The fire, which was almost all embers, had a warm orange glow that pushed back the darkness. Sitting beside the fire, Tarnished Teapot contemplated his life, wondering if he was the victim of yet another cruel joke, his usual genial nature seemed absent.

Beside him, watching him with her one open eye, Trixie Lulamoon drank a steaming cup of poison joke tea. She showed no signs of exposure, but drank the delightful tea as a precaution. She looked as excited and curious as Tarnish did glum.

Almost unmoving and statuesque, Maud Pie also sat beside the fire, staring at the peculiar shield. The shield bothered her, and she had stated so upon their return to their camp. She could not identify the metal of which it was made. Maud, an expert in all manner of stone, crystals, and metals, was unable to determine what the shield was made of. Not knowing was driving her to distraction.

The blue orb pulsed and emitted a soft, rather soothing blue light when it was near Tarnish, but went dark when it was more than a few feet away. It sat beside him now, resting on the ground beside the fire, an eerie blue light swirling within.

“Trixie would know… why must you look so depressed… clearly, you were meant for greater things. You have power that Trixie envies.”

Turning his head, Tarnish stared at the blue mare for a while, blinking only when his eyes demanded moisture, unsure of how to respond. The firelight flickered in his eyes as shadows danced along his rich, dark chocolate brown pelt.

“He’s upset because he thinks yet another joke has been played upon him,” Maud said in a voice devoid of any feeling or emotion. “Right now, he is probably thinking that he should have been an alicorn and that the poison joke has played the cruelest joke of all—making him a unicorn.”

Astonishment made Tarnish blink his eyes in a rapid, confused manner. He turned to look at his wife, his mouth falling open, and he said, “How did you—I mean—sometimes I wonder about you, Maud.”

“It seemed obvious.” Maud rapped on the strange metal shield with her hoof. “I fell in love with a unicorn. You are not a mistake. And if you try to even suggest otherwise, expect the silent treatment for a good long time.”

“Marriage troubles.” Trixie let out a snort. “Trixie is never getting married, nor will she fall in love. Having bratty foals is not high on Trixie’s list of priorities either. Trixie has better things to do with her life than look after snotty brats.” A weak, caustic laugh made her shake and her eye had a somewhat mean, but merry looking twinkle to it.

Snorting, Tarnish tried to shake off his funk. He thought about what Maud had said, and then, much to his own surprise, he thought about what Trixie had said. He scowled and shook his head. Trixie needed to get her priorities straightened out, and so did he. There was a long, puzzling moment where he asked himself why he was suddenly so concerned about power. It was like a sickness that had crept up on him, like a cold, or the flu, and he found that he did not like this part of himself.

As for being an alicorn, perhaps it was just coincidence or a mistake. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be the one who found the strange statue. Perhaps an alicorn with the powers of poison joke was still forthcoming, a champion of nature, but it seemed unlikely.

The corners of his mouth tightened and turned downwards as he picked up the glowing blue orb. Touching it with his magic made his horn tingle and he could feel static coursing through his pelt. He held it up in front of his face and peered into it. He could see blue mist and light swirling within it. Eyes narrowing, he peered inwards, trying to see something, anything, not knowing how the orb worked.

“The orb is very powerful,” Trixie said to Tarnish.

“Can you tell me more about it?” he asked. His scowl vanished and Tarnish eyed Trixie. “Fair is fair. I saved you. If you could tell me anything, anything at all, it would be appreciated.”

“Trixie might be able to discern something,” she replied as she reached out her own magic and took the orb. The blue glow reflected in the purple iris of her eye, turning it indigo. “Let your magic intermingle with mine.”

Tarnish’s magic, a bright, vivid blue, combined with Trixie’s pale pink aura, and filled the area with a glittering purple light. The orb floated between them and the blue glow intensified. A low thrum filled the night and the embers in the fire blazed brighter.

An ear twitching crackle filled the air and Maud’s focused stare fell upon the orb. The thrum intensified—it rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern—and a strange blue glow formed around Tarnish. The glow was strongest and brightest around his cutie mark.

“—Grogar continues his advance—the source of magic has been poisoned by his foul sorcery—we have been fools—without the poison joke, the magic went bad—we have left ourselves vulnerable—”

The voice was a deep, powerful baritone.

“—I have worked out a means of time travel—yes, such a thing is possible—I, Maledico Iocus, have discovered the means to reincarnate—perhaps civilisation can be rebuilt after this coming catastrophe, or perhaps the coming devastation can still be stopped—”

The orb crackled and blue sparks flew from the smooth, flawless glass surface. A projected image appeared over the orb. A centaur could be seen, a powerful looking male with bright blue skin and a black pelt. He had broad moose antlers sprouting from his head.

“ —I will send my spirit forwards and perhaps this world can still be saved—”

Shaking her head, Trixie said, “The world didn’t end.”

The projected image vanished, there was a fizzle, the magic around the orb died. Tarnish held it in his magic, and a confused, worried expression was on his face. He trembled, his eyelids fluttered like panicked butterflies, and he drew in a deep breath.

“Grogar was defeated. Civilisation fell, but he was defeated. And the world went on.”

“The world tends to do that,” Maud said in response to Trixie. “And something tells me that long after we’re gone, the world will continue. Even if everything we know was destroyed right now, so long as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna survived, our civilisation could be rebuilt. Life will go on and new civilisations will arise.”

“Maybe.” Trixie took a sip of tea then eased her body down into a laying position.

“It’s proof.” Tarnish appeared shaken. “It’s part of the proof I need.”

Turning her head, Maud replied, “It is proof from a bygone era, a time now lost to history. Many would challenge that proof and question its validity.” She shook her head. “But it is a start. Perhaps this mystery will continue to unfold itself if we are patient.”

Her one open eye was now half closed and drooping. Trixie looked sleepy and after another sip of tea, she yawned, then smacked her lips. Her mouth was still swollen and her lips were still puffy, but it was clear that she was on the mend.

“How come there are no more centaurs?” Tarnish asked. “Other than Tirek I mean… where did they go? What happened? Where are all the alicorns? It seems there used to be a big wonderful world a long time ago and then everything was ruined. What happened to all of the civilisations that came before us? Where are the old cities? Are they all gone? Were they all so destroyed that nothing was left of them? I have so many questions.”

“There are so few answers,” Maud replied in a monotonous drone. “It’s like whatever this shield is made from… the answer is lost to time. The princesses might know, or they might not. I’m not even sure what the glass-like material on the front of it is.” She focused on her husband. “You should keep this. I have a feeling that you will be able to utilise it for… whatever it is meant to be for.”

Extending his will, Tarnish lifted the shield and felt the same tingle that he felt when he touched the orb. At the touch of his magic, the shield took on a faint blue glow. For being rather large, it felt light in his magic, impossibly so, and there was no trace of rust anywhere on the object. It was perfect, flawless, and he had no idea how old it was. How many battles had it seen? What history had it witnessed? What was it for and what was its purpose?

Why did it respond to him?

A shield might be useful and it would be a nice addition to his sword. If there was a scuffle or an all out fight, the shield would be great for protection. He had trouble making magic shields, but a physical object that he could hold up in front of him to block incoming blows would be perfect.

He thought about the skirmish with the diamond dogs to rescue Trixie. A shield might have been useful there. Not just as a defensive measure, but for bashing his enemies away. As he sat in quiet contemplation, a log in the fire crackled and popped.

There was a soft clink as Trixie’s teacup landed on the flat stone beside the fire. Her head was laying on the blanket, her eye was closed, and her barrel rose and fell as her horn went dim, the light fading as she drifted into a deeper sleep.

A soft sigh escaped Tarnish as he looked over at Trixie’s sleeping form. She was annoying, she was a bit mean, but he pitied her. Perhaps if life was kinder to her, she would be a nicer pony. He thought back to when life was being unkind to him and how he was.

“How do we help her?” Tarnish asked.

To which Maud replied, “I’m not sure that we can.”

“But she needs help. Just like I needed help.”

“She has to want the help first.” Maud shook her head. “Put Flamingo on watch and then come to bed with me. I’m tired and I think you need some happy husband hug time.”

The chirping of birds jolted Tarnish from his sleep. He had no memory of falling asleep—his last memory was of laying beside Maud and reading by horn light. He lifted his head, blinked his eyes, and looked around. His book on zebra hoodoo lay in the bed, near the wall. There was no sign of Maud. He yawned, stretched his legs straight, his whole body tensed, and he let out a half awake whine.

He slipped out of the bed, gave himself a shake, and then stepped through the door. Maud was sitting by the fire, making oatmeal. Maud tended to make oatmeal if left to her own devices, and it was almost always plain, though sometimes she put milk and butter into it. A little bit of dairy kept the pelt sleek and shiny, or so the health posters said.

Something seemed off, but Tarnish wasn’t awake enough to figure out what it was. He looked around, his vision a bit blurry but clearing, and then walked over to sit down beside the fire. He began to fix tea, knowing that he would need some.

“She’s gone,” Maud said in a low voice. “And she took a blanket with her.”

“Huh?” Tarnish looked around and realised what was missing. He felt sad, a bit worried, and just a teeny, tiny bit angry. Trixie needed help—she was still messed up—and for reasons unknown she had snuck off in the night. “Where did she go?”

Maud shrugged.

“Should we go look for her?” Tarnish asked.

Maud did not reply, not right away, but after gazing at her husband for what felt like several minutes, she said in a low, soft, flat voice, “There’s no point in going after her. She’s trying to run away from herself. She ran away from the rock farm too when we tried to help her.”

“But she’s unwell.” Tarnish filled up the kettle with water and set it on the fire so it could boil. “What was she thinking, running off like that?”

“I have no idea.” Maud stirred the oatmeal with a large wooden spoon held in her fetlock. “She took nothing else but the blanket. I have a nagging suspicion that she is off to visit the one friend she has.”

“Who?” Tarnish asked.

“Twilight,” Maud replied.

“Twilight isn’t her only friend.” Tarnish held his head high. “She has us. If we run across her again, we’ll have to do whatever we can to help her. One really good pony helped me out and helped me get my life in order. Surely with the two of us we can do something to help her out.”

“Tarnish, the difference is, you wanted to do good—”

“And maybe she does too… and just doesn’t know how. We have to try, Maud.”

Author's Notes:

So many distractions today. I'm sorry.