for Apartment 3B.

“Who is it?” Plum Dessert’s voice called through the scratchy speaker.

“City Guard, open up!” the leader of the trio barked. Almost immediately, there was a buzzing as the front door unlocked. The Guards shoved the door open and stomped inside, Phillip right on their heels.

“Hey, thanks, guys,” he said, mimicking a lower Fillydelphia accent and giving the rear Guard a broad smile. “Of all the nights to lose my key—”

The Guard silenced him with a grunt. Phil fell silent, following behind them up the stairs to the third floor. The trio of Guards surrounded the door to 3B. One of them glared at Phil. “Move on, pal.”

“All right, all right,” Phil said, continuing up the stairs. “None of my business.” He moved out of their sight, continuing up the stairs, then paused at the landing, leaning down to listen.

He heard the door to the apartment creak open. “What do you want?” Plum’s voice asked timidly.

“Where’s Anchor Point?” a Guard’s voice asked gruffly.

“My...brother?” Plum stammered. “Isn’t he dead?”

“Don’t play dumb with us,” another Guard snarled. “We know Phillip Finder and his friends came here, so we know there’s more to this. Where’s Anchor Point?”

“I don’t...he…” Plum stuttered.

With a loud crash, one of the Guards kicked the door open. Plum cried out as the door crashed into him, knocking him to the floor. There was the sound of three swords being drawn.

“One more time,” the Guard growled again. “Where is Anchor Point?”

That was enough. Plucking his boomerang from his vest, Phillip vaulted over the railing and landed on the stairs, immediately tossing the weapon out. It whirled through the air and struck the rear Guard on the wrist, knocking his sword from his grasp and sending it skittering down the hallway. The Guard turned around just in time to see a green earth pony sprint up and leap into the air, driving his knee into his jaw and knocking him out. The other two Guards turned around as Phil drew his baton, the weapon clicking loudly as it unfolded. Plum Dessert, who was still laying on the floor of his entry hallway, stared in shock.

Another Guard, a steel gray pegasus, immediately thrusted at Phillip with his sword. He deflected the strike and tried to counterattack with a roundhouse elbow strike to the jaw, but the Guard ducked and retreated slightly, raising his sword for another strike. Phillip weaved underneath the blade, simultaneously using his free hoof to snatch a coat hanging from the wall and fling it into the face of the third Guard, momentarily blinding the dark green earth pony. “Run, Plum!” he shouted. Spurred to action, Plum scrambled to his hooves and ran a safe distance away.

Phillip grasped his baton in both hooves and deflected the Guard’s next two strikes, maneuvering himself so that his opponent was between him and the third Guard. Snarling, the Guard swung at Phillip’s head. Phil blocked the strike and closed in, headbutting the Guard in the jaw and staggering him.

Grunting and snarling, the pegasus punched Phillip in the face; he stumbled, but managed to grab his enemy’s sword arm. Pulling the arm close, he used his body as a fulcrum and spun the pegasus around, smashing him into the wall.

The third Guard seized his chance and cut at Phillip’s head. He ducked, grabbed the Guard’s arm as it passed over his head, and struck at the joint with his baton, forcing it to suddenly bend past its natural limit. There was a loud crack and the Guard dropped his sword, howling in agony.

The pegasus braced against the wall and bucked backwards, striking Phillip in the chest and sending him crashing into the opposite wall and slumping to the floor. Recollecting his sword, the pegasus cut down at Phillip, forcing him to clumsily roll out of the way. Before he had time to fully get back up, the sword flew at his head once more. Phillip blocked the attack with his baton, but received a hard kick in the face that sent him sprawling to the floor, the baton clattering to his side and blood filling his nostrils.

A victorious grin spread across the corrupt Guard’s face and he towered over Phillip, thrusting his blade down at him. Phillip rolled to the side, the blade impacting the floor less than inch away from him. “Hold still!” the pegasus growled, thrusting again.

Sitting up, Phillip seized the pegasus’ hoof and pulled him in close, yanking the weapon harmlessly aside. Letting go with one hoof, he snatched a small black spray bottle from an inside pocket in his vest and sprayed the contents into his enemy’s mouth. The pegasus staggered back with a choked yell, clutching his throat and coughing heavily as the pepper spray burned his throat.

A distinctive click warned Phillip. Looking up, he saw the third Guard drawing a jet black revolver with his good arm, his broken arm dangling uselessly by his side. Gritting his teeth in pain and fury, the earth pony aimed the weapon at Phillip.

Reacting instantly, Phillip ducked down, raised his hind legs and bucked out, hitting the choking pegasus in the chest. The Guard flew backwards and crashed into his partner, causing them both to stumble. Forcing himself to ignore the pain of his wounds, Phillip flipped back to his hooves and snatched his baton back up.

With a grunt, the gunpony shoved his partner to the floor and took aim again. Leaping up, Phillip kicked off the wall as his attacker fired, the bullet missing him by inches. He counterattacked in midair, disarming the Guard with a strike to the hoof and simultaneously delivering a one-two punch to the jaw, knocking him down. A final roundhouse kick to the chin finished the fight.

Phillip leaned against the wall, panting heavily. The adrenaline began to wear off, and his injuries began to clamour for attention; his head pounded like there was a hammer inside his skull, his broken nose throbbed, and judging by the fiery pain that spread through his chest every time he breathed, his ribs were broken in at least three places. He glanced around at his downed attackers; the Guard that he had first knocked out was sprawled outside in the hallway, the one who had tried to shoot him was slumped against the wall, and the pegasus was laying on the floor, panicked tears streaming down his visored face as he struggled to breathe.

“Help me!” the Guard rasped. “I don’t wanna die!”

“You’re not going to die,” Phillip grunted, lifting himself off the wall and walking into the kitchen. Retrieving a glass from the drying rack, he filled it up with water and returned to the Guard. Crouching down next to him, he poured the water onto the victim’s mouth and nose to wash away the pepper, then tilted his head back and helped him swallow the rest of the water.

The Guard sighed in relief and coughed. “Thank you—” he wheezed, but his expression of gratitude was cut off by Phillip’s knockout left hook.

“Plum!” he called out. “You can come out now, it’s safe.”

Plum Dessert emerged from his office, trembling from head to tail. “Who...who are you?” he whimpered.

“Phillip Finder,” Phil replied. At his word, he felt the illusion spell melt away, revealing his true identity. “Plum, where’s your brother?”

“Roof...he’s hiding on the roof…” Plum stammered.

“Okay. Call an ambulance,” he ordered the other pony, who nodded and quickly trotted back into his office. He walked outside and grabbed the unconscious Guard laying in the hallway outside, dragging him into the apartment entryway. He took the Guards’ shackles out of their saddlebags and shackled all three of them together, pocketing the keys.

“All right, I called an ambulance,” Plum declared, reemerging from his office.

“Good,” Phillip said. “We need to get your brother.”

Plum nodded and exited the apartment, walking quickly to the stairs and heading up towards the roof, with Phillip close behind him.

“When White Rose was killed, we both knew it was only a matter of time before they came after him,” Plum explained as they ascended. “Not long after her murder, a Nightmare Snake broke into Anchor’s home, but Anchor managed to surprise him in his office and killed him with his shotgun. He called me in a panic; I was the one who suggested he destroy the body and fake his death. I’ve been hiding him here ever since; whenever somepony came, I told him to go up to the roof to hide.” He swallowed and looked back at Phillip. “If I did something illegal—”

“You were doing right by your brother,” Phillip reassured him. “Nopony can blame you for that.”

Plum nodded, managing a weak smile as he pushed open the door to the rooftop. They emerged into the cold evening air, the gravel of the rooftop crunching beneath their hooves.

“Over there,” Plum pointed. Phillip spotted a figure standing on the edge of the rooftop, staring down at the inky blackness of the street below. Anchor Point was thinner than he had been in the picture, worry and grief having taken a great toll on his health. His silvery-blue mane had receded and his coat was unkempt. He did not react as they approached.

“Anchor?” Plum called out. “It’s all right, Mr. Finder took care of the Guards—”

Anchor Point briefly glanced up. No spark shone in his blue eyes as he glanced at Phillip; fresh tear tracks lined his face. “There’ll be more of them,” he said in a dull monotone.

“We can keep you safe,” Plum started to say. “We can—”

“You don’t get it, do you?!” Anchor snapped. “There’s no point! There was never any point! No matter what anypony does, it’s never going to get better!”

Plum stepped back, looking uncertain. Phillip examined Anchor Point for a few moments, then slowly walked up and stood next to him. The street waited beneath them like a deep, black abyss.

“Mate, I know where you are now,” he said in a quiet tone. “You feel like you’re all alone, that the whole world is against you, and that there’s only one way out. But this isn’t it.”

“What other option is there?” Anchor replied softly, his hollow voice echoing with despair. His trembling had nothing to do with the cold.

“There’s always another way,” Phillip said. “Please, Anchor, let me help you.”

Anchor Point glared up at him, fresh tears faintly shining in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be one of Equestria’s greatest detectives, right? Then maybe you can tell me: why did my wife have to come down with cancer? Why did the treatments cost so much, why did my job pay so little that I had to start working with the gangs and the corrupt Guards to pay for her? Why did she die anyway, even after everything I did?! And why, when White Rose offered me a way out, did she get killed too?! Why does nopony care in this godforsaken city?!” He stamped his hoof. “We try to do the right thing, we try to play by the rules, and no matter what, you get f**ked over! It’s not fair! And don’t you dare try and tell me that it is!”

“I won’t, because it isn’t,” Phillip replied. “The world isn’t fair, and it’s especially unfair to good ponies. That’s just the way it is, but it’s all we’ve got.”

“That’s the best you can do,” Anchor said with a feeble, angry laugh. “‘That’s the way it is, it’s all we’ve got.’”

“I’m saying that because it’s true,” Phillip explained. “We all want to think that the world makes sense, that good things will happen to good ponies and bad things will only happen to bad ponies. But…” He paused, slowly turning to look up at the stars above him. “But sometimes things happen. It’s not anypony’s fault. It’s not because we did or didn’t do something, or because of fate or because the stars are lined up. It just...sometimes bad things just happen for no real reason.”

Anchor Point swallowed and stared down at the abyss beneath him. Phillip could see the hesitation in his eyes; right now, the darkness was looking more welcoming than anything.

“But we can’t give up,” Phillip continued. “We have to keep trying; that’s what life is. We get knocked down, we get back up. We can’t always make it on our own; that’s why we try to help each other, because we—”

“Please,” Anchor interrupted, his voice trembling. “Can we not talk about this right now? I’ve been crying for days...my head hurts. I just want to rest.”

“All right. Rest,” Phillip nodded. “We’ll both be right here when you’re ready to talk.”

Anchor Point slowly laid down upon the rooftop, lowering his head to the cold stone with a sigh. Phillip sat down next to him. Plum Dessert sat at his other side. The trio waited in silence, the hours slowly passing by. The sun began to rise, the air warmed around them, and the city beneath them slowly woke up; ponies began to exit out onto the streets and sidewalks far beneath them, their noises filtering up to their ears.

And still they waited.

Flash stared out the window of the Temple, slowly turning the gray trilby over and over in his hooves. The sun was illuminating the streets of the city outside, but none of the faces that he desperately searched were Phillip’s.

“He’ll come back, Flash,” Twilight reassured him, giving him a gentle hug from behind. Flash could only nod in reply. Spike lay on the bed beside him, still sketching on the sheet of cardboard with the charcoal from the street.

There was a knocking at their door. “Everypony, would you like to come down to the service?”

“We’ll be right down, Pastor,” Flash replied, doing his best to tame his unruly bedmane somewhat.

“Here, let me help,” Twilight said, igniting her horn and using her magic to smoothen out the blue locks. Flash felt a warmth spread to his ears at the sensation of her soft, magical touch gently tickling his scalp.

“Thanks, Twilight,” he said, turning and giving her a gentle nuzzle.

“You’re welcome,” Twilight answered, nuzzling him back and kissing him on the nose. He returned the kiss, briefly losing himself in the faint smell of lavender in her mane and the taste of her lips.

“Ick,” Spike gagged, sticking his finger in his mouth. Twilight and Flash both chuckled softly as they got up off the bed and started downstairs, entering the sanctuary.

A muted chattering reached their ears, the sound muffled as though the air was thickened by concern. The pews were only about half full, with many of the attending ponies speaking quietly amongst themselves or sitting off on their own, looking uncertain if they should be there. Flash spotted Canvas Glow sitting in the front row, her head bowed and her lip quivering. An older pale blue unicorn with a white mane sat next to her; Flash deduced that this was her mother.

“Should we go talk to her?” he whispered to Twilight.

“I don’t know—” Twilight started to say, but was interrupted when she saw Spike approaching Canvas. He climbed up onto the seat next to Canvas and spoke quietly to her. She looked up at him, then nodded quietly. Spike gently put an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. Twilight and Flash took their seats next to him.

The service began with a chiming of a bell at the head of the sanctuary, bringing the room to silence. Joyful Sound stood at the head of the room, using her magic to light the brazier.

“Welcome, everypony,” she called, her voice carrying through the sanctuary. “It is good to see a number of familiar and new faces amongst us today, and it is good to be here today.” She smiled at everypony briefly, then her face fell into more serious lines. “Unfortunately, we have all come here today with bad news. As most of you know, one of our members, Backhoe, was killed yesterday afternoon.” A soft murmur rose up from the pews, some of grief, some of surprise, some of anger.

“We mourn this loss, as we mourn all those who have lost their lives to violence in this city,” Joyful continued. “I ask you now to think of all those you have lost, all those whom you mourn, and speak their names, that we may might remember them.”

“Dad,” Canvas Glow whimpered, her head still on Spike’s shoulder.

“Mom,” Flash whispered.

“Sparks,” said a stallion in the pew behind them.

“Wheels,” an older mare in a back pew said.

“Swallowtail,” added a bearded unicorn opposite Twilight.

Dozens of voices spoke the names of their beloved dead, their voices joined in a quiet, sad melody. Joyful lowered her head, her eyes closed, then slowly lifted her head up, as if raising the spoken names in an offering to God.

“We pray in remembrance, and we pray in hope,” she said. “Hope for a change, hope for a better future. I realize that it is difficult, but we must have faith—faith in God, and faith in one another—if we are to remain strong. And we must remain strong, because justice is coming. We—”

She paused suddenly, an expression of surprise spreading across her face. Her expression was matched by everypony in the sanctuary, who turned to stare at the pony who had gotten up off his seat and was walking towards the raised dais.

Even as he walked up, Flash could feel every instinct screaming at him to stop; part of him begged for his hooves to turn around and go back to his seat, for his mouth to not speak the words that hung on his tongue. But he felt himself being pulled forward inexorably, and so he stepped up onto the dais, turning to face the crowd of ponies that watched him. Dozens of eyes faced him, their gazes like spotlights focused on his soul. Forcing his knees to stop trembling, he took in a breath and spoke.

“Hi,” he squeaked, then swallowed and cleared his throat. “Hello. Um...my name is Flash Sentry. I was born here in Fillydelphia. Some of you may know me, or you might now my mother, White Rose.”

A murmur of recognition rose from the crowd.

“I just wanted to say…” Flash swallowed, blinking. “That I miss my mother, and I’m sure that you miss the ones that you love, too. I wish, just as much as you all do, that you could go back and try to change things, but we can’t.” He glanced at Canvas Glow. She and her mother were looking at him in an expression of dull grief.

“We all came here, looking for some measure of peace and comfort in difficult times,” Flash continued. “And we can get that here, from one another, and from God, if you believe in Him. But praying together isn’t enough; sitting here in this temple has benefits, yes, but it’s not going to change anything out on the street.” He shook his head, recollecting himself. “If anything’s going to change, we have to do it ourselves. Which is why…” He paused, taking another breath. “Which is why I propose reopening the food shelf.”

Another murmur arose from the crowd, many of the voices in tones of disbelief. Joyful stepped up next to Flash.

“Flash, dear, I admire your bravery, but that may not be feasible,” she whispered in his ear. “We don’t have the funds—”

“What is the line that’s above the door out there?” Flash continued. “‘Service is our law.’ ‘Our covenant is to help one another.’ There’s more than we can do to help this city than pray!” He looked around at the congregation, and in each pony’s eyes, he saw the same glimmering hope. “We say justice is coming, but when? We seem to think that time will inevitably cure everything, but time is neutral; it can either be used for good or bad, to change a situation or prolong it. Nothing happens because it was inevitable; it happens because ponies stood up and did something. And the time to do something is now!”

“Yeah!” Spike shouted, pumping his fist into the air. His cry was followed by a round of applause from Twilight, then from Canvas Glow and her mother, and before long, the entire sanctuary was filled with applause and cheers. A relieved smile crossed Flash’s face and he let out a long sigh, wiping sweat from his brow.

Joyful Sound looked around at the ensemble, then smiled and nodded at Flash. “There’s been a change in program. The opening hymn will be The Fire of Commitment, number 139 in your hymnals.” She placed herself at the piano, cuing up the beginning chords of the song as the congregation rose to their hooves. Moments later, the entire temple rang with dozens of voices in melody.

Up on the rooftop of the apartment, Plum Dessert, Anchor Point and Phillip Finder still stood on the edge, overlooking the ponies on the street far beneath them, listening to the music of city life.

“Lot of ponies down there,” Plum Dessert said, for no other reason than to try to break the silence between the three of them. “They look so small from up here.”

“Yeah,” Phillip agreed, leaning forward a little to examine them more closely.

Anchor Point did not answer, staring down at the concrete waiting for him below. After a few moments, he glanced up at Phillip. “Can I ask you something?” he asked. Phillip nodded.

“You’ve been doing what you do for a very long time; almost as long as I’ve been alive,” Anchor said. “What keeps you going? What do you believe in?”

Phillip did not answer; instead, he leaned down even further, staring intently at the ponies passing below. Slowly, his eyes widened as an expression of epiphany spread across his face.

“Did you hear what I said?” Anchor asked.

“I did,” Phillip replied. “And I think I just remembered what I believe in. Look down there,” he pointed at a young mare passing below. “You see that bag that mare’s carrying? That’s a toy store bag; it’s a gift for her child. She’s been saving up for that; I can tell because of how long and unkempt her hair and tail have grown. And you see those two stallions sitting at that cafe there? One of them just checked a box in his pocket. He’s going to ask his stallionfriend to marry him.

“They do look small and insignificant from up here, but they’re not,” Phillip continued, his eyes slowly panning across the ponies below. “They never could be. It’s so easy sometimes to just get caught up in ourselves that we...we forget to look around and remember that we’re alive, and just how special that is...a miracle that’s become so commonplace that we take it for granted.

“But White Rose knew,” he added, turning to Anchor Point. “She knew how special and important life is, and she was willing to fight for it, fight for the good in her life and in other ponies lives. And that’s what I believe in, and that’s what my friends believe in.”

A single tear slowly traveled down Anchor Point’s face, and he looked up at Phillip.

“So, here’s what I propose,” Phillip said, looking directly at him. “If you think that there’s nothing left—that your life is pointless, that you’ll never be happy again—then jump. I won’t try to stop you.

“But if you think that there’s a chance, no matter how small, that you might be happy again, or that you might make someone else happy...then take my hoof,” he said, extending his limb towards the other stallion, the one that trembled like a leaf, more tears falling down his face.

Anchor Point slowly turned from the street to Phillip and back again, his breath heaving in his chest. Phillip stood where he was, still holding out his foreleg.

“Anchor, please,” Plum Dessert whispered, his own eyes shining with tears.

Anchor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but was unable to still the trembling in his body. And he stepped forward.

His hoof grasped Phillip’s and with a greater strength than just his own, Phillip pulled him close, away from the edge, and into his embrace. “It’s all right,” he reassured him. “It’s all right. You’ll be okay.”

“Okay...okay...okay…” Anchor Point whimpered, trembling in his embrace. Plum Dessert hurried over and hugged his brother as well, sobbing, the relief clear in his tear-blurred eyes. The sun smiled down at them, holding them all in its warmth like another pair of arms holding them all, reminding them that they were alive.

Author's Notes:

When did this story become a philosophy seminar?

This is easily the longest chapter I've ever written, and a lot of stuff happens in it. A lot of very, very good stuff, because it's about time I gave you all some positivity after drenching you in cynicism and despair.

But we've still got a ways to go before we earn our happy ending!