Secrets of the Mane Six

by Starscribe

First published 31st of October, 2017

Everypony has their secrets. Twilight never imagined those her own best friends might be hiding from her, until one of her new duties as a princess brought her stumbling headlong into a side of Equestria she never even knew existed.

Twilight Sparkle accomplished something incredible, something not even the great Starswirl could manage. But ascension into the ranks of Equestria's princesses is not without its difficulties. Before she can take her place as princess of Friendship, Twilight must travel to the underworld and make a ceremonial offering to Death in exchange for her immortality. Twilight is more than a little surprised to discover the identity of the pony under the hood.

After years living in Ponyville and getting to know her friends, Twilight always assumed they were exactly what they seemed: a group of friendly and ambitious ponies. But as it turns out, the sort of pony who saves Equestria and decodes the ancient mysteries of Starswirl is likely to attract ponies a tad more interesting.

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Updates on the 3rd or 4th Friday of every month, then daily until that section is complete.

Editing by Two Bit and Sparktail. Cover by Zutcha.

Chapter 1.1: The Call

“I’m sorry, Princess!” Twilight felt the burning in her lungs indicative of a long flight, and had to concentrate to keep her wings from shaking.

The throne room was nearly empty, except of course for the immortal rulers of Equestria Twilight had come to see. Celestia and Luna weren’t resting on their thrones, as they often did when court was in session. Instead they lingered near one of the large windows, conversing in lower voices. Both seemed to hear the door open, though, because they turned in unison to face it, staring at Twilight as she approached.

“Excellent!” Luna exclaimed, loud enough for Twilight to hear even at the entrance. “We had worried you would not arrive in time!”

Twilight galloped to meet them, and as a result she was even more sweaty by the time she skidded to a halt on the polished stone. At least she didn’t crash. “W-what… In time for what?” she asked, panting.

Celestia rested one wing on her shoulder, in the parental sort of way Twilight was accustomed. “You have the time to breathe, Twilight. We can wait that long.”

Despite being the proud new owner of a set of wings of her own, Twilight could still appreciate just how regal the princess appeared. This close to sundown, it seemed the princess's mane was darkening as well, gaining a few oranges and reds to reflect the color of the sky.

Twilight remained silent as long as it took her to recover her breath, before looking up and meeting the princess’s gaze. “I got your letter, came as soon as I could,” she said. “What’s the emergency?”

“You are,” Luna said matter-of-factly, pacing around to sit beside her sister. “Well, mortality is.”

“Huh?”

“Luna and I wanted to be certain of the spell’s results after we put you on this path. Starswirl’s method…” She shook her head. “Not even the ancient wizard himself could cast it. We needed to wait long enough to guarantee the spell’s effects would be permanent.”

“Oh.” Twilight nodded, expression going serious. “I understand. You’re going to… teach me alicorn magic now?” An involuntary grin spread across her face. “I won’t let you down, Princess! I’m sure—”

Celestia shook her head, turning to walk away. “I’m sorry Twilight, but that isn’t what this is about. We do have an urgent mission for you, though. Your own life depends on it, and maybe all of Equestria with you.”

“Alicorns are always created for a reason,” Luna said. “No matter the method, no matter the place. Fate always spins its web when Equestria’s needs are dire. But fate is a capricious patron—when she offers a gift there is always a price.”

Celestia turned towards the entrance, where a pair of armored solar guards waited with bored expressions. “Wait outside!” she ordered, voice suddenly imperious. “Do not allow us to be disturbed!”

The guards jerked to attention, startled by the interruption. Both saluted, and they exited the door in a hurried rush, pulling it closed behind them. Only when they were gone did the conversation continue.

Luna advanced on Twilight, the stars in her mane glowing with a sudden, terrible radiance. “What we are about to share with you is one of the greatest secrets in all Equestria. You must swear to absolute secrecy. Your family may never know—your friends may never know—not even your mate, should you ever take one. This knowledge goes with you to the grave.”

Twilight gulped, glancing sidelong at Celestia.

Her mentor nodded. “Luna is not exaggerating, I’m afraid. Equestria’s safety depends on the security of this information.”

“I promise never to divulge whatever you’re about to tell me,” Twilight said, her voice sincere. It wasn’t a promise she had any difficulty making, really. Why should she? Princess Celestia had never, ever led her astray.

“Very well.” Celestia took a deep breath. “Alicorns do not live very long, Twilight. The transformation process effectively concentrates the magical power of a pony, giving them access to the powers of all the tribes. But when a short time passes… one year and one day, to be precise, the pony will die.”

Twilight felt her blood run cold, eyes widening. “W-what?” she stammered, her voice cracking. “B-but… everypony knows alicorns are… they’re…”

“The myth you speak of is a useful one indeed, Twilight Sparkle. Not everypony who rises to change as you have would think of the ponies beneath them.” She looked away suddenly, voice filled with guilt. “It is not uncommon for those with power to abuse it, regardless of the consequences.” Luna trailed off, staring into the stained glass window in front of them.

Twilight followed her gaze to the depiction of the destruction of Nightmare Moon, where Twilight’s own form was reflected in the glass.

Celestia leaned over to embrace her sister, though she didn’t remain close long, returning her attention to Twilight. “This interval has always served to protect Equestria. In one year, a pony can do only so much harm. But you are no danger to Equestria, just as Cadance isn’t.”

“Which is why we called you here so urgently, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said. “There is a… solution to this difficulty, one Celestia and I discovered many years ago. It is the true secret to the Immortality of the alicorns, one you must either master or perish.”

“Tell me,” Twilight said, her voice weak. “Whatever I have to do… I-I’m not ready to die…”

“No,” Celestia touched her shoulder with one wing, as she’d done so many times before. “And I don’t want you to, Twilight.”

But this time Twilight pulled away, angry and upset. How could Celestia have kept such important information from her for so long? Shouldn’t she have warned her this would happen?

“Your mission, Twilight Sparkle, begins at Ponyville’s graveyard,” Luna said. “There you will meet with the Pale Mare herself, the Grey. Go with her into the underworld, to the well of souls. There you will impune Death for a reprieve from your fate. You will need to offer something, an object of some kind to which your fate will be inexorably tied.” She turned, glancing out the window on the other side of the throne room to where the white glow of the moon was visible through the glass, rising over the horizon. “No doubt your intellect will enable you to guess what Celestia and I chose. I urge you to choose something similarly enduring, for the meaningful existence of your choice will determine the length of your future.”

“That’s all you have to do,” Celestia finished. “You can return to the world you know and never have to think about what you did again. If Princess Cadance was able to make the trip, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. And… no, before you ask, you can’t bring you friends. Without the power of an alicorn, you would not survive.”

Twilight had remained still as they explained her mission, listening intently to her task. The more she heard, the more she began to suspect that every bit of this encounter had been staged. Celestia’s pranks were rarely so mean-spirited, but maybe…

It was easier to believe that she was being pranked than to think she might only have a year to live. “This is… some kind of joke, right?” she asked, her voice tentative. “It’s a little soon for Nightmare Night, but…”

“Nothing we have discussed is in the least bit exaggerated, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said, her voice grave. As grave as it had ever been when she visited the little fillies and colts during Nightmare Night. “Your task is best completed as quickly as possible—tonight would be best. It is far better to press through difficulty than be weighed down by indecision.”

“Go to the graveyard as quickly as you can, Twilight,” Celestia added. “Use one of those new long-range teleportation spells I’ve seen you playing with, it will be faster than flying. Meet the Pale Mare, and do as she says. You must not disobey her, no matter how much you might want to. Do you understand?”

Twilight nodded, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. “I think I do, Princess. I understand perfectly.”

“Good.” Luna’s tone hadn’t changed. “Then we will wait in eagerness to greet you upon your return trip. News of your ascension is already spreading far and wide in Equestria—the sooner we perform your coronation, the happier Equestria’s citizenry will be.”

“I won’t disappoint you.” Twilight kept back a smile as she embraced her teacher one more time, before turning to gallop away down the throne room, and teleport past the doors. The guards snapped to attention as she passed, but Twilight didn’t even spare them a second glance.

Princess Celestia had been so known for minor pranks that some of the castle servants called her “Trollestia” when she wasn’t near enough to hear. From moving entire castle wings while ponies slept to wearing absurd costumes to court and tricking the elite into imitating her, Celestia was a master at her craft. Yet this one… this had almost fooled her.

Only the bit about Ponyville warned Twilight that she was obviously dealing with a prank. If the Pale Mare, agent of Death, had ever existed at all, Twilight certainly wouldn’t find her waiting around a graveyard in the middle of the night doing nothing. Let alone the graveyard of a town so insignificant its only claims to fame were zap apple jam and the fact a new princess-to-be had come from there.

Twilight would have to think of a particularly clever way to get back at Celestia for this one, when it was all said and done. Maybe she could ask Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie for help. But not yet. For the moment, Twilight had to see this through.

Ponyville’s cemetery was on the outskirts of town, where ponies rarely visited. Equestria was a safe place, and Ponyville about as safe a community as ponies could choose for their home. Compared to other Equestrian cities It was quite a new settlement, so didn’t need much in the way of corpse real estate.

Twilight shivered as she reached the rusty iron gate and found it already open. I don’t know what I’m worried about. It’s just a joke. Twilight squared her shoulders, settling the saddlebags on her back, then strode inside. As she stepped over the threshold, the moon chose that moment to come out from behind a thick bank of clouds.

You don’t have to be so obvious, Luna. I realize you’re pulling my tail. You don’t need to show it off. Twilight pulled the gate closed behind her with her magic. It rattled and squeaked in protest as she pulled, shedding bits and pieces of rust as it did.

Mist seemed to be pouring over the space. It washed down from the nearby hill, over and around the graves, then through the metal bars of the fence and onward towards Ponyville.

You probably made sure this was scheduled, too. Twilight swallowed her annoyance, making her way along the cobblestone path. No doubt somepony was hiding here, commissioned by the princess to lurk. I hope Celestia didn’t make me a princess just so she could have somepony to prank for as long as she wanted.

The further she walked, the more Twilight realized she wasn’t alone in the graveyard. Most of the markers were about as high as her knees, so they didn’t obscure much. But a few monuments were larger, obelisks built to honor a dead Rich stallion, or somepony else from forgotten noble lines.

Yet that wasn’t where she saw the figure. Near the back of the graveyard, by a tree she recognized for a Haralred, were a pair of markers set apart from most of the others. A pony rested on her haunches beside them, gazing down into the mist. Twilight couldn’t judge the pony’s identity, couldn’t tell what she might be thinking, not with the fog so thick tonight.

So what will it be Celestia? A vampire to suck me dry? A meat-eating griffon from the ancient past? A dragon? Twilight slowed her pace as she approached, stopping well out of “striking” range for the pony. Twilight knew what to expect, so she wasn’t going to be caught off guard. “Good evening!” she called, keeping her voice low out of respect for their location.

“Twi?” The familiar drawl cut through the fog, and the pony looked up. Even through the gloom Twilight could make out her friend’s familiar hat quite clearly, casting a wide shadow onto herself and the ground all around her. “What the hay are you doin’ out here in the middle of the night?”

Twilight’s fears melted in a second, and she hurried towards her friend. Whatever prank Celestia had planned for the night, Applejack obviously wasn’t part of it. The farmpony would’ve been shaking in her hooves with guilt and regret, even if she were doing the princess’s bidding.

As she got closer, the scene in front of Applejack came into view. There stood a pair of markers, each bearing a familiar name. Fresh bouquets of wildflowers from Sweet Apple Acres rested in rusting metal brackets. There was a bundle of dark cloth beside her friend, presumably what she’d used to carry the flowers.

Twilight stopped just beside her friend, sitting down in such a way as to grant herself full vision of the graveyard around her. She would not be snuck up on here. “Oh, you wouldn’t…” She lowered her voice even more. “I’m sorry to bother you here, Applejack. I know you… don’t really like to talk about…”

“About mah parents?” Applejack asked, her voice pained. “Y-yeah. Guess I don’t get around to that subject.” She stared down at the graves. “Lotsa’ painful memories. I reckon you figure…”

Twilight nodded. “I do.” She rose to her hooves. “I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“Wait.” Applejack rose, but she didn’t follow. “Why’re ya here, Twilight? Ain’t yer family from Canterlot? You ain’t got no loved ones buried here… and no reason to be comin’ ‘round the dead late at night, neither.”

Twilight shivered involuntarily, feeling some of her hairs stand on end as Applejack said that last bit. “Well, I…” It felt disrespectful even to mention it around her friend, who’d obviously come here to reflect and spend time with the family she’d lost. But there was no point keeping it secret. “Princess Celestia sent me to meet with the Pale Mare. Apparently she’s supposed to be here on nights she doesn’t have work. I know, it sounds silly—”

In the time it took Twilight to speak, Applejack had closed the distance between them. She stared into Twilight’s face, eyes hard as garnets. “Really, Twi? Are you talkin’ straight with me? Why in tarnation would the princess have you out lookin’ for trouble?”

Twilight wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her friend this angry, not even when the Flim Flam Brothers had nearly won their farm in the cider-making contest. Not even when Canterlot had been attacked by changelings, and they’d had to fight their way through an army.

“I’m supposed to… give a gift, or something? I don’t understand it, Applejack… It didn’t make any sense to me. Travel through the underworld and give my offering at the well of souls,” she repeated, doing her best to match even Celestia’s tone. “I recognized some of the myths she was talking about, but I didn’t think any of it was serious. It… wasn’t, right?”

Applejack turned away from her. Her shoulders hunched as she made her way back to the markers, lifting the bundle of cloth from the ground. She flung it over her back with a flourish, and a thick black robe suddenly enveloped her. Orange coat and yellow mane vanished into the hooded shadows of the cloak, which covered every part of her. Not even a tail emerged from the back.

“Are ya sure this is what ya want, Twilight? I reckon you might decide better on the journey, if ya knew what was down there. Might think better’a getting yer hooves all knotted up in immortality.” She walked slowly towards her, yet as she got closer her face remained veiled, shadowed in the gloom of her cloak. “It ain’t right fer most poines, as it turns out. Death is part of life—ends give the middle parts meanin’, and all that. You sure you wanna do this?” Applejack reached down into the fog, lifting something over her shoulder and resting it on her back. A long scythe, with a glittering silver blade.

“Yes.” Twilight was no longer certain this was a prank. Celestia had always been clever, and maybe she’d have manipulated the weather so things were extra creepy. But getting her friend to be here, pretending to be here for her parents? Not a chance. “I’m sure.” She didn’t mention the other half, about the fact she faced certain death in a year’s time if she didn’t complete the journey. She had given her word, prank or not.

“Alright then.” Applejack walked right past her, back towards the graveyard proper. “Follow me, Princess. It’s a long road to the well.”

Twilight turned to walk behind her, keeping up as best she could. “Why are… Applejack, you can’t be her! You aren’t…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Death.”

“No, I ain’t,” Applejack said, no trace of hesitation or embarrassment in her tone. “But I work for ‘er. You don’t honestly think she can be everywhere all the time, do ya? Well… I suppose she could, but that ain’t how it works.”

Applejack didn’t stop walking, not until they’d crossed to the other side of the graveyard. Here the markers were overgrown, the path between them lost in untrimmed grass, and thorny brambles twisting around the fence. A particularly overgrown monument rose in front of them, large enough to hold a dozen ponies with an angelic pegasus carved from marble resting atop it. The pegasus too had been overgrown with plant life, its face totally obscured in leafy green.

“How?” Twilight couldn’t stop herself. It felt a little easier talking to her friend now that they were away from the graves of Applejack’s parents. A little easier, but not much. “How could it be you, Applejack? Wouldn’t you rather be working the farm? And why wouldn’t you…”

“Tell anypony?” Applejack glanced over her shoulder—well, Twilight assumed it was still her. Wearing the robe, Twilight couldn’t make out any of her features, even when she was only inches away. “Because ‘ah couldn’t. Most ponies are just better off not knowin’ about that sorta thing. ‘Cept now you’re a fancy princess and all… Guess I shoulda’ figured you’d be comin’ eventually.”

Applejack stepped up beside the monument, raising her voice and shouting into the night. “Skagh! Thegh! Kavagh!” The ground shook, little pebbles rattling right off the edges of the marble monument. It slid open and out of the way of its own accord. The ground swept sharply away beneath it, yet there wasn’t a casket at the bottom. Instead it revealed a set of stairs, worn and covered with lichen. “Last chance to turn back, Princess. Ah still reckon you’d be better off if ya did.”

“No.” Twilight leaned down, gazing into the void. Warm air brushed past her from the graveyard, pulling fog with it, sending it spilling down the steps into the abyss. Any final thoughts she might be the victim of a prank faded, and she realized that everything Celestia had told her was true. You really got me this time. “I’m going. Maybe on the way… maybe you could tell me how you ended up…” She gestured with one hoof, at the robe and the scythe. “It must be quite the story.”

“Yeah,” Applejack said, nodding towards the opening. “Sure, Twi. At least if I can’t get you to see sense and turn around it’ll be good to finally tell one’a my friends about… well, this. All these years not able to say nothin’ ain’t been easy.”

Twilight walked past her into the dark. Stone rubbed roughly on her hooves, dismissing the possibility that she might be looking at an illusion of some kind. A few steps in and she was already below the ground, surrounded by stone walls that rose up and covered the sky above them. Applejack followed her, turning to look up at the sky. “Wegh Khârados!” she shouted. The ground shook around them again, and a flat section of slate rumbled over, covering the stars and the moon and plunging them into total darkness.

Twilight lit her horn with a faint purple glow, just in time to see Applejack make her way past, robe still covering up her face with its magic. “T-that’s… I’ve never seen an earth pony do magic before.”

“Ain’t magic.” Applejack didn’t seem to mind the light, but she also didn’t seem to notice. At least she wasn't running down the steps to get away, but walking slowly enough that Twilight could follow in the gloom without tripping herself. “Passwords. One for in, one for out. Might wanna remember ‘em, in case you ever want to come back without me. That seems like the sort of thing a princess might do.”

“Is that safe?” Twilight asked, walking a little closer to her friend. Close enough that she could feel the wispy cloth of the cloak against her coat. The smell of mildew and rot were strong here, but not in the nauseating way of meat left out in the sun. It was, rather, a natural smell, like a poorly managed forest. It was the sound of dripping water and the rumbling of the planet’s bowels.

“Are ya kiddin’? That’d be about the most dumb as nails thing a pony could do. Not meaning any offense to yer fancy magic or bein’ an alicorn, but this isn’t where you’re meant to be, Twilight. Maybe Princess Luna knows her way around, but that don’t mean you should be wanderin’ in alone. Leave it to the professionals.”

“Then why’d you…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Why don’t you tell me how this started, Applejack? Frankly, I wasn’t even… I wouldn’t say I believed in the afterlife a few minutes ago.” And I still don’t. But she wasn’t going to say that aloud. “Maybe you could explain this. Even if I’m not supposed to document it, it would be helpful to know.”

“Sure,” Applejack said, slowing a little as she thought. “Ah guess that makes sense. Just… you listen good, alright? I don’t wanna repeat none of this.”

“I will,” Twilight said. “You have my undivided attention.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. The stairs began to level out as they walked, though there were so many Twilight had a hard time keeping track. There was no other evidence of where they were, nothing but a gradual cooling of the air around them and a constant twisting of the passage, preventing her from seeing very far ahead.

There were no tool marks here, no mortar in the stars. It was as though the entire passage had just spontaneously sprung into existence, already withered with age.

“Alright,” Applejack finally said. “It started with the fire.”

Author's Notes:

So, I've been sitting on this story for quite a long time. It's one of the first MLP-related ideas I ever had for a story, in fact. A sortof urban fantasy take on the characters we know. I felt like Halloween was just too good of an opportunity to pass up, particularly with how this story starts.

Chapter 1.2: Tableau

The path was almost featureless, like they were walking through a fog. Aside from the occasional sound of grinding stone or dripping water, Twilight could hear nothing but their own hooves. There was no way to tell how far they’d gone, or how long they’d been walking.

“Well, it was a mighty dry year,” Applejack began. “Long time ago, when I was just a filly. Guess you would’a been too, somewhere off in Canterlot. Anyway, every now and then the weather teams schedule a nice long drought—I couldn’t tell ya the reasons for it, though I’m sure it’s somethin’ to do with the wilderness needin’ specific conditions fer seeds to germinate and whatnot.

“Anyway, point is that things were real dry. We still don’t know exactly how the fire started. Could just be a bit a glass got loose in the dirt somewhere, or maybe one of the haybales just sorta started. They can do that sometimes, when it’s really dry…

“Whatever it was, a fire started. It was in the early mornin’, and nopony was up yet. First thing anypony knew, there was a fire sweepin’ up against the farmhouse door. It’d already got the barn, got the silos, and it was eatin’ up most ‘a the wheat by then…”

She trailed off, slowing as the path began to level out. The path split there in several different directions, though that wasn’t what Twilight noticed about the place. A wall of bleached skulls stared vacantly at her from the side of the passage, faint candle flames flickering from within their eyes. She made sure to walk extra far away from them as they passed, as though they might reach out and bite her.

Applejack picked a path without much thought and started off again, resuming her story. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she reached up towards the hood of her robe with one hoof. “W-well… Ma and Pa had their bedroom right up against the wall with the old silo. Fire was already… already inside by the time Big Mac woke me. I still to this day don’t know for sure why Ma and Pa never woke up… best guess it was the smoke. We were right poor then, so Big Mac and Apple Bloom and me all slept together on this little mattress on the floor. Might just be we were too short to breathe it in.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered. “I’d… I knew it was a fire. I read the obituary on file in the library. I didn’t know it’d be…”

“Y-yeah,” Applejack croaked. “But it was even worse than the paper made it out to be. Only mercy to that whole thing was that Granny was still living with ‘er sister. If she’d been there… well, I’m gettin’ ahead a myself.

“So, fire’s sweepin’ through the farmhouse. It’s already made it to the door. Smoke’s got the whole place so gummed up that we ain’t got no way out. Big Mac tried to break a window, but they were too high up to get to and we didn’t have no furniture.”

Twilight could almost picture it: two young ponies and a foal huddled together in terror as their home burned down around them. No way out, no response from their parents, no training on what to do. Only certain death.

“We were dead, see. Would’a been. By all rights, we should ‘a been. And that’s when I saw her. Mare… kinda like I look now. Black cloak, no face, real strange voice. She shows up, and the whole thing just sorta stops. ‘You’re dead,’ she told us. ‘Come with me now, so you don’t have to suffer.’ That’s… Well, that’s one of the mercies you can give a pony. Death can be…” She trailed off.

Ahead of them the walls finally fell away, and Twilight could make out something on the horizon.

She could think of no other word to describe so incredible an underground space. The path became a bridge over a vast, unimaginable emptiness. The light from Twilight’s horn faded away revealing no trace of what was below them. Only the walls, and a sheer drop off either side. A few steps in the wrong direction, and it looked like a pony could fall forever.

In front of them was… a plateau, larger than any cave she could imagine. Larger than any cave in Equestria should be, given the limits on the strength of rock. The ceiling was so high up she could only see it because it provided its own light, a constant blue radiance that washed the color from everything and made it look muted and gray. Only her body, lit by the horn on her head, preserved any of its color.

A little further ahead, past where the bridge met the vast plateau, Twilight could make out the shapes of structures, and ponies moving slowly about between them. Is that a village? They were right below Ponyville.

Applejack was still speaking, apparently oblivious to the spectacular sights all around them. Twilight had to hurry to keep up.

As she did so, speeding briefly into a trot, she could hear the echoes of her own hoofsteps coming back from far below, accompanied by new sounds. It sounded like an ocean of bones, shifting as unseen things swam beneath its depths.

“Anyway, I wasn’t havin’ it. Apple Bloom was too young to be makin’ choices like that, and you know Big Mac… well, I told ‘er no. I told her that she was right there with us, she might as well make herself useful and do a little helpin’. All she’d have to do was give us a boost, help us break a window, and that’d be that. She, uh… well, she weren’t too terribly keen on that. But I begged her, and eventually she took pity on us.”

“The mare told me that she’d been watchin’ ponies die for centuries and centuries… way too long, and she couldn’t do it anymore. See, we can’t help the ponies we come for—when it’s time fer ya to go, that’s it. Cept… there’s one exception. I could take her place—let her finally move on, and do her job until somepony else took it from me. M-might be… might be a long time, she said. Maybe I shoulda’ thought better’a the whole thing, but I didn’t.”

“You said yes,” Twilight muttered. “You… replaced the last pony of Death?”

“Well, one of ‘em,” Applejack corrected. “There’s more’an one, like I said before. Ponies are better off with somepony they trust to see ‘em off. Helps prevent…” She trailed off, looking down at her hooves as they crossed onto the plateau at last. “Well, prevents what ‘yer about to see. The lessa’ this there is, the better.”

Twilight moved closer to her friend as they passed off the bridge and into the ruins of a village. From a distance, she hadn’t recognized any of the structures here, yet now that she was up close, she started to notice a pattern. On their left was the old community library, a single-story affair that had been torn down to make room for an apartment building. Beside that, an old blacksmith’s shop she’d seen sketches of in the Ponyville Express. Apparently it’d burned down in a fire about ten years before she was born. So it was with all the structures here. Buildings left to decay existed here in their intact forms, many so ancient they looked like they could’ve been constructed during Ponyville’s founding.

The town was largely deserted, but not completely. As they made their way through the eerie streets, shadowy figures emerged from buildings, staring at them as they passed.

Up close, the ponies crossed all tribal boundaries, all ages and sexes. Their manner of dress varied tremendously, but one thing remained in common: each of them was wearing funeral garb. Long white dresses, or slim black suits stood out as the most modern, but there was also lacy, clinging gowns, complete with the iron horseshoes that had once been common for all ponies to be buried to aid in their walk along the Styx.

The ponies all around them had almost no color in the washed-out blue light, no cutie marks on their flanks, and distant expressions on their faces. They were each in their prime, though they also had a somewhat sunken cast to their bodies. At least they weren’t rotting corpses.

“P-please…” begged a nearby earth pony mare, whose funeral garments were embroidered by diamonds. They no longer shone, looking cloudy and cracked. “Please, help…”

Twilight stopped, staring at the poor mare. She’d seen this mare before, though she couldn’t remember exactly where. She couldn’t remember her name either. “How can I help?” she asked, unable to keep the desperation from her tone. It was hard to see such pain and not want to help.

“No.” Applejack jerked suddenly on Twilight’s leg, yanking her out of reach of the shambling earth pony. “There aint nothin’ you can do fer her, Twilight. Not a darn thing. And it ain’t safe to stay still.”

Twilight didn’t know what Applejack was talking about—she couldn’t see any danger, not anywhere she looked. Even the Everfree had more dangerous monsters than these pitiful-looking ponies. “We can’t just leave her!” Twilight insisted, raising her voice a little. “Somepony has to help!”

Applejack yanked on her again, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Twilight, look around you. What’s happenin’ right now?”

Twilight looked up, and realized that there were over a hundred pale figures surrounding them. They crowded so close that Twilight could no longer move without feeling them. The air had gone from chilly to icy cold with their proximity, and she realized she was shivering. “O-oh.”

“Fly,” Applejack commanded. “Right now.”

Twilight obeyed, leaping into the air and flapping her wings just as the ponies below lept together for the space she had occupied.

Twilight had only had wings for a few days, not nearly long enough to learn with any skill. She felt something brush against her, felt her limb briefly go numb with cold, until she beat more furiously against the air and rose out of reach. There were pegasus ponies among the crowd, but none of them moved to follow. They only stared up at her, eyes hollow and disappointed.

“Forward, outa’ town.” She heard Applejack’s voice, but couldn’t see the pony. Couldn’t guess at how Applejack could’ve followed her, if she were way up in the air. Yet follow she apparently had. “Fast as ya can go! I’ll meet ya there.”

Twilight flew, though to use that word might be a tad overly generous. She didn’t fly across the distance so much as she lurched up and down in the air, moving in that general direction. She was exhausted after less than two minutes of flight—nowhere near accustomed to moving muscles she hadn’t had only days before.

Fortunately for her, the ponies chasing didn’t seem to be in any terrible hurry to follow her. If they’d wanted to keep up, they surely could’ve walked as fast as she flew. But without her right in front of them, most returned to where they’d been, walking back to their empty houses or to the areas they’d been gathered, mostly alone.

Eventually Twilight “landed.” That didn’t mean she did so with any grace. Rather, she tumbled, crashing through a pile of thick dirt and landing with her flank splayed in the air over her head.

“Mighty fine landin’,” Applejack said, from a few feet away. Twilight glanced to the side with a moan to see the same robed figure standing there, weapon still slung over her shoulder. “I can see you picked up on those wings right quick.”

Twilight grunted, rolling onto her hooves and rising. She was a little bruised, but nothing serious. It was only her pride that had been injured. “Applejack, I want an answer.” She pointed back at the town. “Is that what happens to ponies when they die?”

Applejack shifted uncomfortably on her hooves. “Well, uh… sometimes.” She pointed towards the path ahead of them. It looked just like the gravel road out of Ponyville, the one that ran along the railroad and led towards Canterlot. “Can I answer on the way? It ain’t safe ta stay still up here.”

“Right.” Twilight joined Applejack at a trot down the gravel path. It was far less scenic than the one she knew from the world she knew. There were trees—skeletal, brown trees, without a single leaf between them. No grass, no bushes, no flowers, no animals.

The rolling mountains that surrounded Ponyville weren’t represented here. Not even the railroad tracks were here. Applejack didn’t seem to be in a hurry to answer, but the longer Twilight remained silent the more uncomfortable she seemed to get. “Most ponies don’t end up down here,” she eventually said. “The Underworld… well, it ain’t the way things are meant to work.”

“So it’s… a place of punishment? Like Tartarus?”

“Not exactly,” Applejack answered. “Tartarus is down here, deep as deep can be. There are a few gates to it direct from the surface though, so bad ponies and such can be tossed in. Guess you already knew that, though…”

“Y-yeah…” Twilight answered. “I made the trip once.”

Silence. They passed over a bridge, one with no river below it. Only dry dirt and a few skeletal young trees. A few farmhouses stood on either side of the path, with ghostly figures milling about, or watching the two of them pass through the fence. None seemed terribly interested in them, though. Nothing grew.

“Well, the Underworld ain’t so much a punishment as it is… a consequence. What I do… what the others workin’ fer Death do… we stop ponies from endin’ up here. But sometimes, ponies can up and do things that keep their lives so dark we don’t even notice when they’re dyin’. Not havin’ no friends, fer one. Real nasty magic, that kinda thing. If we can’t find ya, you’ll end up here.”

Twilight walked along beside her friend in silence, considering her words for a long time. Many miles passed all around them as they walked, and still the huge cavern continued.

“Is there something somepony can do for them?” Twilight asked. “Princess Celestia and Luna must know about this.”

“Yeah,” Applejack answered. “But that pony ain’t you. Princess Luna… well, I reckon you know the story about where bat ponies came from.”

“From the Lunar Rebellion,” Twilight answered, the words coming almost by rote. “They were her troops.”

“Well, not quite. Princess felt bad for all the ponies trapped down here, so she… she made a whole new school of magic. You can go ahead and talk to a bat to learn how it works, cuz’ I don’t know. Maybe cuz’ you’re an Alicorn, you could learn. Maybe not. Whatever it is, it ain’t why we’re here tonight.”

“Right.” Twilight trailed off, glancing around them. She couldn’t see any familiar landmarks anymore. For a few seconds, she’d even tricked herself into thinking she could see the sky. It was easy to let herself pretend that the rock ceiling with its even blue light was the sky. “We’ve got to get to the Well of Souls. Whatever that is.”

“Somewhere mighty dangerous, that’s where,” Applejack answered. “Well, dangerous for you. I ain’t in no danger down here, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Twilight repeated, her tone darkening a little. “Maybe you could prepare me for whatever’s coming, so I don’t get us into trouble accidentally. I could use the time while we walk to prepare my spells.”

Chapter 1.3: Boatman

As it turned out, the plateau did have an end. Twilight couldn’t have mapped it to any place in the real world above—they’d been walking far too long for that. Probably days had passed in Equestria, or at least it felt that way. Time could bend to gravity, but she’d never thought the core of the planet could bend it that much.

How many times will I have to tell myself this follows the regular physical laws before I admit it doesn’t?

A flowing river had washed away the end of the plateau. The water ran cloudy and fierce, roiling in white rapids and expelling noxious odor with every splash. The river was at least fifty feet across, maybe more. She could have flown it, but Applejack rested a hoof on one of her wings, stopping her. “No.”

“W-why?” Twilight asked, indignant. “We have to cross, don’t we?”

“Yes, but not like that. You’ll never make it if you try to fly, that just ain't how it works.”

“But… I can see the other side!” Twilight insisted. And she could. The ground was black there, broken with uneven stone. Almost as though the buildings there had been crunched down by time into small pieces. She saw no more ghosts, if that’s what the ponies down here really were.

“Don’t,” Applejack said again. “It’ll just get longer forever. When I said we don’t break the rules, I meant it in more ways than one. Often times ya just can’t, no matter how much a pony might want to. The place won’t let you.”

Twilight didn’t argue further. It sounded preposterous, obviously, but so was an underground kingdom of the dead. “So how are we…”

She noticed the boat then, an old rowboat that somehow remained moored to their side despite the current. A little length of wooden dock was all it had to keep itself from being washed away. A tall being leaned on the boat, taller than anypony Twilight had ever seen. Like Applejack, dark cloth obscured its features. Even so, she could tell there were gripping appendages of some kind, based on the way it held its rod, ready to push them through the water.

“You’re joking,” she whispered, only loud enough for her friend to hear. “Those stories were true too?”

Despite how careful she had been, the figure spoke. It was male, with a voice so ancient it sounded like a sack of gravel rubbing together. He stooped over on his rod, weighed down with unimaginable years. “Every story is true, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Even the contradictions?” She approached the boat, surprised to see Applejack falling in beside her, silent.

“Especially the contradictions,” answered the boatman, gesturing to the empty seat on his vessel. “You will be taking the next leg of your journey with me, pony princess. I trust you to be more entertaining than many of the passengers I have transported.”

“I am?” She glanced to Applejack. “Is this really how we’re doing this? That skiff doesn’t look… safe.”

“Not we,” Applejack answered. “Only the living and the dead can ride the ferry. Unfortunate, but I’m not either one. But don’t you fret none, I’ll meet ‘ya down there.”

“Yeah.” Twilight turned back to the boatman. “In the old stories, ponies paid for passage across the river.” She smiled slightly, levitating the little pouch Luna had given her out of her pocket. She removed a pair of gold coins from within, staring at the strange beings depicted on them. They weren’t ponies, that much was clear. “Will this do?”

The figure nodded, offering a limb to accept the gold. Twilight couldn’t see it through the wispy cloak, but whatever stood underneath looked withered and skeletal. She looked away from the limb, suppressing a shiver. “This must be the Nightwatcher’s doing,” he said, sounding disappointed. “You were supposed to owe me a favor for the trip. I could have used a pony on the surface.”

Twilight glanced back to her friend, or at least to where Applejack had been standing beside her on the dock. The farmpony had gone without a trace—not a breath of wind, not a teleport, nothing. Twilight shivered, stepping into the boat. Though the currents didn’t seem to move it, her own hoofsteps made it rock up and down, listing gently back and forth in the water.

“Ponies are all about being helpful, Mr.….”

“Charon,” the figure answered. He waited until Twilight was secure in her seat, then pushed off gently from the edge. They weren’t swept away instantly in the flood, swallowed by dark water, and bashed to death against unseen rocks. “A humble boatman needs no other name to one so great as you. A pony princess… how high you rose.” Despite his ancient frame, he showed no sign of weakness as he navigated the river, pushing against the bank with his rod and keeping them in constant motion.

“Not a princess yet,” Twilight corrected. “Alicorns are usually princesses, but not always. I haven’t had a coronation yet, so I’m not a princess.”

“Humility,” Charon muttered, his voice so low it was hard to hear over the sound of rushing water. “Remember me as you pass by, as you are now so once was I. As I am now so you must be. Prepare for death and follow me.”

“Even if the whole reason I’m coming here is to be immortal?” Twilight asked, speaking just loud enough for him to hear. “Or… close to it. Celestia didn’t give me much choice.”

“There is no such thing as an immortal,” said Charon. “Some beings don’t die from old age, but even they can be destroyed. The greatest kings must all eventually wither and watch their accomplishments crumble to dust. Those who once moved whole civilizations to their will are reduced to faint whispers on the wind, inaudible to all but the most attentive observer.”

They passed around the bend of the river, which seemed to be taking them down a steep slope. Wherever the river was going, they were going more quickly by the moment.

“You think the one you call Celestia is immortal?” He laughed. “All time is a matter of perspective, Twilight Sparkle. Nothing endures but time itself. Yet even that will be rendered meaningless, when there are no longer any living to experience it.”

Twilight stared over the dark water, shivering as she considered the boatman’s words. They passed many dark places—buildings rose along some banks, while on others she saw spectacular land formations, towering columns and valleys filled with houses. “What about you, Charon? You sound like somepony who’s seen a lot. Are you immortal?”

“No.” He chuckled. “I’m just old. I’ve carried many on my boat. The age of gold and harmony, of silver and discord, of bronze and war. Fair Peleus sat where you now rest in the age of heroes.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, boatman. I studied history… maybe you could help me settle something! Did you carry a pony named Star Swirl? Nopony can agree on how he died, but he must’ve. You could settle things for the history books.”

Charon laughed. The motion was violent enough that the whole boat started to rock from side to side in the current. “You’re thinking of the Athenaeum, young pony. I am not the source of knowledge or its keeper. Besides, retaining what I learn from my guests is a matter of confidence. All knowledge that has been lost can be found down here, for it is as dead as those who knew it. But I do not suggest you search. For every tantalizing secret, there are many others which should stay buried. Ask your princess of nightmares how she feels about the forbidden things she learned within the Athenaeum and see if you still desire to find it.”

Twilight opened her mouth to argue, but couldn’t form words. She couldn’t think of any way she could convince this Charon, or anything she could offer. Except… “What was that favor you wanted? I don’t owe it to you, but I might be willing to help in exchange for information. I don’t intend to return anytime soon, so the more I can accomplish with this one trip the better.”

Charon leaned back on his pole for a moment, letting their boat drift across the still water.

Twilight could no longer see anything on either bank. The diffuse blue glow that had lit the upper reaches no longer penetrated, and the faint spark of her horn went only as far as the water itself before being drowned out. Twilight knew better light spells, but somehow she doubted it would be a good idea to get the attention of the creatures that lived down here. The last time she’d tried interacting with the dead, Applejack had needed to rescue her.

“The artistic works of your civilization’s recent history have been far too banal to interest me, yet there is one pony whose creations are different. Her works are unique, and so each original destroyed in the world of the living eventually finds its way down here.”

Twilight felt recognition flood her instantly. She knew many ponies in Equestria, but only one who’s artistic creations were so grand that she was certain they would be leaving an imprint on history. “Rarity? What kind of favor would you like from her?”

“Not from her.” Charon’s navigation became a little more forceful as he pushed them along with his stick. “For her. The days of life are given to men to labor. Then cometh the night of darkness, wherein there can be no labor performed. Let’s just say between us that I keep my ear to these things. I know when a mortal’s schedule comes due. Like all those who serve, I cannot interfere, not even indirectly. I could not suggest to you, for instance, that I greatly admire an artist and I fear for her safety in her most recent endeavor. I could never tell you to take measures to change her course, lest she find herself riding my boat. I could never tell you those things, because doing so would be a great breach of professional courtesy. Yet, I think it would be a tremendous advantage for someone to say such things, in order to prevent a great tragedy from prematurely ending the career of one so talented.”

Twilight sat back in the boat, staring indignantly at its confounding boatman. They continued to drift forward through the dark, yet she could no longer see the shore. The river they had been sailing had since become an ocean, its waters churning and vast. How his pole could be doing anything to propel them, Twilight could only guess.

Yet maybe she’d judged Charon too harshly at first. As strange as he was, it seemed he was taking a personal risk to help her protect one of her friends.

Twilight nodded. “Of course nopony would do something like that. And nopony would’ve been listening.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Charon said, and she could almost hear the smile on his face, though of course she still couldn’t see any meaningful part of him through the cloth. “We have almost arrived. Perhaps I will share with you a few words of advice, as has become my habit whenever you equine creatures ride along my boat. I feel… well, a measure of pity for you. To inherit something as dangerous and broken as this. Yet your stewardship has been admirable.”

Twilight remained silent, watching him. If nothing else, the boatman sure liked the sound of his own voice. That was probably to her benefit as well. The more he spoke, the more truths about this alien place she could learn.

“Be wary of Death’s offers,” he eventually said. “It wields great power in the lives of mortals, or at least it seems that way. Mortal beings stand at the intersection of a vast, invisible expanse. The future before you can seem terrifying, because that future is unknown. But it won’t be so frightening when you get there. Don’t give in to the temptation of security, and deprive yourself of your future. Don’t make my mistake.”

Twilight remained silent a long time, soaking in Charon’s words. Ahead of them, she could see a dock, stretching out over a misty sea. A figure already waited on the dock, a pony wearing robes and carrying a long scythe. Applejack had somehow beat her here. “Thank you, Charon. I will… I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that, pony princess,” Charon said. “The years seem more precious than they are. Only with an ending can the story be complete. And in the end, that’s all any of us will be” He cleared his throat, straightening a little. “And now the story of your trip has ended. Be mindful as you exit, the Sea of Identity is not one many mortals would wish to swim. Step softly as you proceed, and know you have never been in more danger in your life.”

The boat thumped hollowly against an old dock, its surface covered with slime and many of its planks eroded. A single rusty lantern hung in the dark. Applejack was already there, standing in the light of the lantern. She did say she would meet me here.

Twilight rose and exited the boat, moving slowly enough that it didn’t rock or tilt too badly. The old planks creaked beneath her hooves, but they held. Twilight turned to wave to the boatman, but found Charon and his boat had already gone. I didn’t imagine them. She couldn’t start questioning her eyes now. If she did that, how much of this trip might she rationalize away.

I’m seeing everything. It’s all real. There’s no hiding from the truth. And there wasn’t. With her new Alicorn senses, she would keep these memories with her until the day she died. Though what sense I’ll make of them, who knows. Everypony here seems to think Luna comes more often, maybe she can explain some of this.

Applejack nudged Twilight in the shoulder, startling her out of her reverie. She spoke then, which served to confirm in Twilight’s mind that she was, in fact, speaking to her friend. “You about ready, sugarcube? We’re almost there.”

“Yes,” Twilight said, sounding far more confident than she felt. “I’m about ready. As ready as… as I’ll ever be.”

Applejack turned, facing away from the docks. “Come on then, Princess. The well is just on up ahead.”

Twilight had no choice but to follow.

Chapter 1.4: Death

She could see the well even from far off, surrounded by a massive ring of dark stone monoliths. Each block formed an ancient monument, taller and larger than some of Ponyville’s buildings. Each one looked like it had seen the weight of countless passing years.

It reminded her a little of a similar monument she had read about, taken from Equestria’s distant history. Her family had taken her to visit Ponehenge when she was just a filly, and she had marveled at the scale. Yet now, she thought she knew what that structure had been based on. She wouldn’t be so impressed if she ever returned.

Another thing surprised her—the feel of grass under her hooves, the smell of flowers and the touch of moss growing on the edge of monuments. She even imagined a few distant echoes of birdsong, and the not-too-distant gurgling of a stream.

You are in more danger here than you have ever been in before, the boatman had said. But after being attacked by the shades of lost ponies near the surface, this seemed quite friendly.

“I’m not sure why ponies made this out like it was such a big deal,” Twilight whispered to Applejack, keeping her voice low just in case. “I thought we were coming to see some terrible monster, but it looks like whoever lives here is quite friendly.”

They passed one of the monuments, several times thicker than Twilight’s body was long. It looked like something had been written there, but whatever it had said was eroded almost to nothing.

“Hush up, Twi,” Applejack hissed. “She’ll hear you.”

“Why wouldn’t Death be friendly?” asked a voice. Twilight had expected billowing power, perhaps something like the Royal Canterlot Voice she had heard from Luna more than once. Instead, she heard only a whisper, and couldn’t even point to its direction. She couldn’t guess at an age, or even a sex.

Ponies who spoke of Death at all typically referred to her as female, just as the rulers of their world they knew in life were female. “Your work is done, Applejack. The visitor has reached me in safety. Either I will return her to the surface, or I won’t. You cannot shape that decision now.”

“As you say.” Applejack lowered her head towards the center of the circle, as ponies sometimes bowed to the princesses.

Twilight followed her gaze, but she could see nothing there but a shape of low rocks, partially overgrown by moss and grass. No pony, for sure.

“Well, good luck and all, Twilight. I hope fer yer sake you’ve thought long and hard about what you’ll do in there. This ain’t the kinda place where we can come back later and change our minds.” She rose, gave Twilight a brief hug, and was already turning away.

“Wait!” Twilight called, conscious all the time that whoever had spoken was probably still here, still listening. “You’re leaving me down here? I don’t know the way back!” It wasn’t as though Twilight had been ignoring what she saw on their way. But she didn’t think the boatman ever took ponies the other way.

“Do not worry over how you will return to the surface when you do not know that you ever will,” whispered the voice, shifting and jumping strangely with each word. It was as though the identity of the speaker was never the same from moment to moment. “Come forward, Twilight Sparkle. I am eager to hear your plea.”

Twilight glanced behind her again, to wave goodbye to her friend one last time. But Applejack was no longer there. She wasn’t walking away down the path, didn’t seem to be crouching in the shadow of the massive stone blocks. Twilight was alone.

It’s either this or die, she thought. Much sooner than I was ready for. She had not been an Alicorn for very long, not even long enough to master flight. Applejack’s advice that she accept what little life was left to her and welcome death when she came had fallen on deaf ears.

“Where are you?” Twilight asked, her voice becoming slow and respectful. As she had spoken to Celestia for most of her life. She walked slowly too, across the mossy path and towards the object at the center of the circle of stones. This must be it, the so-called “Well of Souls” she had come to find.

Considering the monument all around it, she pictured something similarly grand. Perhaps a shaft so wide that a fully-grown dragon could dive inside without splashing someone standing at the surface. No doubt there would be a massive throne of skulls or something else horrifying beside it, where Death would sit and judge the mortals who came to her.

“Where?” repeated the speaker. Twilight held still this time, listening very closely. Trying to discern a direction. It sounded very close—as though the pony were right behind her. She snapped her head back, but there was nopony there. Now it sounded like the speaker was in front of her. “Where is Gravity? Where is Fear?”

She saw no throne, no skulls, and nothing like the well she had imagined. This one was about three feet across, made from black stones of varying shade. The well itself was so worn down that it had almost been completely swallowed by the life within the circle. Bright red flowers grew nearby, with a few of the birds she had heard perched on their stems.

Twilight gulped. “Gravity is… everywhere. It manifests wherever there are objects with mass.”

The smell drifted slowly towards her. Like an unburied corpse, left out in the sun for days. She choked back a gag, backing away from the flowers. She couldn’t see down the well from this far away, though, and something in her needed to. Just what did a soul look like, anyway?

“Indeed,” the voice answered. This time it seemed as though it were coming from somewhere deep in the well, echoing up a long shaft and stretching as it came. “As is the case with Death. Though it is the living that causes Death to manifest. Only by limiting your view to a single instant does it seem to you I am not with you. Yet I am already there, waiting for you. That day has already come, and it will, and it is here now.”

Twilight shivered. There was much Death implied, and much she wanted to ask. But those things were not why she had come tonight. They could wait for another adventure. “I’m here…” She whimpered, coughed, cleared her throat. Then she stepped forward, standing a little straighter. “I’m here to petition you, Death.”

The voice sounded almost amused. “Always with formality, constructed politeness from you ponies. You think I am your enemy, yet you act as though I am a king. I wonder, have you come to beg for what the Nightwatcher demanded? Did she send you hoping my response would be different to you than it was to her?”

Death sounded suddenly as though it were behind her again. “I will not give the end of pain she wanted for Equestria. If that is your desire, take it. Live as you desire until the last light has gone from the last star. I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“No.” Twilight wasn’t sure it was wise to contradict Death—but then, she wasn’t sure exactly how she was supposed to act around it. At least when she had fought Discord there had been something to look at. But this wasn’t some spirit of death, as she supposed her friend Applejack had become. This was Death itself. She was no person to watch, and probably not even a mind as she understood it. “I’m not here for that. If ‘Nightwatcher’ is Luna, then she didn’t even suggest I ask about that.”

How much of what I’m hearing is my own imagination? How much of any of this is actually happening? It was easier to think that maybe this whole night was a fever-dream. She would wake up in bed with Spike asleep on the ground at her hooves and everything would go back to the way it was.

“Then come forward,” the voice urged. “Many have come before me. Ask, and we will see.” See what, the voice didn’t tell.

Twilight obeyed anyway, as much out of curiosity as fear for what Death would do if she refused. She tried hard not to smell the flowers, and made each step securely. The well was shorter than she was, and it would’ve been easy to trip and fall inside if she wasn’t careful.

She stepped close enough, looked down, and at first she couldn’t see anything at all. It was blinding, whatever was down there, blasting up into her face. But no… she blinked, and realized what she saw was only her own reflection in the water far below.

“This is it?” The words slipped out before she had fully realized what she was saying. “I mean, not to disregard your domain, or your powerful impact on the lives of…”

She heard laughter from behind her. “Things come apart, Twilight Sparkle. The center cannot hold. There will be less magic in the universe tomorrow than there was today. In ancient days, this well was something more grand. Souls of all kinds came with their demands, and there was power enough to fulfill them all.

“Power spent returns again, but always some is lost. Yet the souls who visit are shadows of what once was, barely-real echoes from a greater age. Perhaps enough remains for you.”

“I don’t want to live for just a year,” Twilight Sparkle said. “I’m not ready. I think I have more to offer Equestria. And I want to live long enough to do that.”

“Few are ready,” said Death, whispering into her ear. “I know the fantasy you believed, it is the same one that so many mortals share. You think I am out of reach—you imagined all the years you had ahead of you, that after all that life you would be ready. But deep down, I think you knew that isn’t true. When one of my servants came for you, you would still wish for one more day. One new spell you might invent, one more mystery you might solve. There will always be one more.”

Twilight wanted to argue—yet as she opened her mouth to protest, to insist that she was different, that only because her death had come so soon was she upset—she realized that wasn’t true. Twilight saw the future before her as a never-ending series of opportunities. Was there any milestone she might cross, and decide right there it was enough?

If there was, surely becoming an Alicorn was it. Almost nopony ever does that. And as she thought that, she realized she wasn’t alone after all.

There was another pony with her, on the other side of the well. A pony almost her size, who proved only to be shadow cast by the flowers when she looked too closely. Yet if she didn’t search for the pony, she was impossible to miss. How long had she been there?

The voice didn’t seem to move around anymore as it spoke. Nor was it shifting—it was distinctly female, and close enough to her own that she almost sounded like family. “Be honest with yourself, Twilight Sparkle. Did you come here so you could live forever?”

“No,” she said, and she meant it. “But I want to live more than a year. It seems like Equestria is in constant danger. Maybe it’s selfish of me to think that I’m the pony who will make the difference against the next big threat… but my friends and I brought Luna back to her sister. We saved Equestria from Discord. Without me, the Elements of Harmony are useless. Sure, there might be other friends who can use them… but there might not.”

There was a long silence. The shadowy figure on the other side of the well approached the ruin, brushing aside some of the moss with a hoof. She took hold of the old crank on the side of the well, and began to move. It creaked, and a little bucket began to descend past her, on a bit of frayed rope.

“I cannot simply extend life, Alicorn. Your kind will have to discover those mysteries on your own. What I can do, however, is bind. A pair of young sisters once came to me, when they realized the terrible consequences of their magic. They begged for more time, so that they might use the powers they had gained to protect the ones they loved. Yet when they came, it was up to them to choose what in all creation their souls would twist and bind. They chose the most enduring objects they knew, not realizing how long a sentence they signed themselves.”

There was a splash from far below. Twilight’s eyes jumped to the sound, and again she could see light in the ripples the bucket made. Light beyond the brightest sunlight, illuminating the vast cavern with its unthinkably distant ceiling.

The shadow of Death was suddenly in front her, and everything before Twilight’s eyes began to blur. She could see through it, but only while she looked directly at something. Otherwise, she saw only blackness where its body ought to be. “What will I bind to you, Twilight Sparkle? What is it you must see until the end?”

Twilight looked away, unable to stare into the partially-solid thing for very long. By the time she looked back, it was gone, standing again at the other side of the well. It began to crank again, reeling in the bucket. “Does it have to be a thing?”

“No.” Again the voice sounded pleased. “It doesn’t have to exist as stars and moons. So long as it is real to you, it is real enough. Choose with care, however. If strange eons pass, and you find yourself waiting beside me for the death of the last star, that is how long you must wait. What you bind will be bound.”

Twilight was staggered by the idea of living as long as a star. From what she knew of astronomy, that meant the thousand years Celestia had waited without her sister would be less than an eyeblink in the time she would endure. Would ponies even exist for the majority of that time?

Twilight didn’t like the idea of her mentor stuck alone, waiting until the death of the sun. But at the same time, she wouldn’t pick the same fate for herself if there was another option. What can’t I live without? Princess Celestia had already taught her that. “Friendship. That’s what I want. Equestria might grow, might be replaced one day… but so long as there are still friends out there, there’s still something worth protecting. There’s still more to do. When all the friends are gone, well… guess I’ll be done.”

The silence didn’t last nearly as long this time. Twilight watched the figure, and found it seemed to be growing more distinct the longer she looked at it. Not a vague blob of shadows at all, but a pony with a light gray coat, and a long mane that drifted behind it in an unseen breeze. It wasn’t an Alicorn though, only an earth pony. Maybe that meant something.

Death removed the bucket from the well, sloshing full of… something. Every time it moved there were little flashes of light, and Twilight’s magic senses could register something there. A little strange, since she couldn’t sense the pony holding it. How could the pony move it without a horn of her own?

“Are you certain of that, Twilight? There will be no later chance to change your mind. As time stretches on, as you are forced to live while others do not, you will think back to this moment. Perhaps you will wish you made another choice.”

“Perhaps,” Twilight repeated. “But it’s the best choice, I think. So long as there are friends to make, then there are things I could do.”

“Then it will be,” Death said, stopping just in front of her with the bucket. It looked old, and larger than she’d expected. Something that might be used around a farm, maybe. “And when Friendship itself has died, I will be waiting for you. I hope for your sake you are ready for me then, and not filled with regrets you did not welcome me sooner. Or longing to be a part of whatever comes at the end of Friendship.”

Twilight opened her mouth to reply—a mistake. She felt a sudden jerk as something slammed her head down into the bucket, and fire surged down her throat. She gasped by reflex, and that only made things a dozen times worse.

There was a splash, and Twilight wasn’t standing by a well anymore. She hadn’t just had her head shoved into the bucket—she was completely submerged in fire. It burned all over—but her eyes were the worst. This was far worse than the public pool she’d learned to swim in as a child, with its chemicals to keep clean. This was like the worst laboratory accidents she’d heard about, alchemists spilling their reagents all over themselves.

She screamed, but that only made things worse. She twisted and contorted and barely even realized she was drowning. If she could see, she expected she’d have seen her flesh itself dissolving. She flailed and flapped her wings uselessly, trying to lift herself to the surface of… whatever she’d fallen into. The well?

This is how I die, she thought. It’s a trick. Death just made me trust it so it could get close, and now I’m dying.

But then again, Twilight wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t the foal who had barely been able to levitate a book. If anything, her magic had received a powerful boost when she became an Alicorn. She could teleport from Canterlot to Ponyville if she wanted!

But before she could get together the concentration to form the spell, her head broke the surface of the liquid. She hacked the contents of her lungs out into the water, gagging and spluttering and whimpering in pain.

The air itself appeared transformative—no sooner did she feel it against her face than the pain all over her body began to ebb away. One wing brushed against something slick and stony, and she drifted over towards it, trying to get purchase.

She didn’t feel as though whole sections of her flesh were being eaten away anymore, either.

At first, she feared as though the blindness was genuine—but no, she was only looking straight up, where brilliant sunlight was shining down on her from above. That meant it was noon?

She could hear voices—many of them, actually. Ponies talking in the carefree, casual way they did at market. She could even recognize some of the voices.

I’m in Ponyville’s market well, Twilight realized. “Help! Help!” She looked up, casting her voice as high as she could. “I’m stuck!”

There was an iron grate at the top of the well, with an opening only wide enough for the bucket. But that didn’t stop her voice, and soon enough she saw a gray-furred pegasus mare poke her head in, looking down. “Hello? I don’t think anypony is supposed to be down there.”

Twilight flapped one wing in annoyance. “No I’m not, Derpy. Could you bring some help? Applejack’s stand should be nearby—tell her I fell into the well! She’ll know what to do!”

Twilight tried another teleport, but the magic didn’t seem to want to come. Her horn flickered and spluttered, and only some of the water beside her vanished. From the splash and squeals of surprise from above, she could guess where it had gone.

Her erstwhile rescuer might not be the brightest mare in Ponyville, but a few minutes later and she had returned with Applejack. Her friend didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her there, though the crowd gathering around the grate certainly looked shocked.

It was a good thing Twilight knew how to swim. Despite her weakness, she could manage an occasional flap of her feathers to keep her above the surface of the water.

Soon enough Twilight was slumped against the side of the well, wrapped in a towel the gray pegasus had retrieved while Applejack worked, and repeating the same lie to anypony who asked how she had got there.

“Teleporting from Canterlot is harder than I thought,” she said over and over. “I guess I still need some practice.”

It hurt a little to lie to so many of them—including several of her friends. Pinkie Pie brought over a cupcake shaped like the well, and Twilight couldn’t even guess how she could’ve baked it so quickly.

In the end, ponies returned to their business, leaving the novelty of the town’s new Alicorn behind. Except Applejack, who had stayed under the pretense of “bending the grate back.”

Once the ponies dispersed, she bent the iron with barely any effort, securing it over the shaft.

Well, one pony had stayed behind. Twilight rung the large towel out, levitating it back towards the mare who had given it to her. “Thanks for letting me borrow that, Derpy.”

“No problem,” the mare said, taking the damp towel on her shoulder. “I always keep a few of these handy, just in case. You’ve got to be more careful, Princess.”

Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get the words out, the pegasus was already fluttering away through the air.

“I guess I know what you decided,” Applejack said, inclining her head slightly.

“How?” Twilight asked, keeping her voice down. “It hasn’t been a year yet.”

“Ponies who make it that far either get what they came for, or they don’t come back,” Applejack whispered. Then she turned, back towards where her sister was manning the stall. When she spoke again, it was a little louder—for the ponies still moving about the marketplace to hear. “Anyways Twi, Derpy’s right. You should be more careful.” She walked away, leaving a damp Twilight alone.

She made her way back to the library a few minutes later, still trailing water as she went.

Spike had been sitting in one of the library benches, surrounded by a small ocean of comic books and empty ice-cream tubs. He sat up with a jerk, sending both to the ground around him. “I’m up!” he announced to no one, before turning to see Twilight. “Oh, h-heh.” He got up, standing between her and the mess. “I didn’t think you’d be back until late. Celestia sent a letter to say she’d sent you on a mission and it might take you a little while.”

“Well, I’m back.” Twilight didn’t say a word about his mess, didn’t even look at it. “I’m gonna take a nap. Then maybe visit Rarity a little later. Once I feel alive again.”

“Awesome!” Spike followed her as far as the base of the stairs. “Can I come?”

“Sure, Spike. Just make sure the library doesn’t burn down until I wake up.”

“Sure thing!” He saluted up the stairs. “I will protect it with my life!”

“And… make sure you don’t spill ice cream on our comic section.”

“Right.” Spike turned away, darting over to the pile of disordered comic books.

Twilight didn’t watch him after that. Charon’s words still haunted her, more than anything else that she had seen. Apparently, he knew one of her friends was in danger, and wanted her to help.

She would, once she got a little sleep.

Author's Notes:

And that's the end of the first part. For better or worse, I've settled on the Netflix model with this story--I'll be writing one of Twilght's friends' whole section, then posting it in chapters at the same(ish) time. Sorry to say you'll have to wait a little while for the next pony's part.

Hopefully not too long. This first part was a ton of fun to write. I wasn't sure if anyone would care to read this kind of story, but... I'm glad I was wrong.

Chapter 2.1: Sanguine Express

Twilight Sparkle hadn't intended to sleep so long. But considering what she had endured—more than anypony she knew who wasn't an alicorn—she hadn't bothered to set her alarm. Her mission to see Rarity was important, but surely whatever Charon had meant could wait a few hours.

By the time she finally woke up, the light streaming in through her blinds was already stained orange. A quick glance at her calendar on the wall told her it was Friday, which didn't bode well. Rarity spent her Friday evenings attending fashion conferences all over Equestria. They were fancy parties, the sort that wouldn't start until quite late, but even so. Twilight shoved herself out of the blankets, spent a few seconds grooming her hair, then vanished with a brief pop.

I'm sorry Spike. I wanted to bring you. Twilight was loathe to break a promise, but she couldn't risk missing Rarity. What if the dangerous thing she was about to do was related to her conference somehow?

She appeared outside the Carousel Boutique, moments later. It was already closed, the sign turned, and the lights inside dimmed, but Twilight didn't worry about that. She pushed the doors open. Or tried. They were locked.

Had this warning been any less serious, she probably would've given up, and waited for Rarity to return come late tomorrow. But considering where she'd received the warning, and from whom... she didn't want to make it wait. Twilight Sparkle was not the sort of pony to just wait and hope that things would work out. Her neuroticism could get her into trouble, like the time she'd been desperate to prevent a world-ending disaster by traveling backward in time. The disaster had only really been to her own sanity.

But this might be different. She couldn't just walk away.

Twilight kept banging on the door for a few more minutes, until she finally heard a voice from inside. Annoyance, maybe a little fear. "Rarity says I'm not supposed to open it for anypony. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

That was Sweetie Belle's voice from inside.

"Sweetie Belle, it's Twilight. I need to see your big sister—it's very important."

She heard a few seconds of rustling as Sweetie Belle unlocked the door. It swung open seconds later, revealing a Sweetie Belle that was wearing pajamas and looking worried. Twilight could smell something coming from the kitchen, something that didn't smell very edible. How much garlic did you use?

"Princess," Sweetie Belle squeaked, lowering her head in a slightly confused bow. Ponies were doing that a lot lately. "I'm sorry, you won't be able to tell my sister anything. She's already gone."

Twilight winced, gesturing with a wing for Sweetie to stand up properly. This bowing thing was uncomfortable, particularly when she knew the ponies involved. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to this. She couldn't imagine doing that, but Celestia and Luna didn't seem to mind it. "When did she leave? Where is she? Maybe I can catch her before she makes it out of Ponyville."

Sweetie Belle looked away, her ears flattening. The filly looked like she'd just been asked to tattle on one of her friends. "Well, I... I'm not really supposed to tell anypony..."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "You think there's something Rarity wouldn't want me to know?"

The child stared at her wings for a few seconds. "Well, uh... I guess probably not?" She stepped to the side, gesturing urgently for Twilight to come in. She checked the street with a nervous glance, and locked the door after Twilight had followed her in.

"I'm not supposed to tell anypony. Rarity named you and your other friends specifically. It's just too dangerous for you to get involved, and that you'd reeeeeaaallly want to if you found out."

Twilight tensed. The more of this she heard, the more it sounded exactly like something that might put her friend in danger of a premature death. How long have you been keeping secrets from us, Rarity? It wasn't as though she was the only one. None of them knew that Applejack was working for the Pale Mare. Maybe they never would. "Well, I'm a princess now. Whatever it is, it can't be too dangerous for me. Please, Sweetie Belle. Your sister is in danger, and I might be the only pony in Equestria who can help."

That did it. The foal winced, looking away from her. "Well, uh... she's on her way to Canterlot. She's taking the nine-o'clock express. In one of her fancy disguises. Also, it's... got a dress code. They'll never let you on looking like that." She blushed, looking away. "S-sorry, Princess. Please don't send me to the moon."

Twilight's expression darkened, though not because she was upset with the filly. Twilight was the sort of pony who always knew the train schedules, so that she could know how long it would take her to get anywhere in Equestria, no matter the hour. The problem was—there was no nine-o'clock train. The last train left at eight, which had probably already passed. "Are you sure? I thought the Appleloosa mail carrier was the last train on Wednesdays."

"Uh..." Sweetie Belle met her eyes again. She seemed confident, if intimidated by Twilight's reaction. "Pretty sure. I only went the one time, but... I'm pretty sure." She advanced, looking desperate. "Please don't tell her I told you! If she finds out, she'll kill me for sure!"

"I'll make sure she doesn't," Twilight said. She would've liked to make that promise, but there was just no way Rarity wouldn't figure it out. Twilight needed a change of clothes, and she needed one quickly. "I, uh... I'd like to buy a dress." She walked past her, to the glittering display case. She could see the gown there, the one Rarity put into her window to advertise to passing ponies. It was the kind of evening gown that might be worn by the finest mares, the kind who could tell different wines apart and spoke with exotic accents.

"I need to buy that dress." She saw the price tag, then quickly looked away again. Three months librarian's salary. Good thing I'm a princess now, right Celestia? Hopefully the princess saw things the same way.

The dress didn't fit well. Twilight had always had a slim build, but now she was also just a tiny bit taller, which made things difficult with a garment so form-fitting. Particularly since the dress didn't have openings for her wings. Twilight had been forced to cast an awkward illusion spell on herself, concealing the huge bulges in the fabric that would've made her look as crass as Applejack attempting to board this train in muddy boots and her stetson.

She hadn't walked across Ponyville once she bought the dress, but teleported right outside the train station. As she had expected, she saw the train for Appleloosa chugging its way down the tracks, leaving them behind. The lights had been trimmed to a dull orange glow, and the barricades had already been put up. Twilight muttered a quiet curse, regretting that she had thought to trust a pony as unreliable as Sweetie Belle... until she saw the train parked quietly on the other side of the station, on the maintenance track. It was indeed an express, with every single one of its windows darkened with blinds.

She stumbled towards it, conjuring a little glow to help light her way through the gloom. But she didn't get very far.

Just a few steps in, a burly stallion emerged from the shadows to block her path. He wore something like a night-guard uniform, except that there was no metal, and no insignia. Just dark fabric to conceal his appearance in the gloom. "Excuse me," he said, not sounding like he particularly cared about being excused. "You're lost. This train station is closed."

"I'm..." She straightened, biting back her fear. "I'm going to get on the nine-o'clock express." She pointed with one hoof. "Right there."

"Is that so?" The stallion looked her up and down, eyes lingering appreciatively on the dress. This was not the dignified Ponyville citizen—whoever this was had no shame about staring at her. She shivered, but didn't try to stop him. "Who sent you? Blood, court, pact? I don't know your face. Though... I think I saw that cutie mark in the paper."

Twilight could see the intensity in his face, and knew she wouldn't have much time to think about her answer. This was apparently the sort of question she was supposed to answer easily, like asking who her family was. "I, uh... Charon sent me." It was a silly answer, and she knew it. But what else was she supposed to say? Sweetie Belle hadn't known what Rarity was doing here, or who had sent her. Otherwise she could just claim to belong to the same group of ponies and be done.

The thug seemed taken-aback by her response. "Up from the Styx, you?" He looked her up and down. "What's your name, deadwalker?"

"It's Twi—" She swallowed. "Twinkle Pine"

The stallion raised an eyebrow, then jotted something down on a pad of paper. "We'll be leaving in ten minutes, 'Twinkle Pine.' Board through the caboose. Unless you're not sure about being able to pay when we arrive." He tucked his paper away, then stalked off back into the gloom, leaving Twilight alone on the platform again.

Twilight had to climb off the platform to make it to the caboose. She lifted the dress as best she could, making sure not to drag it behind her as she went. It was worth more than anything else she owned, and she wasn't sure Sweetie Belle had been allowed to sell it. At least I know Rarity will recognize me when I find her.

That still left one significant question unanswered. What in Celestia's name was her friend up to that she'd been noticed by some spirit of the dead? How long had she been riding secret trains at night, guarded by angry-looking thugs? At least it can't be any weirder than Applejack, whatever it is.

Twilight teleported the brief distance from the ground to the back of the caboose, unwilling to try and climb wearing a dress made of so many layers of fragile lace and flowing silk. The door wasn't locked.

The train's interior was even more opulent than Twilight had first been expecting. Fancy new electric lamps instead of gas lined the walls of cars covered in elegant scrollwork and exotic wood. There aren't any express trains that look like this.

And it wasn't just the trains themselves. There were a handful of ponies in sharp suits, wearing polished metal crossbows and watching her skeptically as she entered. Neither actually tried to stop her from getting on, though—apparently the dress had worked.

I made it after all. Now I just have to find Rarity. There were only three cars on this train, so it wouldn't be hard.

She passed into the next car, nodding politely to a half-dozen or so sharply dressed ponies. She could feel their eyes on her as she passed, and she didn't linger on the strange-smelling tray of refreshments. Rich ponies had weird tastes, and these had been sitting out long enough for the ice to melt.

Finally she was through the last car, where she could see a single pony in a trench coat facing away from her, hat covering their mane. This better be her.

If Sweetie Belle had been wrong after all, she was going to have an awkward time getting off the train before—the ground jerked just a little, as the engine began to roar, pulling them slowly out of the station. Last chance to teleport. There were no other ponies in the car to overhear, just a tray of more conventional refreshments and half a dozen comfortable private seats.

"Excuse me," Twilight asked, when she had gotten closer. Close enough to see the large case resting beside the pony, currently closed. I wonder how she got on the train dressed like that.

The pony turned, and Twilight caught sight of her friend's familiar blue eyes, behind a pair of slightly tinted glasses. Her mane had been tied in a tight, distinctly non-Rarity sort of way. "Yes, dar—" She froze momentarily, taking in Twilight's appearance in a single shocked instant. The train began to accelerate, rocking slightly to one side as they took the turn back onto the main track out of Ponyville. There were no other stops before Canterlot.

Rarity rose instantly to her hooves, staring at the connecting door behind Twilight, then looking back to her. Her voice dropped to an angry, terrified hiss. "What in Celestia's name are you doing here, Twilight?" She reached out, jerking Twilight into her private box, and slamming the wood shut. There was still a large glass window to the rest of the car, though there was nopony outside to hide from.

She shoved Twilight back with surprising force, glancing back at the entrance every few moments. But so far, nopony new had entered.

Twilight herself was staggered by the sudden forcefulness. She collected herself a moment later, settling down into the seat across from Rarity. That way, she would be able to easily glance at the door into the car without needing to look over her shoulder. "I have an important message for you," she said. "I, uh... I'm sorry if it's not convenient. I can teleport home as soon as I'm done. Though... maybe I shouldn't. You're not in trouble, are you?"

Rarity removed her hat, briefly adjusting her mane underneath. It was all woven tightly together, an intricate braid that would've kept it out of the way even if she were standing on the deck of an airship. "I’m not in trouble, Twilight. But that might be about to change. How did you..." Then she saw the dress. Her face passed through a rapid series of emotions, not settling on any one long enough for Twilight to get a good idea. "Oh. Sweetie Belle. She told you, didn't she?"

Twilight nodded. "She did. But just because this was important! I should've visited you earlier, but I couldn't let it wait."

Rarity sighed, glancing over her shoulder again. She leaned down, briefly unlatching the case she carried, though she left it closed. Ready to kick open and reveal whatever was inside. "You really should have. It isn't that I don't love an evening out with my friends, dear... but this isn't an evening out. You've wandered into one of the most dangerous parts of Equestria. Possibly blown my cover, too..." She sighed deeply, removing her glasses for a second and looking away. "Regardless, I suppose the damage is done. You might as well tell me whatever it is you've come to say. Then you can pop off home and I can deal with the pieces you leave behind."

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "I'm here to help, Rarity. I'm sure whatever this is... if you're in danger because of me, I should fix it. That's part of why I'm here to begin with."

Rarity shook her head, expression dark. "Believe you me, Twilight, I would like nothing more than to 'fix' this troublesome situation as quickly as possible. Sadly there is nothing you can do... perhaps nothing anypony can do..." She trailed off, looking briefly away. "Regardless, might as well deliver your message. Be quick about it, we could have visitors at any moment. Best if you're gone before that happens."

Twilight had no intention of leaving before anything happened, but there was no reason to waste time arguing the point yet. "I just... well, I'm not allowed to say. I recently came back from a mission for the princesses. They sent me..." How much could she even say about it? How convincing will I be if I don't tell her any of the details? “I spent some of yesterday with one of the wisest ponies alive." Neither “alive” nor “pony” was strictly true, but it was as close as she could think of. "They admired your work, actually. They'd seen some of it."

"A fan," Rarity repeated, settling back into her seat. She did still glance back every now and then, even though Twilight was obviously doing it herself. "Clearly they were one of the wisest ponies. But... what could they have possibly told you that was urgent enough to follow me here? Why not just send me a telegram?"

Twilight ignored the question. "This 'pony', he... he's one of the wisest ponies alive, like I said. And he has access to information that nopony else has, not even the princesses. He asked me to warn you about something. Because... you were about to do something dangerous. He didn't say what it was, but he did say that if you did it, you would certainly die. He wanted you to change your mind about it and try something else."

Twilight felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Even if she hadn't owed Charon the favor, it was still good to have it gone, and the important news revealed. Unfortunately, she couldn't just walk away and wash her hooves of whatever happened next. Rarity was her friend, so she had to make sure Charon's advice was listened to. He'd been only helpful with her, after all.

Rarity did not look worried, or frightened, or even mildly convinced. "That, uh... dear, you realize how, well... how vague that sounds, don't you? All ponies are mortal—I could trip on my way out of the Boutique. I could be standing under Miss Derpy during a piano delivery. I could eat some of my sister's cooking without realizing it.”

Twilight's eyes narrowed. She thought she could hear something from down the hall, though she couldn't be sure. Trains weren't exactly quiet, after all. Based on her judgement of their speed, they ought to be about halfway to Canterlot by now, though she wouldn't be able to tell for sure without opening the windows. "Rarity, come on. You just told me how dangerous it was to be here, how I needed to leave. Obviously this is what he meant."

Her friend looked thoughtful. "Twilight. There are... a great many ponies who would see me give up. Many of them... aren't as honest and thoughtful as they seem. I don't know how much I'm permitted to say... but you're a princess now, and anyway you're here. I'm here undercover, acting as an agent of the Crown. I don't know how likely it is that I'm still undercover after you just waltzed onto the Sanguine Express like this, but even so." She stiffened a little. "You know better than most that Equestria isn't always as safe as ponies think it is, Twilight. Princess Celestia requires many hooves to keep it that way. I am four of those.

"And anypony who tried to stop me—some of them well-meaning, others only wishing to insulate themselves from what a pony like me might discover. This... wise pony of yours. Where did you meet him? Celestia's school, perhaps?"

"The River Styx," Twilight answered, before she'd had the chance to think. "He was the boatman."

Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but Twilight never heard what she said.

The door at the other end of the hall banged open, and several ponies rushed in. Not grizzled thugs, as she would've expected, but the fancy ponies she had passed on her way in. Except—they didn't look much like ponies anymore. Their eyes seemed to glow red, their features twisted and distorted. The pegasus ponies all had batlike wings, but not like Luna's thestrals. Their fangs were sharp, and their hunger as intense as their anger.

Rarity moved lightning-quick, smacking the case so it opened and removing what was within. Twilight's eyes widened as she saw it—a folded crossbow, made of metal instead of wood, with Rarity's characteristic grace worked into every inch of it. By the time the four intruders had made it halfway across the car, she already had it up and a dark wooden bolt loaded into place.

"What are those?" Twilight asked, her voice weak as she stared through the window. Their attackers hesitated as they saw the crossbow, clumping up near the doorway. They seemed to be glancing between one another, as though deciding who would be forced to open it first.

Rarity brandished the weapon at them, far more aggressively than Twilight had ever seen her act before. "Begone, demons! You will not lay a hoof on my friend!"

"We aren't here for her," one of them hissed, forcing Twilight to see those long teeth, dripping with something red. The same metallic-smelling liquid she'd seen on their food trays? The stallion stood in front of the door, apparently the bravest of these monsters. "Come out to us, Assassin, and we will spare her life. It is your blood the Prince wants, not hers."

What in Celestia's name is anypony talking about? Twilight found herself thinking, increasingly frustrated. Her horn sparked weakly, as she thought through a few defensive spells. Teleporting while riding a moving train was extremely dangerous, considering her momentum would be conserved. More than that, she'd learned in her last few years serving Celestia that just because something was scary didn't mean it was bad. But Rarity seems to think so. That crossbow isn't a toy. The bolt sitting there, ready to fire at any moment, was certainly sharp enough to kill.

She tried to remember anything in mythology that this might correspond to, but nothing came to mind. Twilight Sparkle had always looked on books like that as a waste of her time. Magic was real, obviously, but ponies sometimes took that as an excuse to write about anything, no matter how absurd that something might be.

Rarity shrugged off her coat with a twist of her neck. Underneath, she was wearing something a little like armor and cloth woven together—chain mail, an elegant purple and silver as fine as anything Rarity might've sold her customers. There was also a glittering rapier hanging from her shoulder, always within reach. Many non-unicorns mistakenly assumed that unicorns could only focus on one item at a time. Would these strange ponies do likewise? "I suggest you leave and tell that leech that Princess Celestia is coming for him. Advise him to get his will in order, send his farewells. Die with the dignity you abandoned when you were still ponies."

It was Twilight's turn to gape. She'd never heard anything so unkind from her generous friend, not even that time her mind had been controlled by Discord's evil magic. She just threatened to kill someone!

"Get behind me, Twilight," Rarity whispered.

There wasn't enough time for that. The stallion slammed the door open, and Rarity's crossbow-bolt smashed into his chest. He fell, even as his three companions came in behind, one unarmed while two others wielded rapiers just like Rarity's.

Twilight was an alicorn—her magic was unmatched by almost any creature in Equestria. Yet she found herself utterly stunned, unable to act. She had just seen one of her good friends kill right in front of her eyes! This didn't happen! Equestria was a safe place!

She felt only dimly as Rarity shoved her backward, out of the way, before raising her sword so quickly that it slashed into the lead attacker's neck. Twilight couldn't even look at what happened next, though the wet sound was confirmation enough.

She heard steel smashing against steel, grunts of pain, and she forced herself to look up. Rarity had advanced out through the open doorway, battling with the remaining two attackers. She didn't seem to be winning, either. She had only the one sword, though she used the crossbow's metal frame to stop swings as well.

These ponies struck with enough force that Rarity was driven back with every swing. She fought as skillfully as she crafted, but it wouldn't be enough.

The pony whose throat she had cut started to rise. Twilight shivered, feeling her blood go cold in her chest as she saw it. A pony that had been limp in a pool of putrid blood now turned on her.

That was as much watching as Twilight could do. Frightened or not, in over her head or not, Twilight had to do something! She focused on the one who should've been dead, smacking her with a teleportation spell. Not a powerful one, just a dozen feet backwards. Outside the train. The other two realized Twilight was up, and the unicorn broke away from his pegasus companion, stepping over his fallen comrade.

Twilight backed away, whimpering as she found herself suddenly unable to concentrate. What was going on? Twilight couldn't be here, she was going to die! Can I? Did Death promise me I wouldn't age, or am I actually immortal? In a way that might be worse. If bad ponies captured her...

The pony bent down, yanking the stake out from the chest of the stallion. Black blood was visible beneath, seeping and gurgling from the opening. At least, for a few seconds. It sealed, and the pony who had fallen rose to his hooves again.

He took in the situation in a glance—Rarity facing off with a pegasus, now about evenly-matched. Twilight fearfully backing away, and the other unicorn nowhere in sight. "Who are you?" he asked Twilight, remarkably calm for someone who had just suffered a mortal wound. "No thrall. Not even attempting to conceal it." He inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing as he leered at her. There was bestial hunger visible there, more barbaric than any dragon. "So much power. But how could a pony with magic like yours have stumbled accidentally onto this train?"

"Y-you should be dead..." Twilight said, shivering all over. "You're still bleeding..."

"Not for much longer," he said. "The assassin brought plenty of food for all of us. We'll be good as new when we arrive."

Twilight's horn glowed, preparing another teleport. She struck at the unicorn first—but he was ready. His counterspell angled the teleport to one side, where it struck the dividing wall instead. It vanished with a crash, torn right out of the train to smash onto the ground outside. She could hear the glass shattering, however faintly.

Rarity was right, I have no idea what I’m doing here. Maybe she didn't, but Twilight was an Alicorn. She'd stood up to Discord, and Nightmare Moon, and worse. The unicorn's horn glowed a sickly green—but she didn't give him the chance to cast anything. Twilight cast another teleport—this one aimed at herself. There was no way even a skilled sorcerer could stop that, not without preparing a curse beforehand. She appeared on the other side of the room, a little behind Rarity.

"Duck!"

Her friend obeyed, and Twilight blasted into the pegasus she'd been fighting with a wave of magical force, smashing him backward through several dividing walls and into the side of the train. They didn't stay long enough to see what happened next—Twilight yanked on her hoof, tugging her through the doorway to the connector.

Twilight aimed another spell straight down, melting the steel connecting the engine to the rest of the train. She braced her hind legs against the car, then shoved with all her magical might. It wasn't just a force on the other half—the same force that acted on the rest of the train pushed on them, blasting them forward so fast she heard the engine itself begin to protest. In mere seconds, Twilight watched the rest of the train vanish into the gloom.

Of course, with all that magic drained from her, she felt as weak as a sponge that had just been wrung-out. "What about... the engineer?"

Rarity cast a spell at the metal door into the engine, then pushed it open.

The pony inside dressed exactly as any other engineer Twilight had known, wearing suspenders and a big hat. "Excuse me sir!" Rarity shouted, over the roaring of the engine. "Are you all right?"

He didn't respond, didn't look away from his equipment, didn't even blink. Rarity turned back. "Enthralled. He's no danger to anyone."

Twilight sighed, collapsing through the metal door to the piping-hot engine room. The engineer turned—but he still wasn't looking at them. He lifted a shovel from the hook, and shoveled a few large scoops of coal into the boiler.

Rarity shut the door behind them, sealing it with another spell. "I daresay that could have gone better."

Author's Notes:

Behold as the secrets rise from the ashes! As before, I'll be updating daily until the section is complete.

I have always prided myself on leaving no story unfinished. This passion project has been a thorn in my side for a long time, one I deeply love. Let's make sure she gets the ending she deserves, eh?

Chapter 2.2: Family

It was too loud to have much of a conversation in here. Twilight still felt drained, but not so exhausted that she would just let the insanity she'd just witnessed slip by. One of her best friends had just killed a pony before her eyes, except moments later he had risen to his hooves and spoken to Twilight as though nothing happened. She herself had teleported a pony who should've died traveling at the speed of an express train, to who knew what fate when she hit the ground.

So despite the noise, despite her momentary weariness, Twilight spoke. "What in Celestia's name was that?" she asked. "None of that... I guess I don't know what's possible any more. Thank Celestia I didn't bring Spike with me..."

Their swords would've done little to a dragon's sturdy scales, but that didn't mean he was invulnerable.

Rarity nodded, casually undoing the little ribbons that bound her mane. "That is fortunate. I've known dragons to get into this business, but Spike... he simply lacks the temperament. It would destroy him. It would destroy most ponies, I'm afraid." Her eyes narrowed as she looked Twilight over. "It's best if you just forget any of this happened. We should be passing through a few little towns on our way up to Canterlot. We can find you an opportune place to jump. You said something about a long-range teleport..."

Twilight wanted to scream. Her friend had no idea what she'd seen and done. She had gone beyond death, walked the Underworld—did she really think Twilight couldn't handle herself? I wasn't exactly Daring Do back there. But she banished that thought too. "Rarity, I'm not leaving without an explanation. I'm a princess now, do you really think I won't be able to find out what's going on here? A few messages in Canterlot... either I'll find out exactly what this is, or I'll blunder into those ponies who attacked you without you there. I think I deserve an explanation."

Rarity sighed, removing a crank from her case and beginning the difficult job of reloading her crossbow. It took an enormous amount of force, but she had her magic and few ponies had as much simple concentration as Rarity. Twilight had seen her sew whole wardrobes all at the same time. "I suppose... there's nothing for it, Twilight."

She advanced, eyes narrowing to slits. "But I must have your word this information does not reach the others. Normally when you discover something like this you gather up everypony, maybe warm up for a song, and try to work out everything in a few minutes. You must give me your solemn oath to speak nothing of this."

Twilight lifted her horn, and a little bubble of force appeared around them. The sound of the engine, the grinding on the tracks, it all vanished. Her brother's shielding spell could do far more than sound, but there was no rule that said Twilight could only use powerful spells for what they'd been designed. "There. Nopony will hear us."

Rarity deliberated for a few seconds more, before finally nodding in submission. "You're more aware than most that Equestria is dangerous, Twilight. We've discovered creatures that many other ponies believed only existed in myths. We've traveled to exotic locales, met with movers and shakers, that kind of thing." At Twilight's nod, she continued. "Do you really think Equestria could've survived this long with only the six of us to solve difficult problems? That every time some incredible villain arose the entire nation would've been at their mercy?"

She didn't give Twilight a chance to answer. "Obviously not. Princess Celestia has been aware of these dangers for some time. Many thousands of years, in fact. Long ago, an ancient order called The Knights of the Pillars was established, to protect Equestria from threats that ponies were better off not knowing about. You know how ponies are like... just look at Ponyville whenever something unusual happens. A zebra moves into the forest nearby and there's practically a riot. But obviously somepony has to fight back. That's us... the order is still around. I've been fighting monsters since I was very young. Trained, since..." She lowered her voice, but in the sudden silence Twilight could hear her fine.

"Since the attack that killed my parents."

Twilight gaped. "Your parents aren't dead. I've seen them visiting a few times. They... do like their vacations, but..."

Rarity pointed through the bubble at the engineer. "See that pony out there? He's a thrall. No will of his own... can't do anything except what he's been told. And he'll obey with exactness. He’ll drive this train right off a bridge and not have a second thought about it. There's no reversing the spell, no curing him... his mind has been completely destroyed. The soul is gone, but the body lives on. Created by... vampires."

Twilight Sparkle might've laughed at that word, were it not for her last two days. Now, though, she knew better than to assume anything that sounded strange could only be fictional. With that one word, so much of what they'd seen tonight made sense. The fangs, a warrior apparently killed but rising again once the stake was pulled free. Rarity's willingness to fight these beings with such disregard for the harm she caused.

"They're real," Rarity said. "Or at least, they have been for a long time. One of the legacies of Nightmare Moon's... well, it doesn't matter. Celestia banished her long ago, and we defeated her more recently, but that didn't undo all her work. Some of them date all the way back to the rebellion, her most trusted generals, sorcerers, and advisers. They don't age, don't grow weak... but they do feed on ponies. Take too much, and you get a thrall. Stop before that..." Her voice kept getting lower. The crossbow slumped in her magical grip. "Because somepony walked in on them before they could finish feeding... somepony with a cart of magical gems and a helping of good luck... and you get my sister."

Twilight winced. Of all the things Rarity could've said, that might be the most confusing. "I thought... Rarity, I just saw your sister, she's fine. I've seen her walking to class, I've seen her out playing with the Crusaders. She’s not a... she's not a vampire."

Rarity no longer seemed like she was on the edge of tears. "If you're thinking of the sun, that weakness only applies when they haven't eaten in a long time. So long as they get blood, they can pass for one of us. And the longer things go, the worse it gets. Check Sweetie Belle's attendance record next you get the chance. Her teacher thinks she has a rare blood condition, and... well, I suppose she does."

That thought just got darker the more Twilight considered it. If her sister was a vampire, did that mean she wouldn't ever age? She'd never get her cutie mark... all her searching was vain.

"After I killed that... thing... the Knights found me. Recruited me. And I've been hunting ever since."

"Hunting vampires?" Twilight asked. The words felt strange on her tongue, impossible to believe. But after everything else she was believing now...

"Hunting a cure," Rarity corrected. "But yes, quite a few vampires. It's possible to keep a vampire alive without anypony getting hurt. Enough donor blood, and the hunger won't drive them crazy. Equestria is a... properly civilized place. Most of them are registered. They have their donors, their supervisors to check on them. If you're alright with being the first pony the guard ever calls on when someone goes missing... you can live an almost normal life. But I plan on giving Sweetie Belle more than that. The thought of her, trapped so young, long after I'm gone. If she doesn't have enough understanding friends, or makes a mistake..."

Rarity straightened. "Most of Equestria's monsters are known. We aren't searching for them, we're searching for the ones who go bad. I sometimes have nightmares... of my sister..."

Twilight Sparkle leaned forward, embracing her. "It's okay, Rarity. I'm sure there's a way. All the other insane things I've seen lately, I can't imagine there wouldn't be. Maybe Starswirl got around to that."

“Oh, there is.” Rarity didn’t break away from her. “That’s what tonight is all about. I’m going to steal it.”

Twilight felt the chill of cold wrap around her chest as she remembered the words of the Underworld boatman. All this time she’d spent tracking Rarity and sticking a hoof in her plans, all for this moment. This had to be what she wasn’t supposed to do.

“From… the most powerful vampire in Equestria,” Rarity went on, sounding a little faint. Almost like she realized the insanity of what she was suggesting. “Out of the best-protected vaults bits have ever constructed.”

Twilight’s eyebrows went up. “If there’s a cure, why would a vampire want to hoard it? Doesn’t… fewer vampires mean fewer rivals for blood?”

Rarity shook her head. “If the Crown could locate the cure, we wouldn’t just give it to the ponies who were interested. We’d give it to all of them, whether they wanted it or not. It’s actually right in the Knight’s motto. ‘We will purify those twisted by the night.’ And as it turns out, the ancient and powerful vampires like what they have. They aren’t trapped as foals, and the idea of growing old doesn’t interest them much.”

“But you know about it,” Twilight went on. Could she get Rarity to see the flaws in this plan before the unicorn got herself killed? There was a kind of teaching that could take her through the facts slowly and inoffensively enough that she should be able to make the connections on her own. “Even though you work for the other side.”

They were traveling up a set of steep switchbacks now—the final leg of the train-ride before Canterlot itself. If Twilight was going to convince Rarity to change her mind, she needed to do it soon. “It’s a… complicated, indirect chain of informants and evidence,” Rarity said. “Explaining it all would take half the night. But yes, I’m certain. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what he’s holding. It’s an artifact… an ancient, powerful object, predating Equestria. Somehow it is the key to creating a cure.”

“And Celestia knows about this?”

“It would be Princess Luna,” Rarity corrected, casually. “She’s the one who oversees the, uh… children of the night. But no. There are informants on both sides! Even if a meeting with her was secret—word of my mission would spread before I could arrive. If the princess had given me permission, the cure might be moved or destroyed before I could reach it. It had to be something of my own initiative.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Y-you mean we’re… b-breaking the law?”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Look back in the train behind you, Twilight. We’re fighting creatures that do more than lie and steal. That stallion is worse than dead. My parents are like him. Oh, it’s always a rogue element, caught and punished! There are so many justly punished criminals trapped in Tartarus and the dungeons of Equestria. But what good does punishment do for them? My parents don’t care that I got revenge. If they could tell me anything—they would want Sweetie to have a normal life. How many other cases like hers do you think there are?”

I’m in over my head, Twilight realized. It was more or less what Rarity had told her when she arrived here, and now she felt it powerfully. This was an ongoing cold war, located right in the streets of Equestria. She didn’t really understand the powers arrayed on either side, didn’t understand their motivations, their magic, or the rules of their conflict.

If I don’t walk away from this, I might cause more harm than good. I might make things much worse without even knowing how.

But she could still see the twisted figure of the boatman, all wrapped in rags and leaning on his pole. “I was in the Underworld yesterday,” Twilight said again, abandoning all pretense of some clever twist in logic. “I spoke with the boatman. He doesn’t want you to die. If you do this… it feels like this is the moment.”

Rarity shrugged. “I don’t know that I believe in…” She cleared her throat. “Forgive my crassness, darling. I don’t mean to impugn your witness account. But just because I hunt one kind of dark creature doesn’t mean I can accept everything else about a world with no laws and no constants. Vampires are a disease, with symptoms that can be measured and perhaps cured. An Underworld, that is something different. Next I suppose you’ll tell me that I invite fairies for tea and the pale mare for dinner.”

I think you had her for dinner last week. But Twilight just kept her mouth shut. Rarity’s tone would brook no argument. “Suppose… forget about the source of the information. Imagine I tell you with absolute certainty this mission is going to get you killed. Do you turn around?”

Rarity sat back on her haunches, watching the mountain go by behind them. They’d left the switchbacks behind, and passed into the tunnel right before Canterlot’s main entrance. They probably weren’t expecting this train to arrive without a train. “That depends,” she eventually said. “Can you also tell me with confidence that my sister will not be cured as a result? Am I doomed to failure as well, or only to die?” She smiled ruefully, drawing her rapier and swinging it weakly through the air. “All mares die, Twilight. If my time comes fighting for the ponies I love, I can imagine worse.”

“Then… you’re not giving me a choice.” Twilight rose to her hooves. “I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 2.3: Vault

“This doesn’t look like the toughest vault in Equestria,” Twilight muttered, squinting through the gloom at the donut shop. It was closed, like so many other things this late at night. Nopony wanted a donut at midnight. I know this place. Donut Joe, are you a vampire too?

She doubted it, but Twilight made a mental note to check, just in case.

“That’s because you don’t know what you’re looking for,” Rarity said, turning sharply as they passed the alley. Twilight was forced to follow along behind—though there wasn’t another soul on the street with them. There was no chance they weren’t being watched, if this really was a place worth protecting.

“If it looked like a fortress, ponies would want to come and rob it. That’s the nature of the beast. Building an unbreakable lock is just an invitation for the best lockpicks to try their hoof until they get inside.”

She stopped in front of the back door, lowering her colored lenses. Twilight’s horn started to glow with a simple unlocking spell—and Rarity stuck out a hoof. “Stop! Dear, are you trying to get us killed?”

Twilight did stop, though she felt only confusion. “Rarity, uh… what are you talking about?”

Her friend lifted the glasses, settling them on the bridge of Twilight’s nose. Patterns appeared on the wood, written in the faint lines of runes, surging with power. It was unicorn magic, but the hoof that had written it had done so with such masterful skill that Twilight had to squint to even read what they’d written.

“Sweet Celestia, that’s… incredible.”

“Incredibly dangerous, certainly. I happen to know what this charm does. Suffice it to say we would not survive the encounter if you forced the door.”

Rarity lifted the glasses back off Twilight’s face, then reached into her case from before. Despite her violent opening earlier, it had taken only a modest beating. The locks still worked, and her tools were still safe inside.

Rarity lifted a length of rusty chain from inside, except—the links weren’t made of any metal Twilight recognized. Was she losing her mind, or were they flowing, like each one was made of invisible glass and liquid lead was inside.

Rarity lifted the chain in her magic, holding it up to the door. Then she whispered a spell, the one-word counterspell taught to foals in magical kindergarten.

The chain melted, spreading out around the door like a living thing. It covered every surface, concealed every bit of the places Twilight knew the runes were written, until the door seemed to be made of dull metal and not sturdy wood.

“What was—”

“Stygian lead,” Rarity whispered. “And if you’re about to ask where I got such a priceless object and how I even found any, now you know the perks of selling to the elite of Equestria.”

She reached out, twisting the knob and swinging the door open. “When you create priceless work, it demands something of equal worth in exchange.”

The door slid open, revealing—the back of a donut shop. Sacks of flour and sugar, an oversized mixing machine, an industrial icebox with liquid dripping out from the grate at the bottom into a drain.

Rarity seemed to know where she was going—though perhaps she was just following what her glasses let her see and Twilight could not. She marched straight over to the icebox, then lifted the grate with her magic and looked down. There was a black shaft, seeming to vanish into the bowels of Canterlot. Twilight lit up her horn for a second, but she still couldn’t see the bottom.

Rarity didn’t even hesitate. In one hoof she lifted a tight coil of thin metal wire from her case, so thin Twilight couldn’t imagine it supporting her weight. Then came the harness. She slipped it on with incredible speed, without so much as ruffling the armor she was wearing. “I’m afraid I didn’t pack for two, dear. You’ll have to… well, I trust you know some kind of spell for long drops.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, then pulled the dress gently down from her shoulders. She removed it as delicately as she could, but she could hear Rarity wince as the fabric strained, so obviously she hadn’t done a terribly good job. “I’ve got wings now.”

“Right.” Rarity looked at them, frowning to herself. “If any of our targets see that, Luna will kill me. She’ll probably kill me anyway when we finish, so I suppose I can’t be deader. You, though… may want to find something to do about them. You’re a princess now—do you really want the Crown to be implicated directly?”

Twilight winced, hanging up the dress on the edge of the mixer. From Rarity’s expression, that was not where she thought it belonged. “You just got through explaining how evil they were, and how much better it would be to break a little law to stop them from breaking the important ones—now suddenly it matters?”

“It always mattered. I just didn’t think you would actually go through with it until now.” Rarity tied off the cable around the edge of the icebox, then walked backwards until she was hanging off the edge, swallowed by blackness. “We have less than an hour before the next round of guards patrol this direction. No time to talk.” And she was gone, vanishing into the gloom.

Twilight watched, counting off the seconds and considering a flight out into the night. She could abandon this insane mission now…

And leave Rarity to her fate. And Sweetie Belle, and anypony else who had become a vampire against their will. We’ll be doing something good tonight.

She jumped, spreading her wings in a glide. The space was tight, barely enough for her whole wingspan. But gliding was the first thing she’d learned, and she did it well enough. Rarity’s form appeared below her, and there was the cable hanging vertically on the edge of the shaft. She flapped a little, slowing her fall enough that she wouldn’t hit her friend.

They passed quickly through what should’ve been a sewage drain, which had been cut and sliced through and a clear shaft down opened. A shaft that led them swiftly into the Canterlot Caverns. Twilight’s horn lit up, sending fractals of greens and blues and pinks shining through crystal formations as large as her library back home.

At least the cave was wider than the shaft, giving Twilight a little more room to maneuver. As a result, by the time she touched down, it was in slow, controlled circles, just like Rainbow Dash had taught her.

Rarity slipped out of the harness, leaving it hanging a foot above the ground by the thin cable.

“I didn’t know you had so much experience with climbing.”

Rarity chuckled. “Less than I’d like to. But here we are—the first difficulty has been overcome. A greater one remains before us, however.” She gestured, and Twilight saw the vault door.

This was what she’d been expecting, though now that it was before her, she found her imagination had failed to do it justice.

It was made of metal so dark it was black, nearly three stories tall and covered with interlocking wheels, gears, and mechanisms. This was no creation of a modern tinkerer—an ancient master of the craft had built this, from materials so perfect that she couldn’t have slipped a knife between the gears.

The door was set into a single, flawless white crystal that towered over their heads, breaking twilight’s lavender glow into a thousand shades. Stars and stones, that’s a diamond.

“They really didn’t want anypony getting in,” Twilight said, her voice weak. “No guards down here, so that’s good. I guess they must not come here often.”

“Nope,” Rarity agreed. “This is where Regolith keeps his oldest, most valuable objects.”

“R-Regolith?” Twilight repeated. “As in… Nightmare Moon’s vizier? He’s… a-alive?”

“You say alive,” Rarity said, her voice scornful. “We’ll say he’s still active and that’s certainly true. Alive… not so much. Regolith was already old in those days. Stories don’t quite agree whether he studied under Starswirl or taught him, and he isn’t telling. One thing we do know—Nightmare Moon’s other closest generals and servants died in the rebellion or were killed afterwards. It was thought that the curse she brought to the world had been destroyed as well. But… Regolith was clever, and subtle, and he never put himself in danger.”

Twilight began to walk slowly around the front of the vault, lighting up her horn a little brighter. Her first instinct whenever she saw a locked door was just to teleport around it—but something told her a two-thousand-year-old master sorcerer had considered that option. If one in every three ponies might just get in whenever they want, it wouldn’t be a very good safe.

“So he survived, shared his gift with ponies who had something to offer him. Then they shared it with ponies under them, and… well, eventually my sister.”

Twilight nodded gravely, not taking her eyes from the door. As fascinating as the ancient mysteries of Equestria’s past were, she now had something even more interesting. A puzzle.

“You planned on getting into this thing…” she said. “I’m assuming you knew how. Did you steal the key?”

“No key,” Rarity answered. “See, no keyhole. It’s a puzzle lock of some kind. I have it on witness account that Regolith himself is the only pony who ever opens it. He often travels here without clothing or supplies, yet he enters the vault. The key must be something more esoteric.” She sat back on her haunches, removing a sheet of paper from her bag. Twilight glanced and saw it was an image of this very door, though grainy and looking like it was really the photo of a photo of a photo several layers deep.

“Perhaps your presence here can be of assistance,” Rarity went on, almost casually. “You’re one of the cleverest ponies I know, Twilight. Fresh eyes and all that.”

Twilight walked over, levitating the photo and holding it up so she could look between it and the door and back again. Rarity had scribbled notes in the margins describing her ideas about how to open it, but Twilight ignored them completely.

This might be the lock of an ancient vampire built deep into the mountains, but a puzzle was a puzzle.

After a few minutes, she sat up, pointing suddenly. “It’s these wheels, here. These four. The carvings worked into them represent the seasons. But the areas around each… that’s a lily next to the winter gear, that doesn’t make sense.” She pushed gently with her magic, and found the gear gave easily under her pressure, like it had been well greased and prepared to move. When it reached the barren tree without any leaves, it sunk in an inch or so with a satisfying click.

“Be careful, dear.” While Twilight had been working, Rarity had drawn and armed her crossbow again, and now held it at the ready, looking out into the gloom around the vault door. So far as Twilight could see, there was nothing out there—nothing yet. “This lock is so heavily enchanted that I can’t make sense of the spells. It’s old and powerful and probably not made by a pony who was terribly concerned with what happened to thieves.”

Twilight nodded, settling the other three locks into place in order. After winter came spring, then summer, and finally fall. Each rotated around until it sunk down an inch or so—and the mechanism expanded like a flower. Behind thin metal sheets were more dials and levers.

She probably wouldn’t have been able to open it, except for the notes Rarity had scribbled onto her photograph. They weren’t actually Rarity’s speculations—they were clues she’d gathered.

Twilight skimmed them quickly, glancing back and forth between the real object and the image. The lock had been assembled by a master clockmaker in the third century, and apparently he had belonged to a particular religious sect. He hadn’t used an arbitrary combination, but had chosen each aspect of the lock with purpose. This door wasn’t meant for storing valuables, opening it was supposed to be a religious experience, a ritual.

Twilight had studied the Foundationalists. With each step further she got in the process, she grew more confident.

“I can’t believe it,” Rarity whispered. “I was half expecting we would have to break it down. I’m told a single mistake will reset the entire lock.”

Twilight was chewing on a quill. She wasn’t even sure where it had come from. “It would,” she said, rotating her hoof slightly to the rest on the section of the latest part of the lock—which corresponded to the progression of the equinoxes and the movement of constellations through the sky. “And it’s timed, don’t interrupt me.”

“Forgive me.” Rarity sat back. “You’re clearly enjoying this. I’ll leave you to work.”

Twilight barely even felt time passing. Each movement of her hooves, each twist of a dial or a lever felt like the clockmaker was talking to her, out of the ancient recesses of time. Whether it took hours or only seconds, she couldn’t have said.

But then she finished. There was a reverberating click, and a series of chimes that shook the entire crystal like a gong.

“Damn,” Rarity swore, backing up from where she had been watching the ceiling. “That… wasn’t exactly a subtle failure, was it—”

“Not a failure.” The door didn’t swing open so much as it lensed open like an iris right in the center, just barely wide enough for an alicorn to squeeze through. Rarity wouldn’t have as much of a problem, though she would have to climb up to it somehow.

“Oh.” Rarity’s expression relaxed. “In that case I only wish it could publish our success a little less widely. I’m guessing ponies will be listening for that.”

Twilight could hear something—from out in the caverns all around them. Their cave was a massive room, cleared of even fallen rocks and debris—but there were many openings, cracks in the crystal walls into other caverns. And from those openings, she could hear ponies moving. Voices maybe, or a growling that was like voices.

“We should move,” Rarity said. They did. Twilight winced as she went through the opening, twisting her head so that her horn wouldn’t scrape along the ceiling. She sucked in as much as she could, then struggled through the gap.

There was no drop on the other side—she slid along a crystal floor lit by the diffuse light streaming in from all sides.

Here was the treasure room she’d imagined—there were fewer objects than she’d expected, perhaps half a dozen in all. Each one had its own velvet pedestal—an intricate metal puzzle box, a strange flat object with black material on one side and perfect glass on the other. An old cup.

The space itself wasn’t large—there was barely enough room in the crystal for her to crawl, and even Rarity had to move cautiously. The diamond all around them made it clear they would not be cutting their way out, and didn’t look like it would so much as budge from Twilight’s most powerful spells.

They rounded a corner, and Rarity stopped dead, gasping.

“What a predictable pleasure to see you here this evening, Lady Rarity,” said a voice. It wasn’t one Twilight had ever heard before—male, deep and resonant, yet strangely flavored with complex shades of emotion that made it difficult to classify. It wasn’t quite anger, or amusement, or even frustration.

Rarity made room for her, and Twilight saw no reason to turn around.

Through a little doorway was something like a magical researcher’s laboratory, with every tool and every object a perfectly worked artistic masterpiece. An alembic resting over a heating crystal had flames carved into the side so realistic that Twilight could almost see them sparkle. Even the table was encrusted with gems, and the titles visible poking out of the bookshelf would each have fetched the price of a house in Canterlot’s downtown with bits to spare for a carriage to go with it.

“Regolith,” Twilight said.

Chapter 2.4: Blood

The pony sitting at the desk set down his quill in deep red magic, turning to look at them. He was—Twilight almost couldn’t look away.

Twilight Sparkle had met plenty of attractive stallions since visiting Ponyville—Applejack’s older brother was built like a house, and could actually pull one if he wanted to. But so many of the Ponyville locals were like that—rugged, unrefined, raw. This Regolith was an entirely different kind of attractive. In his bright red eyes, Twilight saw a depth of understanding she’d never imagined. In his laboratory there was evidence of an intellectual equal she had never yet encountered.

Rarity kicked her, and the spell was broken. The pony was still lean and brilliant and perfect—but there was something subtly wrong here too. Like hay that had been left in the sun just a little too long.

He didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, Lady… oh.” His eyes settled on her wings. “Oh lord, I’m sorry. Alicorn. You care about this that much, Lady Rarity? You’ll demand your friend burn her life away, so she could open my lock?”

Rarity shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We opened your door.” Though from the sound of her voice, Twilight could tell she hadn’t been expecting to find him in here. She also wasn’t aiming the crossbow at him, as she had with the vampires from before. There’s no way he wouldn’t catch the bolt out of the air. Just how powerful can a unicorn get after all these years?

“We can’t fight this pony,” Rarity whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s older than Canterlot. Older than Celestia, even.”

“Surely your friend doesn’t need to be informed of this.” The pony rose, approaching slowly. His movements were as a smooth as a river of fresh blood. “Ponies are polite creatures. Dignified. Ordered. This is what sets us apart from the other creatures of Equus. They are mastered by their environment, we master it in turn.”

He stopped before her—taller than Twilight, despite being an alicorn. He wouldn’t have been taller than Celestia at least. Small comfort.

But despite what Rarity said, Twilight followed her eyes. She kept glancing at a glass case against the wall, under a spotlight gem. There was a tiny object resting on a velvety pillow. A little gold box.

“We’re here to make a deal,” Twilight said, her wings shuffling uneasily.

“W-we are?” Rarity’s eyes went up, and she turned to glare icicles at Twilight. “I don’t remember that part of our conversation.”

“A second time she impresses me,” Regolith said, his eyes lingering on Twilight far longer than was comfortable. She could see sharp fangs emerging from his lips. Rather than looking at her hips, or any of her other qualities—he was watching her neck. “An arrangement is a sensible way to order our world. Those who have give to those who do not have. Something of equal value must be offered in exchange. Tell me then, lady. What is worth so much to you that you would forfeit your life to come here?”

Rarity’s glare was all Twilight needed to know that she wasn’t supposed to answer. But Rarity’s plan was going to get her killed. Twilight could see the tension in this stallion’s muscles, and feel the power radiating from him. It reminded her a little of Luna, an enveloping darkness that stretched into voids unknown and unseen. But where Princess Luna made her feel the comfort of privacy and a good night’s rest, this pony provoked only dread. It was as though unseen creatures lurked around every corner, ready to pounce.

He was a predator, perhaps the oldest predator alive. Instead of breaking into his cache, they’d stumbled directly into the den.

“That,” Twilight said, pointing at the case. From the tension in Regolith’s body, she could tell that wasn’t what she was supposed to say. “N-not… not to change the world! But just for one. We want to cure one pony. That’s all.”

Regolith glared at them a moment longer. He stopped inches away from Twilight, his breath the sage and oil of an ancient tomb.

Then he looked away. “Lady Rarity—you have done my house no dishonor before today. I imagine the princess of the moon is… pleased, with your service. Is this not so?”

“It is,” Rarity said, stiffening. She didn’t retreat from him, even as he gazed down at her as he had done to Twilight. There was no distinction between what part of that hunger was predatory, and what kind might be… returned.

Celestia help me if he can sense that. Please don’t sense that. Twilight really needed to get out more.

“My friend is… new at this. She should not be here. You must forgive her for… everything.”

Then he laughed. Regolith retreated a few steps, walking straight over to the case. “You don’t know what this is, do you? You think I’ve been hoarding the secret to mortality restored, all this time? That Princess Celestia would not have heard?”

He didn’t give them a chance to answer. The glass slid open, and he removed the tiny gold box from inside, hurrying over with it in his magic.

“She may’ve been so absolute once, but the Imperatrix Solis has become a more practical ruler since her sister. She understands that eradicating darkness is an impossible standard. There can be… understanding. When deer live wild in the forest, they grow out of control—they devour the supply of young plants, and will strip the forest bare in time. Unless there are predators there. We make every member of the herd run quicker. We cull the weak and sickly before they devour resources better suited to those who contribute. If you think the same isn’t true for Equestria, you’re mistaken. Strength is not given, it is earned. Through pain, fear, and suffering.”

There is no way Princess Celestia lets you kill ponies to make the population stronger. Twilight almost spat that at him—there was some part of her that wanted to attack him right there. She resisted. “That isn’t the cure?”

“No,” Regolith answered. “Though it is an essential part of it.” He opened the box, lifting a tiny object from inside. A syringe, worked from pure gold, with a tiny glass window in the side. To Twilight’s shock, he lifted it straight to his neck, then pulled on the plunger until it was full. His blood was not red, but as black as ink, with little chunks floating within. He offered both—the box, and the syringe—to Rarity.

“W-what…”

“At a loss for words.” He smiled at them both. “We have needed this treatment so rarely that none is available for you. But the method is known—I’ll even share it with you. It’s on the lid of the box there, the underside.”

Twilight leaned to one side, lifting the lid all the way out and reading.

“To heal the ravaged soul the blood must find—a black root of Moly, powdered fine. Combine with mountain copper, deep below, until the ice has stopped its flow. What was destroyed by darkness is restored by the first touch of dawn.”

Of course it would be some stupid riddle, Twilight thought. Yet she’d just been allowed to read it. She felt dread, sudden and overwhelming. Did this mean—did this creature not intend to let them leave?

“It is not wise to feel such fear around a… predator,” Regolith said, his eyes as sharp as knives. “Calm yourself, new alicorn. Your blood has more life in it than any I have tasted in many years. It would be a… disservice for me to harm you. Celestia might never forgive me.”

“I don’t understand,” Rarity said, ignoring the exchange. This was her world, and there was no fear in her voice. “Why are you giving this to us?”

“Because the most valuable ingredient cannot be stolen.” He nodded to the vial. “No other’s blood will do, Lady Rarity. That is why Princess Celestia will never harm me. If I die, then so dies the hope for every pony… like me. I am the last of the four originators to survive. Stygian was lost before the war, Sombra devoured by the mist, Gaea Everfree fell in the Griffon Crusade. That leaves me.”

“She knows?” Rarity asked. “She knows about the—”

“She discovered it,” Regolith said, grinning as though this were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “And now perhaps you understand the terms of our arrangement. I must share under… certain conditions. But I must be paid.” His eyes narrowed. “This is an exchange, dear ladies. I expect to be given my due.”

He turned away, hurrying over to a shelf and lifting his pen again. He scribbled something on the sheet, then folded it, sealed with a wax stamp.

He returned a moment later, offering it to Twilight. “This is for you—no, Lady Rarity, that wouldn’t be polite for you to take it. You didn’t offer the exchange, your friend did. Inside is a name. A member of my court, to whom I have come to owe a debt. You will repay that debt on my behalf, whatever its nature. Who you choose to involve and how you choose to accomplish this task is yours to decide. But if you fail…” His eyes settled on Rarity. “I know who that vial is for.”

He sat back, and an icy silence settled in the room. He spoke no overt threats—no gruesome warnings. Just a simple statement of fact.

“We understand,” Rarity said, settling the vial back into the gold box and lowering it carefully into her case. “I assume… we will be permitted to leave here. The terms of our arrangement now concluded?”

“Indeed,” Regolith said, the wide, predator smile on his face. “And Princess Twilight, word of advice. We may be colleagues for many years to come. I suggest greater discretion in the future. I may be forgiving—but many of the other noble and great ones are not. Even I would have had… harsh words to speak with you… if you had damaged my door. But I can see you didn’t, and so you yourselves may leave just as intact. Good evening.”

And that was it. A polite nod, and he had returned to his work, barely even looking at them.

He doesn’t think there’s a thing we can do to hurt him. Twilight’s eyes lingered a moment more, and any of the otherworldly attraction she had briefly felt faded. Now she felt only disgust, wondering just how many lives this monster had taken.

But it would not be taking theirs tonight.

But one day I might take yours, Regolith. I was ignorant this time, unprepared. See how helpless I am next time. Twilight was an Alicorn, even if a new one. You know what would be even better than killing you? Finding a cure that doesn't need your blood. See if I don't.

But Sweetie Belle would have to come first.

The outside of Regolith’s vault was unchanged from their last visit, with one exception. It was not in an army of waiting soldiers—those had apparently been called off, though by some magic or a simple order given while they weren’t looking, it was hard to say.

No—the strange thing was Applejack standing there, staring at the vault door as though she’d just seen a ghost.

Rarity gasped as she saw her, tumbling rather ungracefully from the doorway onto the cavern floor with a squeak of shock. “Sweet Celestia!” She rose quickly, adjusting the case beside her—it alone had remained perfectly balanced in the air beside her. “A-Applejack dear…” She looked up at Twilight, who was still crawling through the opening herself.

Twilight landed on the ground beside her a second later, a little calmer—if only because she’d got a good look at Applejack in advance.

Curiously, the farmpony seemed to be watching her with almost the same expression as Rarity, as though she thought she was guilty of something but didn’t want to verbally ask for confirmation. That’s right, I didn’t tell you about Rarity. Probably a good thing. Maybe Applejack would’ve been forced to stop her if she knew. Or maybe she would’ve tried to convince her not to save their friend.

“What are you doing here, darling?” She glanced around fearfully—but didn’t seem nearly as on-edge as she had been with Twilight. We’ve been promised a safe trip out. Something tells me the vampire will honor it.

“I, uh… I came expectin’ something,” she said. “Somethin’ I wasn’t looking forward to.” Her eyes settled on Twilight again, and for once Twilight couldn’t read her expression. Whether incredible relief or fear for what might happen, Twilight couldn’t tell. “It didn’t happen, though.”

“O-oh. That’s rather… cryptic.” Rarity glanced to one side. “Twilight, I know you ended up in a well yesterday. But I wonder if perhaps you might, uh… return us to Ponyville? You wouldn’t mind the ride, would you Applejack?”

“Nope.” She stepped closer, brushing the grave-dirt from her hooves. “Not one lick.”

“Sure.” Twilight glanced one last time at the vault door as it closed, intricate gears emerging from their slots. An incredibly complex flower of machinery closed again, as though waiting for the next adventurer to visit. “Trip back. I won’t even put us in the well this time.” She settled the envelope close to her, making sure it was within reach.

Then they teleported. Twilight had hours to recover since her last magical fight—compared to all that, this was simple. She didn’t put them in the well, but in the basement of the Golden Oaks, where she’d inscribed a circle of runes in steel and hidden it under the floorboards.

There was a pop and a flash, and suddenly the three of them were standing beside the reference section.

“We’ll speak of this again later,” Rarity said to Twilight, with a tone of exasperated politeness. “I suspect I’ll need your help with… preparations.”

She didn’t wait, and ignored Applejack’s questioning looks. “I’m going to check on my sister. I trust you’ll bear her in mind.” She glanced once at the letter. Then she left, the door banging behind her.

For a few seconds there was silence, other than the sound of tired moaning and claws shuffling on the ceiling above them. Spike was probably not expecting them to reappear in the middle of the night.

“You knew,” Applejack said, as soon as Rarity had walked away.

Twilight nodded.

Applejack blinked, wiping away tears with the edge of one leg. She sniffed, clearing her throat. “You… you did a good thing, Twi. One of the best things a friend has ever done for me.” She turned, lowering her hat far enough that it covered her face. “Don’t know how you did it—but I don’t wanna know.”

“Sure.” Twilight wiped away a little moisture of her own. Relief washed over her. The weight of the slip of paper in her magic might’ve felt like lead, but at least she’d done one good thing tonight.

Applejack cleared her throat. “Be careful… with what you did. Don’t get in a habit of angerin’ fate.”

“What good is being a princess if I can’t use it to help my friends?”

Applejack chuckled. “Don’t know. Reckon I shouldn’t be tellin’ you what to do.” She turned away. “Take care, Twi. See ya tomorrow.” She left.

Left twilight alone with the sheet of paper, and its intricate seal. Twilight walked over to the single candle burning near the window, studying the seal.

It was red wax, because of course it would be. A tree was depicted there, encircled by a massive snake. She cut the seal, then flipped the sheet open under candlelight. Well, here we go. I have to do the dark bidding of some vampire, or Sweetie Belle dies. Please don’t make me do anything too evil.

Regolith hadn’t written anything, he’d drawn a cutie mark. She need not have worried that she didn’t recognize it.

Three pink butterflies.

Chapter 3.1: Favor

Dear Princess Celestia,

I know I’ve never written about bits before—

Something startled Twilight from her writing, and she jerked suddenly into a sitting position. It was Spike, standing in the doorway.

“We, uh…” He slipped through the door into Twilight’s office. “Rarity’s here to see you.”

“Let her in.” Twilight had already put away Regolith’s note—she wanted to burn it, but didn’t know if that might have some other consequence she didn’t know about.

Rarity was wearing a dignified jacket and hat, nothing at all to set her apart from the way other ponies around might dress. “Do you mind if I have a private word with Twilight, dear? I would be incredibly grateful.”

“Anything for you, Rarity,” Spike muttered. Then the door shut in his face.

Rarity reached into her jacket, removing a sheet of oversized paper from inside. It looked like the sort she kept around her studio, where patterns were sketched. Only this one had Rarity’s dense writing on the surface, located in a single tiny square.

It was a transcription of the box lid, captured perfectly:

To heal the ravaged soul the blood must find—a black root of Moly, powdered fine. Combine with mountain copper, deep below, until the ice has stopped its flow. What was destroyed by darkness is restored by the first touch of dawn.

“You shouldn’t have been there, Twilight.”

“I know.” But she couldn’t muster the effort to pretend she felt guilty about it, not after the confirmation she got from Applejack. Twilight had saved Rarity’s life. Nothing else mattered.

“It makes this part simple. I don’t have to invent some plausible reason why we need to create this potion.” She tapped the sheet with one hoof. “Blood we have. The other ingredients… not so much.”

“I recognize them,” Twilight said. “Moly is an herb—though most scholars agree it doesn’t exist. Black roots underground, white flowers above. Supposedly it kills anyone who tries to pick it.”

“Mysterious, deadly, extinct plant,” Rarity muttered. “Black roots, white flowers. I’ll see what I can find. How about a division of labor? I’ll take care of the herb. The other one sounded more… esoteric. Mountain copper?”

“Easy.” Twilight smiled in spite of herself. She’d memorized the riddle the instant she saw it—she didn’t need a transcription. Twilight gestured towards one of the oldest, least-checked-out books in her library, sitting on the desk beside her. It only had a single stamp.

“Unknown and Impossible Locales of Equestria, An Illustrated Guide to Pre-Celestian Mythology.” Rarity’s eyebrows went up. “Mountain copper is in there?”

“Yep. It’s the stuff Kumari was made from. The… home of the unicorn sorcerers who moved the sun before Celestia?” She flipped the book open with her magic, to the bookmarked page. “Its proper name was Orichalcum—deep red metal, stronger than anything we can forge today.”

“But… Kumari sunk into the ocean, didn’t it? Frozen over by the glaciers of the Windigos.”

Twilight nodded. “Apparently there’s some truth to that story, given the rest of the riddle. I’m guessing there’s some kind of… chemical reaction involved, which needs to be cooled by icy water.”

Rarity sighed. “Twilight, do you… think there’s any reason we ought to trust to those old stories? Have you verified their sources?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You think Regolith lied? This potion isn’t real?”

“Vampires can lie. I’m not sure why he would, rather than just killing both of us. But there’s nothing stopping him.”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s not just this. I really went to the Underworld, Rarity. I wasn’t saying that to try and calm you down. I swear it was real. I could take you to the entrance right now… but I shouldn’t. It won’t help with this. Besides… I need to talk to that vampire. Find out what they want.”

“Nothing good,” Rarity said. “Never anything good. If they’re in Regolith’s court, they’re certainly registered with the Crown. But don’t let that convince you they wouldn’t do terrible things. They don’t see the world the way ordinary ponies do. They’re not afraid of violence, and the rules that govern their behavior are… old. They’re almost always much older than they look, and dangerously skilled.”

“I’m not fighting them,” Twilight exclaimed. “Just… repaying a debt. Incurred by… a vampire. Piece of cake.”

Rarity laughed, but there was no humor in it. Twilight understood why—it wasn’t her life that was most in danger if Twilight failed. It was Sweetie Belle’s “You aren’t going to bring Spike along, are you?”

“I… I don’t know if I have a choice. I keep promising I’ll take him with me, next place I go. But—”

Rarity stuck out a hoof. “Let me worry about it, dear. Sweetie Belle and I want you to be at your best for whatever mission Regolith had in mind for you. I’m sure I can distract your assistant for an afternoon. Somepony recently bought my centerpiece. I’ll have to put together something equally beautiful.”

Twilight winced. She’d left that centerpiece hanging on an oversized mixer in a donut shop. Thousands and thousands of bits, gone in an instant. “Right. Sorry about that, Rarity. I wish last night could’ve gone… smoother.”

“So do I, darling. So do I.”

Twilight Sparkle wished she had Rarity’s experience and gear to prepare for a mission like this. Her friend had obviously been working in her field for long enough that she knew what to do—knew the perfect mix of tools and magic to make the mission as easy as possible.

But Twilight had no armor sewn into fashionable outfits. She had no compact tools and weapons that could all be packed away in a single slim case. Just her horn, a mostly-empty set of saddlebags, and her curiosity.

Fluttershy was a vampire, powerful and important enough that perhaps the most dangerous creature Twilight had ever met had owed her a favor. I don’t know anyone. First Applejack is an immortal servant of Death. Rarity hunts vampires, and Fluttershy is one. How much of this did you know, Celestia?

And there was another dread, one she didn’t even want to think about.

Fluttershy’s cabin ought to have taken on some new, ominous caste. But there was no lightning flashing above it, or stench of old blood. There was the house, and the little paddock for her animal friends, and the forest never far away. A charming little house for a charming little pony who preferred her solitude.

Twilight usually brought some pretense when she visited her friend—a snack, or some new book about animals, or a question about dragon care she didn’t really need answered. But today she hadn’t bothered. There would be no disguising this mission.

I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised after last night. Regolith had a magical draw that made him hard to look away from. Fluttershy did the same thing when Rarity made her a model. That wasn’t exactly the only instance that stood out in Twilight’s mind, but it was one of the most interesting. And the stare.

She can’t be one of the ancient ones. Rainbow Dash knew her when they were younger.

Twilight reached the door. She sniffed, searching for something strange—but there was just the usual mix of animal musk. She might’ve been terrified of that heady mix of predator scents, years ago. But Fluttershy’s friends were gentle, friendly creatures. So far as Twilight knew, none of them had ever attacked anypony.

She knocked. There was some rustling around from inside, and Fluttershy’s head emerged through a thin crack in the door. “T-Twilight? You aren’t the, uh… sorry.” The door clicked closed. Fluttershy’s voice continued through the wood, muffled. “You, umm… maybe could you come back tomorrow? I’m… kinda expecting somepony today, and I don’t know if they’d be comfortable with somepony else around. If you, uh… wouldn’t mind.”

It was exactly the sort of excuse Twilight had heard from her friend a hundred times before. Only this time, she knew what it meant.

“I don’t have to come in,” Twilight said, though she didn’t mean it. “I just want to show you something. If you could just open the door a crack, I can be out of your mane.”

“Uh… sure, Twilight. I guess I can do that.” The door opened again, and Fluttershy poked her head out. Now that Twilight was trying to look, she could see every window in the cabin had been curtained off. Without the door it would’ve been pitch black in there. Beyond all but a batpony’s vision. “What is it?”

Twilight opened her saddlebag, and levitated the letter out so Fluttershy could see the wax seal. “I think I’m the pony you’re expecting.”

What happened next was over so fast Twilight couldn’t even react. The door banged open all the way, with enough force to leave a dent in the wood. Fluttershy reached out, wrapping one leg around Twilight and yanking her backward.

It was every bit as forceful as an earth pony’s attack, such an abrupt backward pressure that she fell over sideways, sliding with a yelp along Fluttershy’s floor.

The door snapped closed with a loud bang, and Twilight’s guess about the light was confirmed. She was suddenly blind, laying sprawled on the wood floor of Fluttershy’s cabin, with animal smells all around her and her friend somewhere in the gloom.

“I was very clear with Regolith,” Fluttershy said, her voice every bit as forceful as Twilight had ever heard it. “Nopony was to impersonate my friends, or manipulate them in any way. They’re off-limits. Whoever you are, I want to hear your good reason. Unless you want to meet my other friends.”

Twilight lit up her horn in a single, blinding flash of white light, as bright as she could summon. She rose to her hooves in a single, quick motion, spreading her legs a little so she couldn’t be swept off them so easily next time. A fighting stance, though she didn’t know how to fight. “It’s me, Fluttershy. I’m an Alicorn, and I’m really not in the mood to have the runaround for the third day in a row.” She kept her horn glowing, though she knew she wouldn’t be able to use any of her magic against Fluttershy if it came to that.

Twilight could do many things—survive the Underworld, fight vampires on a train, reason with an ancient monster. Attacking Fluttershy was just not on the list.

There was no mistaking Fluttershy’s bared fangs, or the animalistic hiss as she retreated from the light. That flash brought growls from all around, as though dozens of Fluttershy’s animal friends were lurking unseen.

“You can’t be,” Fluttershy said. “Twilight doesn’t know about this. She’s better off that way… without knowing about me.”

“I found out,” Twilight said. “Thanks to this.” She held up the letter again, opening it so the cutie mark drawing inside would be visible. “I got involved in…” She realized suddenly that she wasn’t sure how much of Rarity’s secret she should share. The unicorn hadn’t said anything about it—but Twilight had only got her and her sister into danger by speaking up about them so far.

“I think I may’ve gotten in a little over my head.” Her ears flattened, and she looked down. “But it doesn’t matter how it happened. I owe Regolith, and apparently he owes you? So here I am, to settle things for him. That way he doesn’t hurt anypony.”

“But…” Fluttershy stared down at the letter, eyes studying the seal. “You shouldn’t—you can’t—”

“I’m a princess now,” Twilight said, her voice weak. “I’ve learned a lot of things I didn’t know about. Been places that shouldn’t be real, fought things that…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I’m not the one you expected, Fluttershy. But I’m the one Regolith sent to repay his debt. Tell me what I have to do.”

Fluttershy turned away, ignoring Twilight’s stare of anger and frustration. “You can’t help me, Twilight. I don’t know what you think you know, but it isn’t enough. This is too dangerous for you. You should go home and forget we ever had this conversation.”

“Too dangerous for me? Fluttershy, I’m an Alicorn now. I fought Nightmare Moon—I went to the Underworld and spoke with Death. We stopped Discord. And…” She hesitated. “You know about Sweetie Belle?”

Fluttershy didn’t answer at first, but Twilight saw her tense in recognition. Fluttershy had never been a good flier, and that also meant she hadn’t trained her wings. They betrayed her now as they always had. “I know.”

“Regolith is going to kill her,” Twilight said. “If I don’t pay his debt. Those are the stakes.”

Fluttershy spun around, eyes widening with shock and pain. She might be undead—Twilight wasn’t sure about that yet. But she was no monster. “You can’t help me,” Fluttershy pleaded, her voice desperate and pained. “Nothing living can go where we need to travel. That’s why I wanted a court Vanguard. A pony who wasn’t vulnerable.”

“Oh, is that it?” Twilight laughed. “I’m pretty sure I can’t die.”

Author's Notes:

As a quick update, I've finished writing the two chapters following this, they're just waiting for editing. Anyone who has seen my publishing schedule knows my editors are pretty busy, so it won't be tomorrow.

But I'm going to make a formal commitment to release a chapter a month until this story is complete. That's right, it has a formal update deadline! Expect it on the 3rd or 4th Friday of next month, and every month following until the story is done.

When I joined fimfiction I made a commitment to myself to finish every story I started. I intend to keep that commitment.

Chapter 3.2: Nightmare

Fluttershy didn’t take her far—just to one of her comfortable sofas. She pushed the weighty oak like she was an earth pony, yanking the rug, then yanked on a latch. Square stone stairs sunk into the ground, stretching down exactly fifty meters before they turned sharply upon themselves and went another fifty meters down.

There was no light here, and Twilight lit her horn to a pale lavender glow as Fluttershy pulled the hatch closed above them, then passed her as a blur in the darkness. How many secret holes in the ground does Equestria have? First the portal to the Underworld, then Regolith’s secret vault. What next?

Fortunately this place didn’t take them down much further. A single large space stretched out around them, built in the style of Equestria’s most ancient ruins. Twilight recognized the style of the decorations—these had been carved in the ancient days of Equestria, when the land’s name was new, and Luna still ruled beside her sister. The building reminded her of a temple of sorts, with a row of central columns leading past rusting metal shapes that had probably been braziers once.

At the end of the hall was a carved Alicorn, with the stars in her mane. “I know this style…” Twilight began. “This place… looks like it could be in the Castle of the Two Sisters.”

“It was close, once,” Fluttershy said. “I had it buried, after… after.”

The Alicorn wasn’t Luna. As they got close, Twilight recognized with horror that she had met this pony before. Nightmare Moon towered over her at twice her true size, carved from a single slab of black granite. A little altar rested at her hooves, and dry herbs burned there.

Behind the altar was… an armory. It too looked like something that could’ve been built in the ancient castle, single stubs of metal to hold up thin metal suits with swords and shields hanging beside.

“You had it buried?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Fluttershy, these pieces aren’t fitting. Rainbow Dash knew you growing up, didn’t she? Your cutie mark story…”

Fluttershy laughed, her voice distant and pained. It sounded like Regolith. “Rainbow’s not from Cloudsdale either, Twilight. We agree to tell the parts of the story that make sense, to spare everypony the… ones that don’t.” She swallowed, then kicked over one of the dummies so that the ancient armor fell at Twilight’s hooves. A sword fell sideways off its hook, taking a sizeable chunk of rock with it.

“What is—”

Fluttershy was suddenly an inch from her neck, teeth bared. “You want to help? Well, here is where we see if you can. Nightmare’s Daughters might be gone, but our temple is still here. I need to see if being an Alicorn will let you fight. Otherwise…” She shook her head. “There are worse things than death. Death is often a mercy—for sickly creatures, old ones, death is a relief as they pass from our world into the next. But if you fail where we’re going… you won’t ever get to die. Whatever you’re imagining right now, it isn’t awful enough. Worse. No, worse than that.”

Twilight swallowed, levitating the armor off the dummy in front of her. “What are we doing, Fluttershy? Why would we need this?” She had so many other questions—and if she was careful in how she asked, she might get those answered too. But for now, this was the most important of them all. It wouldn’t do her any good to understand how Fluttershy had become a vampire if she got herself killed by some other monster she barely knew about.

“How much do you know about—wait, don’t bother. You don’t know.” Fluttershy sat down on her haunches, staring up at the statue in front of them. “Princess Celestia doesn’t like her ponies knowing about anything that’s really dangerous. A decade ago her guards didn’t even carry weapons.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Twilight said. “You’re a vampire, right? Regolith said you were in his court. What was the favor you wanted?”

“A Vanguard from the court,” Fluttershy answered. “To keep the Eternals away from Equestria for a little longer. That’s what Nightmare’s Daughters were made for. My… my sisters are all gone now. Each of them died doing… the mission she gave us. I’m the only one left.” She nodded slightly towards the armor. “That belonged to Gusty. She’d be happy to see someone else was wearing it. Put it on.”

Twilight did. She wasn’t wearing anything else, so it didn’t take long. Though she’d taken it for ancient guardsman armor in Luna’s colors, just a few seconds putting it on was enough to see she’d been wrong. It was a set of scale-mail, but not scales of steel. They were dull silver under the exterior paint, and though they were light against Twilight’s body, they were utterly inflexible when she pushed on them. “M-mithril?” she stammered, settling the breastplate over the scales and cinching the straps. Thanks for all those trips to Renfaire, Shining. I’d really look like an idiot right now without you. “You have more here than… than Celestia’s school does. How many catalytic reaction tubes could you make with—”

“No!” Fluttershy was beside her again, roaring so loud that the whole tunnel seemed to shake. Was Twilight imagining things, or had the statue’s eyes flashed down at her. “No.” Fluttershy’s anger hadn’t faded. “This place is sacred, Twilight. It must be ready for… the next sister who joins the hunt. One day I’ll die, and my armor will go up with the others. And it will stay there, until someone is ready to put it on for the right reason.”

And just like that, Fluttershy was wearing her armor. How’d she do that so fast? There was even a helmet, with a moveable visor that slid into place and covered all but her eyes.

“What is an Eternal?” Twilight asked. “See, I went hunting with—” She stopped, swallowing. “I went hunting last night and I didn’t learn vampires existed until one almost killed me. How about you tell me about the Eternals while we’re still somewhere safe.”

“Sure.” Fluttershy reached around her foreleg, and started dragging Twilight across the floor. The effort seemed to cost her nothing—she didn’t even sweat or breathe heavily as she did it, as Applejack might’ve.

How have I not noticed your strength before? Fluttershy had always seemed the weakest and most fearful of her friends. She could barely fly. How much of that was an act?

Fluttershy stopped in the center of the room, which was covered with the same thick layer of dust as the rest of the temple. But then she flapped her wings, and a brief breeze cleared it.

There was a stylized map of the globe below them, one of the ancient-style ones with the front and back halves of the planet. There was just one problem—there was a lot more land here than there should be.

“That’s Equestria, there. The part in gold. Badlands are below it, Crystal Empire above. Griffin Country across the sea.”

Twilight’s entire world, what she’d always thought was the entire planet—wasn’t even one continent. “What is all this? This land colored black… there’s no land here. You can sail all the way from the east of Griffin Country back around to the west coast of Equestria. This is…” She swallowed, clutching at her head. Why does this hurt so much? Twilight reached up, and felt a little dribble of warm blood trickle out of her nose, splattering on the map.

Fluttershy froze, her eyes snapping back around to Twilight. For a few moments she didn’t move, didn’t breathe—didn’t do anything. “I have to go,” she muttered, backing away. “C-clean that… burn it. Now.” And she was gone, running up the stairs as quickly as Twilight had ever seen her move.

“You have to—” Her eyes widened. Blood. You really are a vampire. Twilight took a deep breath, then cast a simple mending spell on herself. She lifted up all the blood in her magic, walking it back towards the statue. The flame on the little altar at Nightmare Moon’s hooves still burned, though curiously it didn’t seem to illuminate anything. “Burn it, huh?”

Twilight levitated her blood down into the fire. Bright white light sprang from the altar, sparking and roaring like she’d just settled magnesium in with the herbs.

The statue’s head turned to face her, a grin spreading across stone lips. “An Alicorn burns an offering to me,” the statue said, her voice rumbling through the structure. It sounded exactly like she remembered. “Strange to see one of you come to join my family. I can only offer information, child. I cannot extend your life.”

Twilight ignored that, staring up at the ancient stone. It looked almost completely intact, while so much else of this temple had rotted to nothing. “We beat you,” she stammered. “Me, and the Elements of Harmony. Princess Luna is free.”

The statue leered down at her—another expression Twilight remembered well. Oh Celestia, I summoned it somehow. I brought a demon to Equestria and now we’re about to be attacked, and— Nothing happened. No attack, anyway. “Is, was, yet to come. Time surrounds us with the comfortable illusion of causality. You ponies cannot understand—even Luna. You are creatures of your plane, trapped by your three walls. What was, is. What is, will be.”

Twilight glanced towards the stairs, searching for Fluttershy—but the pegasus wasn’t there. There was no sign of her, not even the rustle of wind or light touch of elegant hooves on stone.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Twilight said. I’m not telling you anything, Nightmare Moon. You aren’t going to attack Equestria again because of my mistakes.

“You wouldn’t,” the statue said. “So be it, Alicorn. Ask me your blessing, and become one of my Daughters. Protect the garden for one more day.”

“Protect the…” She frowned to herself, biting one lip. “I don’t want to be anything of yours. You were evil. You tore Equestria in half! Ponies died because of you! Sweetie Belle wouldn’t be a vampire right now if you hadn’t created them in the first place!”

The statue seemed to sit back on her pedestal. Was Twilight imagining things, or was it moving more the longer she watched?

“That is unfortunate, for you are now in my realm and I am not inclined to release you. If I was concerned with the future…” She shook her head. “Ask your boon, and become one of my Daughters. My words will give you sight into the secrets of any mystery not known by mortal or god. I have ridden beside Orion, walked with the enkindler and seen the death of stars. I will share with you what I have. That is why you came, isn’t it?”

If she asked, “how do I escape without joining you,” that might very well be enough. Maybe Nightmare Moon would just say “you can’t” and she’d be no better off than before. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be useful. “I want nothing from you,” she said, turning out her wings. “I ask no blessing. I won’t take any of your gifts.”

The statue leapt down from her pedestal with a loud crack of stone. Twilight wondered how something so large didn’t shatter—but didn’t expect she would be getting an answer. “If what you say is true, and Luna rejects me, then I hope you can be better rulers of this realm than I was. It is a very beautiful place, even if its eyes are always fixed firmly on the dirt and loam. Go with my last Daughter, then. You asked no gift of me—I will give one anyway. I will help you swing your sword. Keep her alive, and I will be grateful. Neither of us wish to lose a friend.”

Chapter 3.3: Hunt

“Twilight, wake up!” Twilight felt something shaking her, something violent and strong. She jerked to one side, pulling away from it—and found her face completely covered with dirt.

She was lying in front of the altar in Fluttershy’s subterranean temple, a bit of her mane singed near the edges. The statue was exactly where she’d left it—the ground wasn’t cracked from it jumping around, and the map was still firmly in place. As though her conversation hadn’t even happened.

Fluttershy was still wearing her armor from before, and apparently Twilight was also. She felt sore at her joints, as though she’d been slumped in that unnatural position for some time. “Ughhh… what happened?”

“I think you may’ve… taken my instructions, umm… a bit too literally,” Fluttershy stammered. “There was some blood, and, umm… I thought the new princess of magic wouldn’t go near the obviously enchanted altar.”

Twilight winced, straightening and brushing off the dirt. It’s okay, it was just a dream. Or a vision, or… something. “You were telling me what we were doing,” she said. “Before all that.”

“Right. So that map is the place ponies call Sideways. Well, when they knew about it. You’ve seen parts of it in the Dreamlands, but it’s so much more than that. You’ve met some of the friendly creatures from there. The Ursa Minor you fought, remember that?”

“I…” She shivered. “I remember. But I didn’t think they came from another world.”

“Because it’s hard for mortals to think of. It shouldn’t exist, and it hurts. Going there would kill you. Uhh… if you could die. Are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” Twilight said. “I’ll be fine. I assume you will be too. I’ve never seen you go crazy on a pony who got a papercut in front of you. And you treat injured animals all the time.”

“Never smelled Alicorn blood before,” Fluttershy admitted, pawing shyly at the ground. “I’ll… I should be fine next time. Just caught me by surprise.” She gestured towards the map. “So, Sideways is its own world… most of it doesn’t care that we’re here. But some of it does, and those creatures are always trying to get into Equestria.”

“And only undead can protect it?” Twilight supplied. “That’s why Nightmare Moon created you?”

“Yeah,” Fluttershy whispered. “To… protect her conquest from her rivals.”

She’s actually answering my questions! Twilight circled around her friend, feeling better about this by the second. She hadn’t run away or deflected even once. “And you’re part of this… old group of hunters. Still doing the job Nightmare Moon gave you.”

“You too, apparently,” Fluttershy glanced back at the statue. “You gave her blood and she didn’t kill you. That would normally mean it was time for your initiation.” She grinned shyly, revealing pointed fangs. “I don’t think you’d be interested in that.”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate. “Why don’t we just… no.” She shook her head, retreating a few steps from Fluttershy. “I’m already working on the cure for Sweetie Belle… I bet we could make two.”

Fluttershy froze, her eyes widening. She tensed, and for a second Twilight couldn’t tell if her friend was going to cry, or attack her.

Then she laughed. “Oh, Twilight! That’s hilarious!” Despite how hilarious she thought the suggestion, her laughter was as subtle and elegant as ever. “You know how old I am, right? A cure would just kill me. Might as well just use the sword if I wanted to do that—no scavenger hunt for you. Sweetie Belle, though… I’m glad somepony’s doing it. No foal should be stuck like this forever.”

There was a long, awkward silence. Twilight glanced briefly down at the map at her hooves—but this time she didn’t feel like its magic was attacking her. Maybe it was just the first time? What good is being an Alicorn if I can’t do anything I couldn’t have done when I was a unicorn?

“I called on my favor from Regolith because there’s something… really big, something I’ve been hunting for a long time. It killed Bright Eyes, last time we fought. And it’s close. If it crosses into Equestria… thousands of ponies will die. It’ll be like Nightmare Moon all over again, but a thousand times worse.”

“Worse?” Twilight turned, glancing back at the statue. “How could it be worse?”

“Because Nightmare Moon was almost a pony,” Fluttershy answered. “She’s from so close to Equestria that she could think like us, dream like us. There aren’t many creatures like that when you go Sideways. And the further you go, the worse they get.”

“A vampire Vanguard would be strong enough for you to beat it?”

“Maybe,” Fluttershy said. “We put out one of its eyes last time. And if it wasn’t, at least the court would be down one of the Vanguard. Equestria would be a little safer before it ended.”

Twilight didn’t laugh. “I guess… we should get going then.” She levitated the sword out from her scabbard, swinging it once through the air in front of her at nothing. It was a strange weight to hold in her magic, one she’d never used before. Yet the swing seemed to come naturally. I should’ve used this technique at the Renfaire. “Hunt, you said? That’s… going to take some getting used to. You seem to love the animals so much. You, killing?”

“I do love the animals,” Fluttershy said. “And I do what’s best for all of them. Lots of the time, that means I can help them get better. Sometimes the kindest thing to do is take the pain away. Forever.”

Fluttershy gestured back at the altar. “You’ve got living blood, so this crossing will be easier than usual. Hold your breath when you put some in the altar, then back up. The smoke would… you don’t want to breathe the smoke again.”

“Right.” Instead of just holding her breath, Twilight formed a tight bubble around her head. “I guess we’ll see how you do with blood again.” She reached out with the sword, extending her leg and making a shallow cut. She held it out, and once again the flames went bright white, filling the air with a cloud of dense green vapor. Twilight retreated out of its reach, casting a healing spell on her leg even as she used the flames to sear away any remaining blood on the sword.

I don’t want to make this hard on you, Fluttershy. The last thing we need is for you to start hunting me.

Fluttershy began speaking, her voice more confident than Twilight had ever heard it. She wasn’t speaking Ponish, or not the Ponish that Twilight had ever learned. Fortunately, her interest in archeology extended to old languages. “Mother, your daughters require your help. Open the garden gate, and we will patrol your conquest one more night.”

The statue didn’t move—but the pillars on the far side of the room seemed to shift, rotating around to the grinding of ancient gears. The ceiling shook, and Twilight prepared a teleport just in case she needed it—but it didn’t collapse.

The space between the pillars suddenly led somewhere else. A portal spell, as Twilight had seen many times before. This one led on top of a stone platform, with a temple on the other side that seemed exactly like this one. There was even the backside of an Alicorn statue.

Fluttershy advanced past Twilight, gesturing for her to follow with one wing. “So, if you were being initiated, you’d have a century of training before you crossed.”

“Great,” Twilight muttered. “I don’t think I have a century. And… since this thing we’re hunting really is a threat to Equestria, you can’t just tell Regolith that I paid you back. We actually have to hunt it.”

“Right.” Fluttershy stopped right in front of the portal. “So, first thing. We only have until sunrise to get back here. Also, this portal stays open until we do. Lots of, uh…” She blushed, staring down at the floor. “Let’s just say I haven’t been collecting bigger and stronger animals because I like scaring ponies. Since I don’t have any sisters left to watch the door, my animal friends have been covering for me. They don’t… always catch everything.”

Twilight shook her head. “I assume what we’re hunting is worse, though. Than… anything that might take advantage.”

Standing right in front of the portal, Twilight had an excellent view of the temple on the other side. It looked like she imagined these ruins had looked in their prime. A row of perfect pillars, a dozen in all, with huge bonfires burning in front of each one. The statue wasn’t just old stone, it had been vibrantly painted. It was a perfect, lifelike recreation of the Alicorn of Nightmares. Rather than underground, this temple seemed to be built on a raised platform, rising above a muddy bog.

“Second thing. Don’t die. That’s, uh… important anywhere. But here… you probably can’t count on Nightmare Moon saving your soul from any of the predators out here, since you aren’t one of us.”

“Pretty sure I can’t anyway,” Twilight said. “But…” She hesitated, one hoof at the edge of the portal. It wasn’t like her body was invincible, she’d just cut herself without any more resistance than usual. And she knew that Celestia and Luna had both lost battles before. So what does that mean? How does being immortal actually work? Maybe she would just wake up in the Underworld, and have to make the trip back to the surface. If so, she might have a hard time finding her way there from outside the world. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Last thing.” Fluttershy turned her head with the force of one hoof, meeting her eyes through the helmet. There was no mistaking the predatory slits there, which she never would’ve noticed in simple daylight. “Don’t give your word lightly when you’re Sideways. It’s probably best to talk to nothing we meet, but… if you have to, at least don’t make promises.”

Twilight groaned. “That’s kinda the mistake I made to end up here in the first place. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s great. It’ll be really great if we come back.” She swallowed, then passed through the portal. It rippled, like the surface of a pond held sideways in the air. But she passed through it. A few seconds later, Twilight followed.

It hurt. Twilight went rigid, as though every muscle were being forced to constrict at once. She twitched and kicked and strained—and it passed.

She walked out of the portal on the other side, her whole body aching like she’d just been attacked. But she was still breathing. I really should’ve asked Celestia what the rules of this immortal thing are.

Twilight stumbled forward a few steps, collapsing and catching her breath. Fluttershy stood just beside her, sword drawn as she scanned the temple grounds. Twilight didn’t see anything else—not for nearly five full minutes.

Eventually she gritted her teeth and rose, biting back the pain. It hadn’t gone, exactly, but her mind was starting to ignore it. It took a little of her concentration, just like a spell might. But she was still moving.

The sky above was filled with stars, more vibrant and beautiful than anything she’d seen in Equestria. She looked up, slack-jawed. There were other objects up there—planets, moons, multicolored comets—all far too close to make sense around Equestria. Surely they would’ve crashed, except none of them did.

She now knew what inspired Luna to do such good work with Equestria’s sky.

The air was icy cold, and each breath fogged out in front of her.

“Done gawking?” Fluttershy asked. “We have a long way to go.”

“Not… that long, I hope,” Twilight said, though her voice was halfhearted. “I didn’t bring camping supplies.”

Fluttershy laughed. “If you knew what it cost to make armor that could cross into this world, you… probably wouldn’t say that.”

I don’t know anything about anything, Twilight thought, glaring at Fluttershy’s retreating back.

There were stairs descending down from one side of the temple, just as there had been stairs rising up from the one in Equestria. And beyond them…

The hunt is waiting.

Chapter 3.4: Oriax

Twilight glided beside Fluttershy down to the level of the bog. Her companion didn’t touch the ground, so she didn’t either, spreading her wings wide and staying above the mud and skeletal trees. She could practically feel the branches reaching up to try and grab her, though so far they hadn’t moved.

“Stay with me!” Fluttershy called from up ahead, speeding up a little. “We don’t have far to go!” Fluttershy tucked her wings and sped up, forcing Twilight to flap desperately to keep up. Fluttershy might not be a strong flyer, but Twilight’s wings were scarcely days old.

She started to droop in the air, and her legs smacked against the trees, shattering fragile branches. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake as before and draw blood, so this time Twilight blasted them out of the way, shattering the old wood with flashes from her horn. “I’m not very good at this!” Twilight shouted, some of her desperation and fear finding its way into her voice. “Could you slow down a little, Fluttershy? I’m not… I haven’t learned how to fly yet!”

Fluttershy did slow, quickly enough that Twilight almost smacked into her. She pushed sideways near Twilight, then lifted her up from below. “It’s not wise to seem in distress,” Fluttershy said, her voice flat. “Not around me, and especially not Sideways. There are creatures who thrive on weakness, and they’re always hungry.”

“Great,” Twilight said, exasperated. “I’m sorry I didn’t master my abilities perfectly after a few days of pure insanity. I didn’t really have time to go flying with Rainbow Dash when I was hunting vampires and getting lost in the Underworld.”

Fluttershy didn’t say anything to that—just helped her down over the edge of the swamp to the first patch of dry ground they’d seen so far. Twilight landed eagerly, practically embracing the soil as she got close to it. But then she saw the dull white lumps sticking out from underneath, and she thought better of it. “Lots of, uhh… lots of death here. You sure this isn’t the same as the Underworld?”

“Sure,” Fluttershy said. “I, uh… I’ve never been there. I don’t think Death would be very happy with a pony like me. And we wouldn’t have much to say to each other, so I probably never will.”

Twilight’s ears perked at a sound from further along. It sounded like distant footsteps, except that each one shook the ground through her hooves. “How many other worlds are there, anyway? Equestria is hard enough to understand with just itself. But now there’s Sideways, and the Underworld, and…”

“Uh…” Fluttershy looked deep in thought for a moment. “Only other one I know about is Faewyld? And… you probably shouldn’t ever go there. You’d probably get tricked into making promises there you couldn’t escape from. Fairies aren’t very nice.”

“Right.” Twilight filed that one away, turning in the direction of the hoof steps. It was coming not from the bog behind them, but the sparse forest ahead. Still the trees were dead, though these had retained a few thin gray leaves and long spines, enough to make passing between them extremely painful to anyone who happened to come this way. “Is that…”

“Oriax,” Fluttershy whispered.

Far away, something roared, loud enough that skeletal birds took flight from the dead trees, shedding rotting feathers in the air behind them as they flew.

“And it knows we’re here. You, uh… kinda stand out. Not really the place for an Alicorn.”

“Of course,” Twilight muttered. “Just like the Underworld. The instant I walk in everything wants to kill me. I’m sure by next week I’ll be in that Faewyld place for no discernible reason, and everything there will be trying to murder me too.”

“We’re here to do the murdering,” Fluttershy said, voice wistful and sad. “But if Oriax makes it to Equestria, many ponies will die. Celestia will… probably figure out a way to stop it eventually. But how many lives are you willing to trade?”

“None,” Twilight answered. “I get it. We have to hunt, so let’s hunt.”

Fluttershy spread her wings. “We’ll… probably have to fly.” The massive, thumping footsteps were getting closer. Bits of canopy sticks and leaves broke away from the nearby trees, and Twilight found it difficult to even stay standing. “It’s big.”

“I got that impression.” Twilight spread her wings again, though she wasn’t sure how much luck she would have using them. She felt the sword at her belt, and drew that too, holding it close in her magic and keeping the blade as far away as possible. “How many spirits like Oriax have you fought before, Fluttershy?”

“Uh…” She hesitated. “One. And we lost.”

“Oh. Perfect.”

Oriax took another step, and suddenly it came into view.

It looked a little like a camel, if a camel had been created by a mad god who had only had the creatures described. It had at least eight limbs, with spines and ridges down its back. A cloud of thick smoke seemed to emerge from behind it, and when it opened its mouth to roar, greenish flames crackled and sizzled out.

It was still so far away, but as tall as a castle, that wouldn’t last long. “That wants to come to Equestria?” Twilight asked, staring up in horror. “It… why?”

“Food,” Fluttershy said. “There’s life there. None here.”

“How do we…” It seemed like a stupid question, but at this point Twilight already felt like an idiot. It wasn’t as though she could seem more ignorant. “So how do we kill this thing if it isn’t alive in the first place?”

“Same way you kill a vampire,” Fluttershy answered. At least she didn’t laugh at Twilight for her dumb question. “Cut off the head.”

A fifty-foot head higher off the ground than the Golden Oaks, constantly spewing deadly flames. Perfect.

Twilight ran forward as far as she dared, then took off, using the speed of her run to help lift her into the air. Flying alone was incredibly hard for her, she certainly wasn’t advanced enough to take off from a stop.

She flew past Fluttershy, angling upward with some difficulty. But without the burst of downward momentum from a huge jump, she was doing better this time. Or maybe it was just desperation fueling her flight.

“Follow my lead!” Fluttershy called, flying past her and lifting up.

Twilight winced, watching Fluttershy retreat higher and higher into the air. It looked like she was going to come down on Oriax from above—which might be hard for her, since she could barely gain as much elevation as a modest ramp. Twilight whimpered, then angled her horn down and lifted herself up into the air with a sudden burst of force. It was like throwing a rock, except for the rush of air past her wings, fast enough that they smacked against her side and she nearly lost control of the sword in her magic. Twilight held on desperately, squealing in surprise with the effectiveness of the push.

Why didn’t Rainbow suggest practicing this way? The answer was as obvious as the question was stupid. Because pegasus ponies don’t have horns. They couldn’t fly this way if they wanted to.

Pushing herself seemed to work well enough, and probably would so long as she didn’t try to land again. But it hadn’t made her any harder for Oriax to notice.

The massive creature didn’t move terribly fast—each one of his huge limbs lifted only once every twenty seconds or so, moving it forward in a painfully slow stomp. But its head was tilting up, as though following a delayed version of where Twilight had gone through the air. It pulled back rotting lips, revealing black crystal teeth underneath.

Twilight stopped pushing abruptly, and started to fall. Her stomach dropped out from beneath her, but the green flames continued over her head, to where she would’ve gone if she knew what she was doing.

And in those flames, Twilight heard a voice. It spoke incredibly slowly, like she’d suddenly learned whale song, yet she found she could understand it perfectly. It even used a lower district Canterlot accent, like she’d grown up hearing in her own house.

“The attacker does not dissuade,” the voice called. “The harvest is ripe. I will feast.”

Fluttershy was no Rainbow Dash, but compared to Oriax she was practically a blur, passing along its neck with her sword extended in her mouth. The creature didn’t bleed exactly, though its flesh split along the blade and smoky flame emerged from within.

It roared, turning slowly towards where Fluttershy had been as one of its limbs lifted. Though it had walked like a leg before, now it twisted upward like a tentacle, without any suggestion of bones to restrict the path it took through the air. It flew straight for Fluttershy, lighting fast compared to how it had moved so far.

Twilight didn’t think, she just acted. Pressure built from her horn as she focused on the hardest spell she routinely practiced—a teleport. The magic wasn’t commonly a weapon, but maybe…

Twilight focused on the joint, and a patch of empty air she could clearly see. There was a flash, and the monster roared again, the upper half of its leg soaring in an arc from the exact angle it had been while still attached—well over Fluttershy’s head.

She was still accelerating downward. Twilight spread her wings, catching herself in a glide and pushing out behind her this time. She sped up suddenly, flying straight at Oriax. She squealed in surprise, tried to change direction, but a little tilt just adjusted her path so that it curved upward, eating most of her forward velocity in the process.

“Not that close!” Fluttershy screamed, but her voice was so tiny and far away.

“I don’t want to!” Twilight screamed. She had already stopped pushing, but she couldn’t just use her magic the other way. That was likely to make her lose control altogether, plunging end-over-end into oblivion.

Oriax’s head turned on her, still trailing fog from the little line along its neck. “Child of evening thinks she belongs with elders,” it rumbled. “The champions of old are all ashes now. Their proud kingdoms lie in ruin. Their triunes are covered by mountains of reef beneath the sea. You think you rule the sky, yet only one has ever seen the footprints. Join them, child. The first meal in so long…” The jaws spread wide above her, each tooth longer than her legs and razor-sharp.

Could I…

Inspiration flashed into Twilight’s mind—possibly the stupidest idea she’d ever had.

She had no time to second-guess. She could either try, or die.

Twilight shoved herself forward with all her might, tucking her wings close and holding the sword in her magic. Not away from Oriax, not to either side—but straight ahead. Its jaw was open so wide that she got nowhere near its teeth or the shriveled flesh within.

Shriveled and meaty, not armored.

From below, green sparks roiled and surged. Flames that, if they rose, would surely do something worse than kill her. But she didn’t have to wait.

The sword was basically moving on its own. Her magic might not help her fly, but she could hold herself in place, and levitated the sword at the same time. She slashed along the neck in a circle from within, digging deep with each stroke. The sword moved so fast she could barely even follow its path, let alone direct it.

Flames rose up from beneath her, like the eruption of a volcano. Oriax’s terrible voice thundered, so deep that from here Twilight couldn’t have said what it was trying to yell at her.

It didn’t matter. The flames drew close, and Twilight vanished with a teleport, reappearing in open air as far away from it as she could.

Flames erupted from the creature’s mouth, yet many of them surged through the new openings she’d made, devouring its flesh. Oriax’s head burned away from its body, flopping to one side.

The trunk wobbled for a few more seconds, green flames spewing up into the air through the opening. Then it fell, shaking the forest beneath her as it did.

“You… you did it,” Fluttershy said from beside her, voice awed. “You fought like her.”

Twilight wasn’t struggling to hold herself in the air anymore. Granted, she was holding still, her wings flapping constantly instead of the occasional twitch an expert pegasus like Rainbow might’ve needed. But it was something.

“Fought like…” Twilight shook the sword in her magic, clearing away Oriax’s disgusting black blood.

“Of course you would,” Fluttershy went on, unhelpfully. “It’s been so long, I… I forget that there wouldn’t be an Equestria without the Alicorns. You’re new, but you’re still one of them. I thought I’d be protecting you…” Fluttershy seemed to droop in the air as she stared down at the body. Already bits of it were crumbling away, burned by flames spreading through the corpse. “We should head back. No long trips through Sideways for a pony as important as you.”

Twilight nodded, watching black blood steam away from the blade. It faded in a few more puffs of smoke, leaving the metal polished and clean. She sheathed it a moment later. “Alright. Let’s… let’s get back. Before I drop. I’m not sure how much more magic I’ve got left in me right now.”

Twilight’s hooves were dragging as she finally returned to the Golden Oaks. Several hours had passed since her early start, but the “closed” sign was still turned in the window. Spike must still be off with Rarity. I hope he’s not too upset that I went somewhere else without him.

Twilight still wasn’t sure how much of what had happened Sideways she wanted to share with anypony. Fluttershy had even offered to let her keep the sword with her—but Twilight had refused. If she never saw that world ever again, it would still be too soon.

But somepony had evidently visited today, somepony who had left a delivery on her doorstep. The box was heavy wood, and nearly half as tall as she was, with no return address. Curiously, her own address wasn’t on the front of the box either, just her first name.

She brought the crate in with her magic, leaving the “closed” sign facing out. Ponyville would go without its library today, and it was possible she’d get reprimanded over that. If Mayor Mare complained to her, Twilight would tell her a little of what she’d been doing. That thing would’ve appeared in Ponyville. Oriax might’ve killed everypony before help got here.

And she’d been part of saving them. Maybe that was what being an Alicorn was about. She was making a difference.

Twilight dragged the crate into her foyer, then angled her horn down at the nails holding it closed. She was still drained of magic, but a simple force spell she could’ve done in her sleep. They came out, and the walls fell away on two sides.

She barely had a second’s warning before the spell worked into the inside of the container triggered in a flash of bright red light. The sides of the box crumbled away, and a fifth-order Spatial Tesseract unfolded before her eyes, causing the compressed space inside to expand to full size.

Twilight leapt to one side with a scream of shock and surprise, covering herself in one of Shining Armor’s bubbles. But her defenses were unnecessary. After a few seconds the magic from behind her faded completely, leaving the room dark again except for the glow from the shield. Twilight released it, turning back to see what piece of Star Swirl level spellwork had been mailed to her.

It was a mannequin, almost a perfect match for her size and proportions, though it was made of linen-covered metal like any other. And on its back… was the dress.

There was the dress her whole savings had bought, without any of the stains and tears her night of vampire hunting had given it. Yet it seemed the dress had been adjusted to the size of the mannequin, as it now hugged perfectly to the wider hips, accentuating longer legs. Not just that, the mannequin had been given jewelry as well—a necklace of red gemstones, and white gold horseshoes with a tiny dusting of amethyst that matched her coat perfectly.

There was a letter tucked into the breast of the dress. Twilight didn’t even need to look at the seal to guess what it would be.

There was the tree, stamped into blood red wax.

Twilight,

You left this in one of the mortal establishments above my vault. A terrible shame, considering the quality of the work. I’ve taken the liberty of correcting its imperfections for you. In return for the information I’ve included, I expect you to wear it to our next meeting.

There is no reason we immortals cannot be cordial with each other. This planet is ours, and all others are merely the butterflies that inhabit it. Beautiful, clever, and transient. You will soon learn not to grow too attached. When you do, think of me. I’ll be waiting.

Regolith.

There were no threats, no veiled suggestions of what would happen if she didn’t keep to a deal she’d never agreed to. But what did he mean by…

There was writing on the back, along with a thin strip of tape. A sliver-sized length of metal glittered in the late afternoon sun through her window, deep red. Orichalcum.

Beside the sliver was a map, drawn in Regolith’s precise penmanship. The map depicted Equestria’s western coast, with a spot many miles from the nearest island marked along with the undersea topography. All you want me to do is wear a dress? Small price to pay. Twilight knew where she would be going next. This one doesn’t even lead to any other worlds!

This would be her easiest mission yet.

Chapter 4.1: Silver

“You know Twilight, when you promised you wouldn’t forget to bring me on your next adventure, I really thought you were just saying that to make me feel better,” Spike said. “But you actually let me come with you!”

Twilight and Spike had traveled further from Ponyville than she ever usually went, not without one of her friends on some “friendship mission” or maybe a royal assignment. But here she was, with no royal scrolls in her saddlebags or escort of guards. She wouldn’t need them this time.

They stood on the edge of the train platform, alongside a fishing village roughly the same size as Ponyville. Twilight was a little disgusted by the smell. It didn’t matter that pegasus ponies sometimes ate it, and that by extension she probably could make herself like it too now that she was an Alicorn. Her instincts weren’t going anywhere in a week, and they filled the air with death.

But a sidelong glance at Spike told her that the feeling wasn’t mutual. She could practically see the drool dribbling down his neck. This was why anywhere like this existed in the first place, even if the demand for fish was so low that just a few towns smaller than Ponyville could supply the entire nation’s needs.

“I really am sorry about how things have been going the last week or so,” Twilight said. “I had no idea how crazy everything would be once I became an Alicorn. It’s like the whole world turned upside-down. Still… kinda trying to figure it out, honestly.”

“Yeah.” Spike waved one claw, dismissively. “I get it. No dragon expects perfection. That… seems like something a dragon should say.”

“Something my number-one understanding assistant would say!” Twilight said, clasping him briefly on the shoulder and grinning. “But this should be a nice vacation from here on out. No incredible lost powers, no dark secrets hidden under our hooves. Just archeology. Like being Celestia’s apprentice all over again. Time to do some learning!”

Twilight stepped off the old wooden platform, scrunching her nose as the station began transferring refrigerated carts of fish into the place of the single passenger car. Apparently not many ponies came to Princessport. In fact, they were the only ones who had been on the train at all.

Spike leaned in close, lowering his voice to a whisper as they stepped out onto one of the cobbled streets. “Don’t you think these ponies look a bit fishy?”

She almost smacked him for the joke, but resisted the urge to be violent. That wouldn’t be terribly polite after how indulgent he’d been to her last few trips. And he hasn’t been pressuring me for secrets about what happened, either. So she settled for a glare. “Nope,” she said flatly, setting off down the main road. It wasn’t hard to find—just like Ponyville, the road into the train station was the most important in town. It was through that train that all goods and services flowed, and so all shops and places catering to visitors would be along it as well.

What she needed was something else—a museum. But she couldn’t see anything like it at a glance, or even a historical society. Just Princessport, built along a rocky coast with the single road curving several times before it reached the distant docks and the few vessels moored there.

Ponies watched her with every step. It wasn’t something new to her, for sure. Becoming an Alicorn meant that she was in the spotlight at every moment. Even in Ponyville they’d done that. But… for a second she almost thought Spike might be right. The eyes on these ponies seemed unusually large, and they didn’t seem to blink.

It’s nothing. He psyched you out, that’s all. The townsfolk were wearing more than any other village she’d visited. Loose, waterlogged robes covered almost all of them. Not only that, but she saw a fair number of wing suggestions on backs, as well as horns on heads. Despite being a full hour away from the nearest town, despite being so remote that it hadn’t even been on several maps, the tribal integration here was as progressive as Manehattan.

You’re right Spike, something’s going on here. Maybe taking him here had been a mistake after all. Regolith’s proof had been undeniable, she had it right in her pack. But he was ancient and wealthy—maybe a sliver of unobtainable metal wasn’t much to give up to get rid of her. No, don’t even start overthinking this. He had you in his lair and let you go. Ponies who live as long as Alicorns and stay in power know how to stay there. They aren’t going to waste their bits tricking me into a trap.

That still didn’t mean she was safe, even if she was right. Twilight put on her best smile, sticking out one leg in front of a young mare walking with a foal.

Well, the mare was walking. The foal was on her back in a cloth carrier, despite looking plenty old to get along on his own hooves. But she didn’t stare. “Excuse me, miss. Can I ask you a question?”

“What the outsider be wanting?” the pony asked, her breath thick with the malaise of the town. Twilight wouldn’t have been surprised if a fish jumped right out of her teeth.

Don’t puke don’t puke don’t puke, she thought desperately to herself, putting on her best smile. She’d seen Princess Celestia do this kind of thing plenty of times—you didn’t have to like a pony to act like a princess around them. “I’m looking for directions to a place for visitors,” she said, speaking clearly to make up for the pony’s accent. “Do you have any… hotels, maybe?”

“’Av an inn,” the pony stammered, shuffling away. Her hooves scraped strangely on the cobblestones as she walked past. “Down the road, another half mile. Cod’s Head. Can’t miss.” And she was gone, vanishing into the crowd with her son’s unblinking eyes watching Twilight from her back.

Spike shivered, clutching briefly at her saddlebags. “Don’t tell me you don’t think this is—”

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” she said, just loud enough to shut him up. There were dozens of ponies walking here, all in robes, all watching them. We can’t talk out in public. “Let’s go to the inn, Spike. That nice mare said it was good for visitors. Come on!” And she set off, speeding up just a little. She could tell she was walking too fast because Spike started panting, tugging on her saddlebags again.

“Maybe we don’t have to gallop there?”

“Right, sorry.” She slowed down immediately, avoiding a huge pothole filled with black slime in the road. She avoided, but Spike didn’t. He tripped on the edge, and spun forward towards who knew what.

Twilight caught him in her magic, settling him gently on the road beside her. “Not so fast, like you said,” she muttered. “Come on.”

They made it to the Cod’s Head without incident—though Twilight was sure she was seeing the same few ponies behind her.

But there was nopony there when she looked, nopony waiting just behind her as she stepped through the cracked wooden door into the Cod’s Head.

She was blasted with a wave of heat as she stepped into the cramped space, which was apparently not just for visitors. Ponies crowded around the tables off to one side, shouting and laughing and passing around jugs of ale. The smell of it nearly set Twilight’s mane on fire.

There was no reception desk with room-mail cubbies, or anything else she might’ve expected at a civilized establishment. There was a bar though, and a pony watching her expectantly from behind it.

At least she’d found one who didn’t bundle up in thick robes in the middle of spring, or stare unblinkingly. He still stared as she approached, eyeing the dragon uncertainty. “One room or two?” he asked, fishing around under the bar for keys. “You got on the wrong train. Next passenger doesn’t arrive for two days, so… here you are.”

He knows the schedule. And yet, he made no comment about her wings. Does he know there’s another princess? Does he even care? It was almost refreshing to talk to somepony who didn’t bow and scrape about it.

“One is fine, if you’ve got double-beds,” she said, fishing her money-pouch out of her saddlebags and levitating out far more bits than a hotel room would be worth. Along with a slice of clear tape, held in her magic and facing away from him. “Two nights, just in case.”

“Right,” he answered, disinterested. “Too much. Give me the twenty-piece, and five for meals. Keep the rest. Name’s Gristle, by the way. What should I put on the ledger?” He didn’t seem to have a ledger. He might be a unicorn, but he didn’t even look like he could read.

“Twilight,” she answered. “And Spike.” Maybe not using my full name will make it harder if someone is looking for me. Probably should’ve lied about my name. But what good would that do if she was keeping her wings out? She’d been on every newspaper in Equestria. Deception was impossible. “I need to ask you about something, Gristle.” She repeated the unfortunate name delicately, afraid she’d misheard. But the pony didn’t correct her.

She lowered her voice, though with the chatter gone completely silent in the Cod’s Head she wasn’t sure that would do her much good. There were no ponies right beside them at the bar, but a few were gathered a little way down. “I didn’t take a wrong turn. I’m here on archeological business, and I was hoping I might be able to ask you for directions. I’d happily pay.” I’m already eating into my savings, might as well make it a party.

Gristle only grunted in response, tossing her a rusty metal key. “Second floor, first door. Meals at sunrise and sunset, no food or drink upstairs.”

She levitated the key a little closer, but she didn’t abandon what she was saying. She turned the clear strip of tape over, exposing the sliver of Orichalcum on the reverse side so that it caught the light. The reflective red-brown metal would be obvious at first glance to anypony who knew it—and it was instantly clear to her that Gristle did.

He froze completely still, eyes laser-focused on the strip. He twitched subconsciously towards it, his magic briefly straining against hers to take it away. Twilight dispelled his grip without even thinking, as casually as she would’ve batted away a fly. His magic was so weak by comparison that she almost didn’t even notice. She pulled it back, slipping it into her money-pouch.

“I’m looking for this,” she whispered, ignoring what he’d just tried to do and keeping her voice low. Maybe she was channeling her inner Rarity, but she no longer felt afraid. I’m not trapped in this town with them, they’re trapped here with me. “I see you know what it is. So tell me where I can find it.”

Gristle went completely still, glancing down the side of the bar. She almost thought he might call for help, maybe try and raise a mob. But no—she was being irrational. Ponies didn’t attack each other! He’d probably only been curious about her sample. He stepped back, nodding politely towards the door. “Historical society. Anything about the old ruins is that way. It’s on the docks—tin building, one story. Closes at sundown. Looks like you’ve got a little daylight left if you want to try and make it back in time for supper.”

“Good.” Twilight stashed her money away, leaving all the change behind on the counter in front of Gristle. “Thank you for your directions, Gristle. Spike and I will be back for dinner.” She turned away, marching straight out of the inn before she could see how many ponies’ eyes were on her.

“You better be serious about that,” Spike said, just a little petulant. “I could smell what they were cooking. I haven’t had fish in… months.”

“We will,” she said, begrudgingly. “I think I agree with your earlier assessment, Spike. Don’t say anything.” She sped up a little, but this time made sure not to leave him behind. The docks were easy to find, and they weren’t that far away when she had already come halfway across town.

It was getting late, and that meant a little less traffic moving through town towards them. Maybe Gristle was right, and they really could get back by supper. Surely an archeologist would be normal, even in a town like this. We can find what we need and get out before anything supernatural happens.

She was still debating just carrying Spike on her back all the way to the next train junction by the time they reached the docks.

For a town that made its whole living fishing, the docks didn’t seem like they were given nearly the care they deserved. Many of the support-beams looked a little rotten, and there were thick coatings of barnacles on anything exposed to the water. The bay itself seemed black and dark, without even a swirl of activity in the gloom below. What grows out there, I can’t even imagine.

“Princessport Historical Society” had been painted on the front of the metal building in old-fashioned letters, worn so pale by the sun she could barely read them. But the sign was turned to open, and there was a little model of a stone city in the single window.

There was barely anypony on the dock with them, and the only boats she could see looked like they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. The one on the end looked like it had half-sunk at the dock, its mast sticking up sideways from under the waves. Yet nopony cared.

“If their big secret is that they eat ponies here,” Spike whispered, his tone just a hint sarcastic. “Promise you’ll go first.”

Twilight shoved him lightly away, then went for the door. It was time to get another ingredient for the cure.

Author's Notes:

I'll be honest, I delayed the posting of this chapter so long I almost forgot. But here we are with the next section, updating daily until it's finished. And our last pone is still coming next month, so don't worry. Along with maybe one last section for Twilight, but... now I say too much.

Chapter 4.2: Prismatic

The metal door squeaked so loudly as Twilight pushed against it that it didn’t even need a bell. The interior was dark, barely lit thanks to the light that reflected through the single grimy window. “Hello?”

The door swung shut the instant Spike let go of it, almost a little too fast. Twilight spun around quickly, but no, there was no sign of anypony there. She lit her horn with violet light, spinning back around and surveying the rest of the building.

There was a glass shelf running along one wall, containing various bits of jewelry and other artifacts. What she’d seen through the mirror, the gigantic model, dominated that entire half of the building. There was a single doorway maybe twenty feet away, and dirty black cloth hung across it, blocking whatever was beyond.

“We’d like to speak with somepony!” Twilight called, raising her voice just a little. “I promise we’ll be as brief as we can! And we’ll make a generous donation!”

She could hear motion from behind the curtain—shuffling, something heavy scraping on the floor. Twilight winced as she heard it, preparing a defensive spell in case she needed it. She counted to ten, then shrugged and started looking around while she waited.

“This thing is pretty neat,” Spike said, pointing at the model. It was actually surprisingly intricate, the one thing she’d seen in town so far that looked like it might’ve actually had some love put into it. It looked like something out of ancient pony history, with huge carved columns holding up a stone roof with shards of splayed glass arranged in the front like splashing waves. A huge temple stood in the very center, or maybe a palace, with lots of homes and shops on various levels with no streets to connect them. Makes sense. Does look a little like Cloudsdale.

Except most ponies used cotton balls in their cloud models. They were incredibly easy, and didn’t need magic to maintain. She could tell at a glance that the city model wasn’t made of real clouds thanks to the layer of grime that coated its reverse side. Where it didn’t face a potential visitor, it was gray instead of white.

The curtains rustled in the doorway, and a pony emerged. A mare, wearing thick robes that covered her all the way to her face. At least Twilight could see the eyes of the pony she was speaking to. “Welcome to the historical society,” the pony said, approaching her and pushing back her hood a little. Her mane didn’t seem quite right—like she’d used way too much gel, and it was forming a ridge right down the middle. She also didn’t blink. “My name is Open Record. We don’t get many visitors.”

“I guess not,” Twilight said, extending a hoof politely. At this point she half-expected Open to slip a dagger from her robe and try to stab her, muttering some evil ritual all the while. But no, nothing like that happened. She shook her hoof, finding it felt just a little damp but otherwise normal. “I’m Twilight. I was hoping you could tell me about something.”

“Of course.” Record walked back around to the glass case. “All our artifacts are here. I have a shelf in back with the town gazette going back five centuries. Along with the other things we don’t like to display out in the open.” She didn’t elaborate, her smile straining a little. “What would you like to know?”

“I’m looking for Orichalcum,” Twilight said. “I-information about it, I mean. Most of Equestria thinks it’s mythical.”

“Because it is!” Open exclaimed, her voice just a tad too rushed. “Obviously. Interesting myths, of course. Ancient ponies can be confounding to try and understand. They turned their daily lives into myths, so they made more sense, that’s what ponies say.”

“They did,” Twilight muttered, though she wasn’t sure how true it really was. Half of the old myths she’d researched ended up being true in the end. Often so true that they returned to threaten Equestria. “What do the myths say about it?”

“That it was the most magical metal,” Open Record said, relaxing a little into the familiar role. “It was said to never rust or tarnish, to amplify any spell that passed through it, and to make the best enchanted objects. It was used for religious purposes too…” She walked over to the model, lifting the roof off a spiral building near the center with one hoof. There was a rusty red metal floor inside, with chairs spread around it. Not the real thing, but she could see the vague similarity to what she was carrying. It lacked the sparkle, or the reverberation when she pushed against it with her magic.

“The ancient city used it in the temple, see here? Kumari’s ponies all visited at every important day, because of the power of the magic there.”

“Kumari?” Spike repeated. “Never heard of a Kumari before. Are there books about it somewhere in the library, Twilight?”

“No,” she said, eyes widening. “But the Canterlot restricted section had a few books.” And it was the name on the bottom of the plaque, near the edge of the table. “This is… a fairly significant bit of archeology, if ponies don’t know about this!”

“There are lots of old myths.” Open Record lowered the roof down into place, smiling awkwardly. “I’m afraid that’s all I know about Orichalcum. Just the old rituals. All fictional.”

“Well…” Twilight hesitated just one more second, then lifted the sample from her bag. She kept out of reach of the pony like she had last time, though it was easier with no horn to be worried about. “That’s interesting, because I have a sample. I’m told it came from very near your town. I don’t know where, exactly. But I was hoping you might have some insight.”

Open’s eyes locked onto the metal exactly as Gristle’s had, and for the second time a pony looked like they might try to take it from her. As she advanced a few steps, Twilight lifted it up and back, out of reach. “Maybe seeing some for yourself will help you remember some things. It’s obviously not fictional. Neither is Nightmare Moon, or Discord, or the Underworld for that matter.” She rolled her eyes. “Between you and me, I think maybe every myth Equestria ever had might have some truth to it at this point. Apparently nopony did anything properly back in the day. It was all mysteries and incomprehensible creatures from beyond time and space.”

Open hesitated for just another second, then swallowed. “Maybe… we could find something in the records room,” she stammered. “There are… old mining registries. Cargo manifests. If you really think that piece came from here… we might be able to see how it got here. Track things that way.”

“Sure!” Twilight slipped it back into her bag, then tightened the straps visibly for the pony to see. “Lead the way!”

Open Record did so, slipping through the overhanging black cloth so fast that it closed quickly behind her. Twilight winced, then lit her horn again as she followed. “Watch my back,” she whispered to the dragon, before passing through with one skeptical hoof.

She kept her horn ready, expecting either an attacker or an enchantment, ready to blast them with who knew what.

In some ways, she was disappointed. The back of the historical society was even darker than the display section out front, with neither lights nor windows to help her see. The smell of mildew and moisture was thick here, and she could feel her hooves slip a little on the floor. But she spread her wings, using the extra stability to stay standing. Spike didn’t, and he slid along the floor at her hooves, nearly tripping her.

“Seems like a bad place to keep records,” Twilight said, brightening her horn a little to penetrate the thick darkness. There was the metal wall on one side, and a set of shelves near them. There was something else close by, what was that—her eyes widened, and she squeaked, entirely too late.

A heavy net dropped on her from above, its thick metal links heavy enough that even Twilight was taken straight to the ground. She squealed in protest, summoning the defensive spell she’d prepared to cut her way free—and she found the energy leaving her. The metal links around her head suddenly burned with heat, warm enough that she almost screamed a second time. Spike snarled and slashed from somewhere nearby, but his claws seemed equally ineffective. “Don’t bother!” called a voice from the other end of the empty room. Not the one she’d expected, though there was something familiar about it.

Twilight couldn’t get a good look at them, because her light spell had gone out. “You were looking for metal. That net was made long ago, to catch monsters in the deep. There’s a tiny fraction of Orichalcum in there, just enough to also be useful against unicorns that get too close.” The voice sounded so familiar in some ways—except that it was wet in a way she couldn’t describe. It also came from much too low on the ground, like the dock underneath had rotted away completely and the speaker was swimming. Twilight couldn’t see without her light spell.

Whoever they were sure sounded threatening—like they’d been preparing for this a long time. “Stop struggling, Spike,” Twilight whispered. She couldn’t cast any spells under the net, apparently. But that didn’t matter. Sooner or later their captors would have to take it off. Once they did… they would discover the severity of their mistake trying to catch an Alicorn.

“What do you mean she’s not a unicorn?” the speaker whispered, suddenly annoyed. Open Record answered; her whisper not audible from across the huge space. But the profanity another second later sure was. “You’re bucking kidding me! Lights!”

There was a click, and brilliant light shone in from all around her, illuminating the entire space in harsh white. But Twilight had no eyes for anything but the speaker.

She had been right about the opening in the docks, though it was less rotten and more purposefully cut. The opening covered over half the floor, an aisle right in the center that seemed placed to allow someone to swim in and out of the bottom of the building with ease. A figure swam right up to the edge, only feet away from Twilight.

She had only two hooves, which she rested on the edge of the platform to stare down at her with familiar magenta eyes. She had a coat of scales instead of fur, with a rainbow fin running down her back. “Buck me, it’s you. Twilight, what the hay are you doing here?”

“Rainbow Dash?”

Her friend of years was still clearly recognizable, despite the transformation. “I think I get to ask the same question,” she said, rising with a sudden surge of earth pony strength and tossing the net aside. There were several figures lurking near the walls, and none of them actually moved to stop her. One was Gristle, the other’s face she didn’t recognize. “I thought you were at another Wonderbolt training camp.”

“Yeah, heh-heh.” Rainbow drifted back in the water a few feet, and Twilight caught her first glimpse under the surface. Her friend had a long, smooth fin, reflecting the light of the spotlights overhead. “About that. Turns out things are maybe a little more complicated than that. I bet you… probably never thought you had a friend with some weird secret like this…”

Twilight couldn’t help it—she smiled, then burst into hysterical laughter. Fish-Rainbow only stared from the edge of the water, confusion spreading across her face.

“What do we do, Rainbow?” asked Gristle from behind her, his tone as unfriendly as it had been in the inn. “The Alicorn escaped.”

“Of course ‘the Alicorn’ escaped!” Rainbow hopped up with her wings, out of the edge of the water. She rested on the wood there, balancing on a perfectly toned chest. Her body was as sleek and muscular as she ever looked with feathers, though there were also slits in her neck for gills, pressed closed now that they were out of the water. Apparently she could still breathe air, because she could still talk about the same. “We weren’t going to be able to stop her if we wanted to. And if we tried…” She shook her head. “You want Celestia to come down on us? Cool it!” She stuck out one leg in the other direction, towards Open Record. “Stop with the memory coral! It probably won’t work on her anyway. I’ll handle this. You ponies can go.”

“You’re a seapony!” Spike said, finally recovering enough of his wits to speak. “You’re real. I thought… I mean, everypony says that they used to exist. Knew the best songs or whatever. But you don’t see seaponies outside of comic books.”

“Welp, here you go,” Rainbow said, sliding backward until her gills were underwater again, holding her forelegs up over the rim so she could watch them. “One seapony, in the flesh. Well quite a few seaponies, but Twilight is probably figuring all that out. Knowing her, she probably worked out the whole conspiracy. Hit me with it, Twi. I’ll tell you if you’re hot or cold.”

Twilight didn’t hesitate. She walked right over to the edge of the water, sitting down on her haunches. “Transforming another pony is incredibly powerful, restricted magic. There’s no way that’s what this is. So that means it’s… genetic. If vampires are real, no reason seaponies couldn’t be too. Maybe it’s an inherited, recessive gene. You must have it.”

Rainbow swam back a little, flicking her tail powerfully to keep her upright in the water, almost at Twilight’s eye level. Impressive strength. Don’t you dare look at her like that, Twilight. Get your mind out of the dock. “Pretty warm so far. At least… I think you are. I’ll admit I don’t understand half of those words.”

Twilight went on. “I’m guessing your transformations must be… seasonal. That’s why you have to take such frequent training trips, and… why you work in weather. It’s a commission job you can take when you’re in town, then miss for weeks at a time when you’re out here. But don’t you have family in Cloudsdale? And… you’ve got records up there. I know you really did the Sonic Rainboom, or else none of us would’ve met. Spike wouldn’t have hatched without you.”

“I probably would’ve hatched eventually,” Spike countered. But he didn’t sound that upset, not when they were getting to see such amazing things.

“Oh, that happened. Flying is… a lot like swimming. Different resistances, different angles. But lots of it is the same technique. Practicing in Kumari is almost as good as practicing in the sky. If you ask me, the water is better. It’s so thick that when you finally switch back to flying it feels like you’re taking weights off your hooves.”

Twilight wanted to grill her friend for hours about the whole conspiracy—how had seaponies been hiding in Princessport for all this time without discovery? How many seaponies were there? Were there other villages like this? But there were more important things right now. She hadn’t come just to solve a mystery; she’d come with a specific goal in mind.

“I guess it’s only fair that I answer your question. Why I’m here—it’s Orichalcum, like Open Record probably told you. I need some.”

“Why?” Rainbow rested her head on the edge of the dock, watching her with concern. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking, Twilight. There are only two sources of that stuff anywhere in the ocean. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to, not alone. Kumari won’t sponsor an expedition, and if you tried to take it from the temple… pretty sure that would be like declaring war. Which is bad.”

“I know!” Twilight didn’t understand anything about what Rainbow was saying, but that didn’t mean she had to sit by silently. “I know I don’t want war,” she said, a little more carefully. “It’s for Sweetie Belle. She’s… very sick. It’s part of the only cure.”

“Really?” Rainbow hopped out of the water, scooting towards her along the dock. She grinned sharp teeth at her, sharp enough that her fishy diet was obvious. “You aren’t Applejack, so I want to look at you while you’re telling me. This is really for Sweetie Belle?”

Twilight nodded, not looking away. “She’ll never live a normal life without it. Rarity is counting on me to bring back a piece of Orichalcum. I don’t need you to do it for me, though.” She stood a little straighter. “My last week has been insane, Rainbow. You probably won’t believe me, but… I’ve been to the Underworld, I killed a demon, hunted vampires… I can get the metal myself.”

Rainbow laughed, glancing at her back legs. “Doubt it, Twi. You’re… if you were one of us, you’d have found out about the same time you got your cutie mark. There’s not enough of the sea in your blood for a ship in a bottle.”

“It’s…” Twilight swallowed. “I’d have to go into the ocean?”

“Yeah!” Rainbow grinned a little wider. “Like I said, you can only find it in two places. You can see all the Orichalcum you want in the temple. But you can’t touch, and they won’t let you have it, even for a good cause.”

“And what’s the other place?”

“The Tehuti Ruins,” Rainbow said, her voice going flat and losing all humor. “No single fish has ever swam there and returned. Last expedition I heard of had… fifty, I think. Only half came back. You’re an Alicorn, but… here you are breathing air. Wouldn’t be very helpful up here.”

“I could…” Twilight straightened. “Of all the creatures who know enough transfiguration to use on a pony, I’m one of them. I could… probably manage. If you give me a few minutes to scratch something out on the wood here.”

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t like the sound of that either,” Spike said, his voice shaking. “It sounds an awful lot like ‘wait here until I get back, Spike! Don’t worry, I’m sure those crazy cultists won’t make you into stew or something while I’m gone!’”

“Nah, I can make sure that doesn’t happen,” Rainbow said dismissively. “They wouldn’t, anyway. You’d just wake up with a headache next town over, and never remember coming here. Nobody here eats dragons. You’re not a fish.”

“And I’m not joking,” Twilight said, removing her saddlebags and lifting a piece of charcoal from her spellcasting kit. She tossed the bag to Spike, then found a clear patch of ground and started sketching. Occasionally she glanced up towards Rainbow Dash, reading her with her horn. “I hope you were serious, because I’m going.”

“I’ll be seriously amazed if you do it,” Rainbow said. “There are plenty of fish who wanted to be regular ponies again. The ones who… don’t have enough land in their blood to ever come back. They’ve searched for ages for a transformation spell. If they can’t do it, you aren’t going to find one in five minutes.”

“Not five,” Twilight agreed. “Maybe… two.” She finished, tossing the charcoal aside. “Your fish friends are probably looking for a spell that can transform someone else, or maybe they want it to be permanent. Both of those increase the complexity of any spelling an order of magnitude. But I can make this to last until sunrise, and I can cast it on myself. Simple!” She held out one leg. “Can I have a scale, please? I need a piece to make this work, and you don’t have a mane anymore…”

Rainbow flinched, swimming back a few feet with widening eyes. “You’re serious. I guess if… anypony could do it.” Her expression grew more resolved. “That would make explaining this easier. She was a fish the whole time, guys! Her dragon is in on it, you can all put the pitchforks away! No need to panic. We’re not getting revealed to the world.”

“Why hide at all?” Spike asked, sitting down beside the diagram and pulling a comic book out of the saddlebags. “Ponies would love to find out there was another friendly tribe!”

“Because we’re all sterile unless we interbreed with ponies,” Rainbow said, as casually as if she was commenting on the weather. “And ponies would probably start figuring out real quick when most of their foals started growing scales.”

“Yikes.” Spike sat back against the wall, opening up his comic book. “Just tell them not to attack me before you go on your crazy adventure, Twi. I’ll probably be at the hotel room when you get back.”

“If we get back,” Rainbow Dash said, reaching under her belly and wincing. She emerged with a bright blue scale in her hoof a moment later, offering it to Twilight. “We’ll probably get eaten by sea monsters. Tehuti is basically the most dangerous place in existence. Nopony should swim there.”

“Yeah yeah,” Spike waved a claw dismissively. “Maybe if you two were anypony you’d be fine. But you’re Rainbow and Twilight, the coolest and strongest ponies around. You’ll probably be back before dinner.”

Twilight pushed his words away from her mind, ignoring Rainbow as she preened in the attention and called for Open again. Twilight had to focus on her spell—had to focus with every drop of concentration she had.

Self-transformation was in the same class of difficulty as teleportation, the kind of spell that you could only fail once.

But she had a piece of her target in her circle, had an example to look at while she worked. Performing this charm from description alone would’ve been completely impossible.

She released the spell after a few seconds, feeling suddenly drained as the magic left her. She hadn’t memorized the patterns perfectly like her teleports, and runes on the ground were always harder.

Her neck burned, and her legs wobbled under her. Her back legs gave out, and she squealed in surprise. She flopped to one side.

The spell progressed rapidly from there, cool scales spreading across her body, her legs fusing into a lengthening tail, her cutie mark emerging on a transparent fin. One of many. Instinct drove her towards the water, and she splashed in sideways with much less coordination than Rainbow Dash.

She found herself gasping for air after only a second, drifting down through the bright opening, past old wooden posts holding up the docks all thickly coated in mussels and barnacles.

“Hey, stupid,” Rainbow said from above her. Her voice was a little distorted by the water, but much less than she would’ve expected. She still sounded exactly like her friend. “Stop holding your breath. Going back and forth takes a ton of practice. Just let the water in.”

Twilight’s instincts screamed in her head, and her horn almost summoned a little bubble of air—but she was too weak after the transformation. Her spell fizzled, and she gasped.

The fire in her lungs went out, and relief flooded through her. Twilight’s eyes stopped watering, and her body uncurled. The water no longer felt stinging cold as it had on the dock, but pleasantly cool, passing around and through her as though that were the most natural thing in the world.

Her wings spread behind her by reflex, and she tried to push herself towards Rainbow. Unsuccessfully. They weren’t wings anymore at all, but fins.

“No.” Rainbow darted over to her, as lithe as a trout swimming upriver to spawn. “You don’t swim vertical, that’s silly.” But then she wrapped her forelegs around her, squealing with delight. “I can’t believe you get to come down to Kumari with me! All this time I thought I’d eventually have to say goodbye forever… well, it’s fitting the immortal pony in the group would get to do it. You can make as many trips back as you want! And… maybe get that spell written down for some of the fish down in Kumari. If you wanna be rich, I mean.”

Twilight took one last look up towards the opening into the historical society, where she could vaguely make out Spike’s purple scales amid the old bookshelves. Good luck up there, she thought, but Rainbow was probably right. She would be back soon enough that saying goodbye didn’t make sense. Time to complete that cure.

Chapter 4.3: Currents

In less than a week, Twilight had seen all kinds of incredible places, all a half-step away from the reality she knew. But the ocean was no foreign realm—pony ships could be passing above them right now. A diving bell might drop, or a unicorn with the right spells could visit for brief periods to study undersea life. This was no underworld, or spirit realm. Like the vampires that stalked Canterlot, this was real.

If it were possible, Rainbow Dash swam even better than she flew. Her fins cut through the water with the precision of a lifetime of practice, circling around Twilight and leaving a trail of bubbles where she passed.

If I thought being an Alicorn would let me outfly her, that’s not happening. Something told her that Rainbow would’ve already been in the Wonderbolts if swimming had been an option.

“Why are we hugging the ground so much?” Twilight asked, gesturing up with one of her fins towards the vast expanse of open water above them. The sun stained it all blue, with shafts of light visible from where it occasionally peeked through.

“Because that’s open water,” Rainbow answered, zipping down past her towards the rocky ground. This was no tropical ocean, so there weren’t a thousand different colored corals as she had occasionally seen drawn in wildlife portraits. “There’s so much of it in the ocean that most of it’s empty all the time. Booor-ring.”

“That’s just rock down there, it’s not any dif—” Twilight trailed off abruptly, following Rainbow down only with difficulty. At a glance, she’d seen only stone. But now that she looked…

There was life here. Those prickly spheres weren’t rocks, they were urchins, surrounded by starfish and mussels. Fish darted between huge sea-cucumbers, picking the algae from the rocks.

As Rainbow got close, lots of little fish scattered away from her, moving in schools of silver or gray. Twilight kept up with her, but only barely. Swimming was easier than flying, since these bodies seemed naturally built to maintain neutral buoyancy in a way that didn’t happen in the air. But that didn’t mean she could match her speed.

“If you want to look for life, look for where it’s living,” Rainbow said. “And if we get separated, that’s even more important. You aren’t going to catch a meal in the open ocean, it’s all too fast. You have to take advantage of the terrain.”

She gulped. Realizing she was breathing the same water that fish and all other sea-creatures used for… all their biological functions—that was hard enough. But eating them was a bridge too far. Right? Thank Celestia I didn’t come down here hungry.

“We’re just going down to the Tehuti Ruins, right? Find some old metal, help Sweetie Belle, and everything is perfect.”

“Uh… yeah,” Rainbow said. “Except no. We can’t just ‘go’ to Tehuti. The ruins are at the bottom of Kumari. It’s all connected, see. We’ve been building the same place for… I have no idea. I don’t even know any fish who are old enough to remember. It’s closer than you think, though. Princessport had to be close enough that we could go back and forth, that was the point. Another… half hour of swimming or so. Mostly down.”

“And you aren’t worried about ponies discovering you?” Twilight asked. So long as Rainbow didn’t go too fast, she could keep up. Of course, she did seem like she wanted to speed away, but she would always circle back. She wouldn’t leave me behind. She’s too loyal for that.

“Uh… no,” Rainbow answered, as though the idea was absurd. “Twilight, how many pony explorers do you know?”

“Daring Do!” she answered reflexively, stopping in the water and floating vertically again. It was the closest to the way she would’ve held a conversation if she were a pony above the water.

“Great.” Rainbow circled around her. “You mean a fictional explorer whose adventures happen in books. The awesomest books ever, for sure. But books. Can you name anypony real?”

Twilight opened her mouth to respond. She held it that way so long that a little fish almost swam inside, and she had to shut it again. She grumbled, folding her forelegs. “Just because I can’t remember anypony off the top of my head—”

“Oh, I’m sure there are others,” Rainbow agreed. “But not many. Kumari isn’t easy to find. We’re far enough out to sea that most unicorns would run out of magic before they got to the bottom. We’re far enough that no diving bell can get there.”

“That might change one day,” Twilight argued. “Maybe we’ll build… airships that can swim! Like that novel, umm…”

“Maybe.” Rainbow shrugged. “But probably not. And even if ponies do, nothing says we have to hide forever. Maybe you’ll be ready for us by then. Not… you personally.” She swam a flip in the air, drifting down again. “Look, can we get moving again? Staying in one place makes me nervous.”

They did. Twilight ran through a dozen different objections in her head, but couldn’t bring herself to actually make any of them. “You really think… ponies are too afraid to know about you? That you have to keep hiding?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rainbow said. “Individuals are smart, Twilight. You’re the smartest creature I’ve ever met. Smart enough that you even became an Alicorn. But herds aren’t… They’re dumb. They jump to conclusions. They do things that hurt themselves. We have to keep hiding, until it’s obvious to everypony in Equestria that we’re not dangerous. Maybe that’s just a comparison… if there are really vampires out there, we’d seem pretty safe by comparison. Your foals might have fins one day—that’s not so much to ask.”

How long had they been swimming? The continental plate was sloped, and they were swimming along it. Apparently far enough now that they’d reached the shelf.

It was like any cliff she would’ve seen above the water, except instead of birds there were fish. Fish, and water that was only faintly lit with deep blue. There was almost no difference between her own scales and Rainbow’s now—no other colors of light could reach this far.

“And they’re not going to do anything creepy to… try and keep me from leaving, after I know the secret?”

“Oh yeah…” Rainbow stopped abruptly. “Uh… hmm. Yeah. I think whenever ponies make it here, they aren’t technically supposed to leave. If you have your own fins that’s different, since protecting Kumari helps you as well as us. But you should, uh…” She shrugged. “How about… don’t talk about coming from Equestria? You should say you’re from… Mount Aris? That’s in the southern ocean, it’s a—”

“Mythical mountain city of the hippogriffs?” Twilight asked, indignant. “You must be joking. They’re not going to believe that.”

Rainbow glared at her, expression intense. “What, because you don’t look enough like a hippogriff?” She held out one of her hooves, frowning. “Good point. You can be from… Lemuria instead. Tropical colony, real pretty. You flew here with me.”

“Except that’s not true,” Twilight said. “And there are ponies on the surface who know it isn’t. Can’t we just say that Celestia sent me? It’s… not exactly a lie…”

“She does know about us,” Rainbow admitted. “Guess that works. Just try not to answer any political questions. Say you’re here to… meet all the Equestrian subjects or whatever. It’s a pleasure trip. If it gets around there might be more treaty negotiations, then you’ll have fish swimming up to you from the reef all the way down to the abyss, and you’ll be answering petitions you don’t understand for three days.”

“My, uh… my spell won’t last three days.”

“Exactly. And if it wears off down here, you won’t drown… you’ll be crushed.” She swam up close, lowering her voice to a serious whisper. “Ponies have air cavities, Twilight. Lungs, sinuses, a few others. You know what happens at these depths?” She made a gruesome face. “It’s… horrible. How about we don’t let that happen.”

“Sure,” Twilight muttered, flicking her tail in sudden fear. A tail she would only have until sunrise. A sunrise she couldn’t even watch for.

Celestia I am in over my head this time.

“I’m still going,” Twilight declared. “I know it would be… smarter… to come up with a better spell. Maybe enchant something to carry it, so it wouldn’t wear off unexpectedly. But I might not get another chance. Next time I come to Princessport, they might just use the memory stuff and send me out. I’ve got to go now.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rainbow zipped around her again, leaving a thin trail of bubbles and spinning water. Then she turned sharply, straight over the edge. “Come on! I can smell lunch from here!”

As far as secret settlements of long-extinct races went, Princessport had been a disappointment. But as Twilight approached Kumari from above, following just a few steps behind, she almost stopped breathing to stare.

All the color that had been missing from water going increasingly black with depth sprung back abruptly, lighting twisting spires of crystal. In many ways it reminded her of the Crystal Empire, if the city had been built in three dimensions instead of two. There were no roads, no bridges or paths between buildings—what was the point, when everyone could swim?

Huge spotlights cut through the dark water above her, lighting the way down the rocks towards the city. Evidently Rainbow had been right about just how unafraid of discovery these fish were.

What buildings weren’t made from crystal had evidently been carved directly from the black rock that surrounded them on all sides, and these were overflowing with life. A reef grew here, of hard corals in reds and yellows and oranges that seemed grown like parks and flowerbeds on the surface.

She couldn’t even guess at how many seaponies she saw, floating outside buildings, watching performances far below, or swimming between structures in complex patterns outlined with little glowing spots.

“Kumari,” Rainbow said from beside her, seeming pleased with Twilight’s appropriately shocked reaction. “Not some birds hiding, or a little colony. The last proper city.”

And you put it right beside Equestria, because without us you can’t have foals of your own. There were terrifying projections to be made about that—what would happen if they kept breeding forever? Would there be any ponies left?

But Twilight hadn’t come to solve all the world’s problems, or even to identify this as a problem. Celestia obviously knew about Kumari and Princessport on the surface, they had treaties and everything. Wish I wasn’t questioning her judgement so much lately.

“So, if we’re going down to the Tehuti Ruins, we should… get some food first, obviously. Then we’ll visit my place, grab some of my awesome adventuring stuff. After that… guess we should go straight there. You’re running out the clock, after all. Good thing you’re with the fastest fish in the ocean.”

Twilight didn’t doubt that, and she wasn’t disappointed. As they got closer, she realized that the water was moving on its own—there were currents, not the turgid flow of surface rivers either. Kumari did have roads after all, they just weren’t visible until you got too close. As soon as they entered, they were swept away. Twilight had to hold on to Rainbow at first to keep from getting flung out into the water, attracting annoyed glances from the other fish they blocked.

It was a good thing the currents had glowing points to mark their borders, given how close many of the buildings were in places. Sometimes solid walls ran almost right along the side of the water.

And if I smacked into one of them… But was this more dangerous than flying?

“I know somewhere vegetarian we can go for lunch,” Rainbow said, once they’d transferred from the central thoroughfare and down a much-slower flowing “road.” The city loomed above Twilight now, with many of the crystal structures above replaced with the carved stone variety. Rainbow had been right, it really did seem like Kumari was just one layer built on another, and they’d already dropped down from the heights. The equivalent of a suburb, if the small families and little groups of fish were any guide.

But there were no young foals, and most of the groups had only a single adult. Because the other parent is on land.

“Here, this is it.” Rainbow looped her foreleg through Twilight’s, yanking her out of the water in a single decisive tug. There was an open section of rock, with a painted green sign on the wall showing a bowl of salad. “Lots of newbies come out here, I know I did.”

They swam inside, and the uncanny resemblance to Equestria proper only got stronger. A white glow overhead, squares on the wall with “windows” that were really just paintings of equestrian scenery. A huge map of Equestria was on one wall, with stylized depictions of landmarks. Living green plants grew along the ceiling as well, though Twilight didn’t recognize them. More like a thick, leafy seaweed than grass.

“Welcome to Dinori,” said a smiling gold and blue fish behind the counter, nodding politely to them. “Back again, Rainbow? Why would a fish your age be feeling nostalgic?”

“I’m not!” Rainbow defended, removing something from around her neck and setting it on the counter. It was a shell made of gold, incredibly small and with a little hole in the center. “For both of us. My friend hasn’t adjusted to real food yet. I’ll have what she does.”

“Oh, sure,” said the fish. “Blame your friend, I see.” But she was grinning. “We hope you enjoy your time at Dinori,” she said, nodding to Twilight. “I can see from your expression you have no idea what any of these are. How about I just serve you something, and you tell me how great it is?”

“That… sounds great,” Twilight said, already liking this pony. Or… was she even a pony? She looked so young, why did she talk like she’d been working this place for so long?

Twilight wasn’t brave enough to ask. She watched as the mare coated an ordinary plate with some kind of slime from a covered dish, then served the various plants atop it. She saw instantly why—the various baskets and containers of fresh green plants were covered because their contents drifted as soon as they were opened. Once settled onto the plate, the food stuck.

“There.” The mare offered it to her. “If you’re ever feeling nostalgic, Slow Simmer here at Dinori won’t judge you for it. Unless you’re too proud to admit it like her.”

Rainbow grumbled something from behind her, then took her plate. The shop even had tables, though they had to tuck their tails under just to stop from floating away.

“I’m beginning to see why you might not do things the same way we do,” Twilight said, after picking a few bites at the tossed seaweed salad. She couldn’t identify almost any part of it, and it certainly had a “wild” taste. But nothing she couldn’t get used to. As for the implication of everypony here eating fish…

For her part, Rainbow scarfed her lunch down as quickly as she did anything, even licking up whatever sauce they used to hold it together. “I’ve got some stuff at my place we might be able to use; we should probably stop there after. It’s just… a little way down. Not down into the Glooms, so don’t ask. I’m new here, and I gotta work my way up like everypony else. Even if I’m kinda a big deal in Equestria.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. But the more of this world she saw, the less afraid of it she became. These didn’t seem like the type of ponies who would be plotting to overthrow Equestria. “Do you think anypony will mind if we go… where we’re going?” she asked, keeping her voice down. “You said it was close to here…”

“They’d tell us we were being stupid,” Rainbow said. “And they’d be right. I wouldn’t do it with any other fish, or for a worse cause. But I know you. If I sent you back to the surface, you’d come right back, alone. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She couldn’t.

Twilight ate the rest of her meal, listening to the conversation between the group of fish one stall over. They were talking about the city—about how amazing it was, but... “I wish I didn’t have to go home in a few days. It’s not fair that the old fish get to live here, and we can only swim for a few days a year.”

Her friend, a stallion, seemed more reserved. “I’d rather be in Equestria. Three days… is more than enough. Listen to them, Scarlet. They all say you only wish to be down here until you can’t go topside anymore. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Finished?” Rainbow asked, before she’d finished. “I know Kumari must be really interesting to you, but… you’re kinda on a time limit here, remember?”

“Yeah.” Twilight pushed the plate aside. “I’ve had enough. Let’s get… whatever you said.”

Rainbow’s house proved to be more or less exactly the same as the cloud she lived in above Ponyville. There were similar piles of junk, the same magically waterproofed Wonderbolts posters, along with some of her trophies. Some of them showed distinctly aquatic themes, along with little bronze seaponies. She was the same pony no matter what she was flying through.

She didn’t have an impressive armory of enchanted artifacts like Fluttershy did, or even carefully constructed tools like Rarity. She did have an oversized breastplate, made of woven metal scales of something almost weightless.

“Before you ask—” Rainbow said, as she slipped it on and tightened the straps. “Yes, it’s real mithril. And no, I don’t have another one. It was a gift for saving the magistrate’s… forget it.” She settled a trident in beside the armor, wrapping it into the straps where it wouldn’t move while she swam, and the sharp bits would be pointing down. If someone bumped into her by accident, they’d only hit a metal rod, instead of the dangerous prongs.

“This is a crime,” Twilight said, circling around the little supply room. Seapony houses were tiny, vertical spaces, with little separation between rooms. But she hardly felt trapped—if anything, having a ceiling over her head was a relief. “Separating magical knowledge like this. You have enough mithril down here that you’re making it into clothes? Do you have any idea, any conception how rare that is? Or… Orichalcum, so rare that ponies don’t even think it exists. Imagine what Equestria could’ve accomplished if we were truly united. All our tribes, all of them, working together. I bet your city could really use some unicorn enchantments.”

Rainbow made a noncommittal sound. “We have plenty of sea-unicorns…” But it wasn’t an argument. Like Twilight earlier, she couldn’t honestly object. “It’s not up to me, Twi. If you want to go to the temple, meet the magistrate… we could do that instead. Just as much of a waste of time, but… at least we won’t get attacked. Not that I’m afraid.” She drew the trident in a single quick stroke, slashing forward a few times in the water. “I’d like to see them try and hurt us.”

“I’ll… talk to Princess Celestia about it,” Twilight said. “A week ago, I would’ve trotted right in to try and change their minds. But now… there’s more going on that I don’t understand. Celestia might have a good reason I just don’t realize.”

“And that is the smartest thing you’ve said since you got here,” Rainbow declared, stowing her weapon back in its holster. “I wish you were smart enough to give up on going down to Tehuti, but… I’m not expecting any miracles today.”

“And you won’t get one,” Twilight said, turning her back on her. “Come on. Let’s see this place everypony is so scared of.” Can’t be worse than anywhere I’ve been lately.

Chapter 4.4: Surface

The tiers of Kumari stretched further than Twilight had thought possible. Rainbow’s modest apartment seemed like it would be at the bottom of the stone, where light faded into distant blue—but she was wrong. What she had initially taken to be the bottom of the city, covered with dead coral and a layer of marine snow was actually more like a crust.

“Here we are,” Rainbow said, floating gently beside a heavy metal hatch. It wasn’t steel, though it was covered with a greenish patina of something along its surface. “This is the way down. Up here is safe, down there is… not.”

And the other residents of Kumari obviously knew it. No fish got within a hundred feet of the bottom, and any who looked to see them quickly turned away and sped up. Only little scavengers crawled along stone walls—crabs with transparent coats and tiny eyes on little stalks. The crabs watched Rainbow Dash as she fumbled with her trident against the hatch, shoving it open a little.

“I’ve had better chances to give up than this,” Twilight said, exasperated. “Why would I turn around now?”

“You wouldn’t,” Rainbow answered. “But I’ll feel better if something goes wrong if I asked you to leave. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Make it… as easy as possible to give up. I dunno. I’ve never been the mysterious guide to the unknown in a Daring Do book before…”

Rainbow looked away, bracing against the hatch and pushing with all her might. The metal squealed in protest, sending lots of little crabs scattering on either side. A thin powder of white roiled in the water around them, filling it with a stink of… garbage, for lack of a better word. Organic garbage.

Twilight waited for the dust to clear, then dared a few quick strokes forward towards the immense hole.

Below Kumari was… another city. A thin shaft of crystal light cut through the opening, spreading into the gloom and quickly diffusing. As she got close, runes carved into the edge of the hatch began to glow bright red. Whatever they were, they didn’t affect Twilight, passing over her quickly. But Rainbow looked visibly uncomfortable.

“Ugh. Forgot about that. This is… gonna suck. Hope you’re ready to feel like a freakshow.”

Twilight spun around in front of her, rolling her eyes. “More than… I do now?”

“By ancient decree—” Rainbow recited, sounding incredibly bored. She spoke faster and faster as she explained. “Nothing from the sunlit world above will trespass upon the ancient depths, and the creatures of the Underworld must likewise shed their spines when—” She groaned. “Yeah yeah, you’ll see it when we go through. I guess it’s probably good—adapting or whatever. But it sucks and it’s gross and don’t you dare tell the girls about it.”

“I didn’t think I would get to tell them about… any of this,” Twilight said.

“Yeah, well. Especially this part.” Rainbow yanked on her foreleg, pulling her down. “Come on, before the city watch tell us to stop being suicidal. Nothing but to get it over with…”

They swam. As before, Twilight felt nothing at all. There was a brief connection with magic more ancient and powerful than most she’d ever known, like using the Elements of Harmony. But just like those artifacts ignored creatures that were in harmony with Equestria, this spell passed right over her, water sliding down her back.

Rainbow, however… changed. She only felt it at first—the scales down her foreleg suddenly felt rough and uncomfortable, making Twilight pull away. Then she saw what she was swimming beside, and almost screamed.

Rainbow was… different. Her tail had lengthened to twice its previous size, and her scales had lost all their color. In places, they were actually transparent, allowing the glow of her organs to emerge from within. That was definitely a heart in there, and the salad moving through her guts—

Twilight looked away, but she couldn’t avoid the other changes. Her friend’s teeth had lengthened, and sharp spines lined her back. Her eyes had grown so large they dominated her face, both completely black.

“Sweet Celestia,” Twilight breathed, unable to keep the horror from her voice. “You’re, uh…”

“Jealous,” Rainbow said. Instead of quick motions, she moved in a slow, constant circle. Like a shark, never stopping for fear of suffocation. “You’re still normal. How’d you do that?” She sounded like Rainbow was talking through something in her mouth. Not surprising, with those razor-sharp teeth.

“I guess… because I’m not really a seapony?” Twilight said, avoiding her eyes. Those black spots… she’d see those in her nightmares now. “I’m… is it okay if I don’t write a spell to copy that?”

“Probably,” Rainbow answered. “Seaponies go this deep all the time, just not here. Also I think there’s some rules about how long you can stay… something about pressure or oxygen in the water or… I don’t really pay attention to boring stuff. But it doesn’t matter, since you’ve only got until sunrise anyway.”

From up above, the metal grate slammed shut abruptly. The sound reverberated through something metallic with an air of finality, cutting off the already feeble light. Except, of course, for Rainbow’s glowing internal organs.

“Come on, we shouldn’t stay in one place. There are predators here… and they’ll smell you. Let’s find our way inside.”

“Inside…?” Twilight asked, still struggling to look in Rainbow’s direction for too long without feeling sick. Seaponies were what she expected them to be. Shiny, and floaty, and basically like ponies. But this… maybe this was what Equestria was really afraid of.

Don’t even start, Twilight. You just went hunting with a vampire, and you’re going to be afraid of Rainbow because she has teeth? Get it together. Rainbow hadn’t remained floating in the empty black water to wonder to herself, but had kept on swimming down. Twilight could faintly see the glow of her path retreating towards distant, massive shapes.

Twilight swam for her life, and the reedy light of the opening quickly fell behind her. She lit her own horn as a replacement, using the same red-light spell she used while stargazing. Red light wouldn’t travel very far in this abyss—hopefully that meant whoever lived here wouldn’t be able to see.

Rainbow waited for her beside something wide and flat. It sloped upward, with corrosion-covered metal broken with cracked panes of glass. Buildings. The structure continued down as far as her red light lasted. “Stars and stones… there’s so much.”

“No fish knows how far, or how old,” Rainbow recited. She gestured at a cracked window, and they swam inside. The glass was covered with a film of organic debris, making the inside opaque. The chamber beyond was large, about twice as tall as ponies made their structures, with a few dark crabs and other scavengers scuttling over ancient debris.

“This place… wasn’t built by seaponies,” Twilight guessed. “These things are too big. And… most of the metal looks like it corroded. Not as much rust as I expected.”

Rainbow swam past her, a comparatively massive shape in the gloom. Maybe now that she was so big, she was the right size for this alien city. With its too-high ceilings and strange objects.

“If you come back, go to the temple,” she said. “There are songs about this place. Ask them to recite the, uh… the Lament of… the Survivors. Think that’s it.”

“Makes sense,” Twilight said, wanting to swim closer to her for comfort, but hesitating every time she started. Those teeth… looked like they could get through her scales in a single bite. “Without writing, you’d have to carve, or keep an oral history. Songs would preserve the…” She trailed off. Her heart just wasn’t in the academics.

The entire ocean seemed to shake. She heard the rumble of metal, and a distant crash. A roar cut through the water, echoing off the sunken city. Almost a seapony’s voice, but so much deeper. How big is that?

Rainbow heard it too, and she yanked on Twilight’s hoof, dragging her through the water to a set of stairs. Huge ones, that would’ve been too large to climb comfortably. But swimming meant they were no problem. “Looks like they smelled you already. We should try and get down. There’s an underground… that’s where we’d find Orichalcum, not in these old ruins. Only thing we could get up here is caught in a scavenger’s net.”

They swam. Twilight dimmed her glow to something so faint she hoped it wouldn’t be visible from outside the windows. The ancient ruins had a stairwell that cut through the core of the building, letting them weave between the gaps between flights with relative ease.

This was good, since the longer they remained, the more sounds she heard from outside. Metal screamed on metal outside, and somewhere further into the building she heard glass shattering. Rainbow sped up, though her new body didn’t seem capable of the same speed as her old one. Twilight could keep up with her easily, drifting along in the wake behind her tail.

I might have to use this. Nothing moves fast down here.

“What’s that noise?” she asked, her voice as quiet as Rainbow could still hear. “It doesn’t sound as big as that other… whatever that was.”

Rainbow didn’t answer, not until they made it to the bottom of the stairs. A door covered in indecipherable block letters had fallen off its hinges, opening into a tunnel directly into the rock. Flooded, with pipes along the ceiling covered in a thick blanket of pale worms. Warmth hit her as they approached, a sharp contrast to the chilling cold in the building.

Heat means energy. Magical, geothermal, or… something else. Maybe her academic mind wasn’t completely smothered. She was still wondering what all these creatures ate.

Rainbow swerved back around so suddenly that Twilight winced at the quick bend in her neck. But it didn’t seem to bother Rainbow. But then… she couldn’t see bones in her transparent gut, not even a spine.

“They say this is where all the old fish go, in time. Young fish hear the sea and they come to Kumari. Ancient fish hear the Deeps and they flee the light, never to be seen again.” Then she relaxed, her too-many-teeth breaking in a terrifying smile. “That’s what they tell me, anyway. I’m just a baby, so I don’t actually know. I just know it’s either come here or spend a few days swimming circles in my cloud bathtub. Take a guess which is more fun.”

She didn’t guess. “So the noises are…”

“Old seaponies. Like Old. Capital O. Ponies who still remember all those fancy ponies you obsess about. Star… craft?”

“Star Swirl the Bearded?”

“Right,” Rainbow said, waving a dismissive fin. “They still remember him. Or I assume they do. They don’t really talk much. But… they do fight. And eat. So… let’s keep moving.” She pointed at the door. “Think you could seal that behind us? I don’t wanna scare you, but I’m pretty sure there’s a whole school of scavengers swimming down the building after us.”

Twilight didn’t need telling twice. She zipped past her friend, lifting the door in her magic and severing who knew how much ancient growth. A little heat from her horn, and it melted onto the doorway, hissing and bubbling where molten metal met the frame.

“I don’t like it here,” Twilight said, her voice feeble. “Let’s just… how do we find Orichalcum? Do you know where you’re going?”

“Not a bubbling clue,” Rainbow said. “But everypony says down is the most dangerous, so it’s probably got the best stuff. Let’s just… see how low we can go.”

“Great plan,” Twilight whispered, defeated. She had no choice but to follow.

If Twilight closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was back in the Underworld.

Some part of her wondered if there might be some physical connection after all—maybe swimming down deep enough through this ancient ruin would eventually bring her to the boundary between the living and dead, where everything she knew dissolved into fiction.

I’m immortal now, she reminded herself. I might as well get to know it all sooner rather than later. If Celestia isn’t going to tell me about it all, this is the only way.

She wanted to come back to Kumari, that she knew without thinking. The Dinori had seemed friendly, and the music she heard coming from distant parlors above had been even more enticing.

But when she did, she wouldn’t swim down.

The tunnels were arranged like the ancient city above, structured with mad rules that she couldn’t wrap her mind around. Even the shapes of the curves were hard to look at, and the strange junctions between one tunnel and the next. She felt slightly sick just seeing the geometry, and so she tried to just watch her friend’s retreating tail.

Rainbow Dash might be scary, but at least her brain could understand scary. This place… was something else.

“Seaponies don’t come down here very often,” she said, as they emerged from one tunnel into a large open atrium. It was filled with broken glass, and metal machines long since gone to decay. But hot water kept flowing through the pipes overhead, and that was the source of all life. Tiny shellfish, and even smaller shrimp that surrounded them.

At least they didn’t look terrifying to Twilight. “Didn’t you say there were… only expeditions every now and then?”

This time Rainbow didn’t turn around, she just swam over the corroded metal balcony and down the drop into the atrium. Past the metal, she picked the widest doorway and swam that way. “Maybe going in a little group isn’t as stupid as I thought,” she said. “When there’s an expedition, it’s like a hundred fish, all armed. They always get attacked, and fish always die. The number of scavengers is…” She shivered. “I’ve never been part of it. Fish are never gonna believe I went down here. I mean… past the top. There are a few safe entrances, and every fish tries one of those sooner or later. Just enough to see how awful it is to be here, then go right back into the light.”

How close to sunrise are we, anyway? Twilight would feel the spell start to unravel, and she was fairly sure it wasn’t. Only her sanity was faltering so far. But if she kept going… maybe it would be worse.

Twilight hadn’t noticed at first, but as they entered the next tunnel, there was a distinct transition. Stone was entirely replaced with something else, neither metal nor wood. It was smooth, but when she touched it, there was a slight give to it as well. It had stayed so white, despite who knew how long it had been down here.

Maybe we’re getting close. All these alchemical secrets down here, might be together in one place. They would change the world if she could bring them back. But just like every other secret Twilight had learned in the last week, she probably never would.

It wasn’t her secret to reveal.

“This water smells… weird,” Rainbow said, slowing from just up ahead and baring her teeth down the hall. The water was getting warmer by the moment, which Twilight took to be the evidence of getting near the planet’s crust. More heat meant more life. Nothing grew on the white walls, but where they met the stone floor, there was the usual crustaceans. Instead of a single pipe on the ceiling, more and more seemed to be joining in, traveling together towards… something. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“No,” Twilight argued, gesturing up with a fin. “See that up there? The heat all these little creatures are living on, it’s coming from down here. Magic… still working, despite all this time. Are there any songs about the magic down here?”

“Yes,” Rainbow answered. “So dangerous that every fish with sense stays away. Just like coming down here in general.” Twilight didn’t have to guess if her heart was racing—she could watch the rapid contractions in Rainbow’s chest. She, the toothy, spiny, deep-sea nightmare creature, was afraid.

Twilight forced back her own fear, wrapping one foreleg around her friend’s shoulder, careful to avoid the spines there. “Rainbow, it’ll be fine. I might not know the ocean, but I know magic. If there’s anything, I’ll protect us. Just stay with me. I’m going to need your help to find my way out of this place.”

“Out,” Rainbow Dash repeated, though she clutched against Twilight with uncharacteristic openness. “If we live… that’ll be great. Swimming back out. Then maybe… I can take you to an acrobatics show. Or the temple, or… somewhere safe?”

“Sure, Rainbow. When we’re done here, we’ll go somewhere safe.” Probably back to the surface. But she didn’t want to discourage her. If Rainbow swam away now, she’d have to follow, and probably give up any chance of finding the Orichalcum. If she gave up and turned around, she’d probably never have the courage to come back here.

Twilight led the way into the gloom.

She didn’t have much further to go into the darkness before the space started to open up again. A steady current of warm water began to drift past her, lifting her fins and scattering the little creatures trying to move closer. Twilight tucked her body in, gritting her teeth and concentrating on forward motion.

She let go of Rainbow’s foreleg, slipping behind her instead. That gigantic body served another use—each stroke of her tail brought them closer to a doorway. And beyond it… light.

Brilliant white light, so bright that she was almost blinded. They passed through several slits and openings in the wall, with curved blades that seemed to be directing the water outward. Then they were through, and Twilight’s furious pace nearly made her smack into the far wall.

After a few painful seconds, her eyes adjusted, though from the way Rainbow withdrew she didn’t think her body was very well suited to traveling down so deep.

What kind of terrible place would be at the bottom of all this? Magic so old that even the seaponies are afraid of it…

The space they occupied was certainly unusual, more of those high ceilings with the strange irregularity in support columns. But where so much of what she’d seen had fallen to complete disrepair, this was different. The alien writing on the walls was almost freshly painted. There were no crustaceans growing on the walls, no algae turning the water green. What was more, the objects here were mechanical, and clearly functional. Far below, a metal shape much larger than a cart was twisted in strange, bent-over curves, curling around like a doughnut.

It hummed quietly, the same way Celestia did when she raised the sun in the morning. Twilight’s magical reserves were instantly filled, and whatever fear she felt about her transformation ending unexpectedly vanished.

A voice spoke, echoing through the water around them. Twilight could make no sense of what it said, any more than the writing. But it seemed friendly.

“What was that?” Twilight asked. “Do you speak… deep-seapony?”

“No.” Rainbow shook her head. “It’s… too sacred. I haven’t been through the temple yet.”

Whatever, it didn’t matter. Twilight wasn’t here to solve every mystery in the world. She only needed a cure. A reddish metal… there.

Near the strange magical artifact, there was something like an assembly line. Machines whirred and clanked, and from them, bit-sized squares of metal emerged. No sooner did they appear than little mechanical arms grabbed them, and stole them down into greater darkness.

Twilight swam over, aiming her horn at the cube. She watched patiently, as the voice from around them continued to speak into the water. It wasn’t very good at being understood, either. More like a pony shouting into the water than a seapony’s song.

The next metal bar dropped out of a chute, bubbling as it touched the water. Twilight’s horn flashed, and the cube never hit the sensors.

Then an alarm started blaring. Twilight winced, as the even white light was replaced with flashing red.

“I think you made it mad,” Rainbow said, circling around her. “Maybe we should…”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, gesturing above them. A wide shaft, with red arrows pointing to it. If that’s not an emergency exit, I don’t know what is. “Come on! This way!” They swam.

Twilight broke the surface of the water at Princessport docks just a little before sunrise. The water all around her was black and brackish. She shook herself out, then levitated out of the water and onto the docks. She kept her tiny bar of metal tucked away in her mane, where none of the passing ponies would see her.

“Honestly…” whispered a fisherman, hauling his empty nets towards the dock. “There were visitors from Equestria here yesterday. A pony might see you.” He flicked his tail angrily towards the dock buildings. “Any of those. Not out in the open like that. Foals today…” And he was off, apparently not even noticing her combination of horn and wings.

A few moments later, Rainbow Dash emerged from what looked like a shipping warehouse, a towel wrapped around her mane and a little damp, but otherwise fully pony again. Twilight half-expected to see that awful toothy face again, but no. Once they’d left the Tehuti Ruins, she had returned to the decidedly un-frightening seapony.

“Can’t believe we actually did it,” she declared, walking beside Twilight towards the inn. “No pony or fish is going to believe it.”

“Maybe not,” Twilight agreed. “But they don’t have to.”

“Let me know how that cure thing goes,” Rainbow said, shrugging one wing. “I’m uh… probably not going to ride the train back with you. Way too slow. And probably don’t mention this to anypony else? Except… other fish. And if you want to come back with me next year…” Rainbow nudged her shoulder, then winced when she realized how wet Twilight still was.

“Sure, Rainbow. So long as we don’t have to go down there again.”

“Deal.”

Chapter 5.1: Spring

“So how long do you think it will take for things to go back to normal?” Spike asked, as they stepped off the train into Ponyville proper. There was nopony in the station with them except for the janitor and some off-duty railway staff—everypony left on the morning train, they wouldn’t be back until evening. “Because it feels like you didn’t even tell me the craziest parts.”

You’re not wrong. Spike had only a general idea about most things, and most of that he’d read indirectly from her. “I don’t know,” she admitted. She’d even let him ride on her back, a silent apology for not taking him. Though he hadn’t fought that hard to join her there, it was probably still for the better. “Soon, I hope. I miss Equestria when it made sense.”

“Now I know you’re not serious.” He hopped off her back, staring up at her incredulously. “You’re always learning new things about magic, about friendship. This crazy new stuff is only going to give you more to study.”

At least her library hadn’t been frozen in ice, or burned to the ground, or otherwise destroyed while she was gone. Ponyville looked the way she always remembered it.

She wasn’t surprised to see a light on in the window as she got close. The door was locked, but she knew better than to think the one inside would need it. She opened it anyway, leaving the sign twisted to “closed” as she walked in.

Rarity sat in the front hall of the library, wearing an oversized hat and sipping at tea from one of Twilight’s own cups. “Oh, you’re back,” she said, as though she’d been sitting there for days.

“Rarity,” Spike said from behind her, voice drifting. “You’re here?”

“I am,” she said. “I know how this is going to sound, but do you think you could give the two of us some privacy for a moment? I’ll be very grateful.”

“Of course, Rarity.” Spike retreated towards the stairs. “For you, anything.” He walked up towards their bedroom, never taking his eyes from Rarity until they were out of sight.

Twilight clicked her tongue, disapproving. “You know how he feels about you.”

She nodded. “Obviously. I’ve seen puppy love before.”

“And you still think it’s okay to…” She flicked her tail towards the stairs.

“Did he look unhappy?” Rarity levitated over a glass towards the other seat. “Spike isn’t what I’ve come to discuss.”

“Yeah.” She lifted the saddlebags from her shoulders, then sat down. She sipped at the tea, letting something familiar and comfortable wash over her tongue. We’re almost done. Rarity will have her half, I have mine. We can make the cure and be done.

“I heard you went to Princessport,” Rarity said. “I can’t imagine any other reason to be in that dreadful place, unless you had a lead.”

In answer, Twilight lifted the metal bar from her bag, settling it on the table next to her tea. “This?”

Rarity’s cup clattered to the table. Her mouth opened and closed silently a few times, like she’d become a fish herself. Then she seemed to come to her senses, hastily sponging up her spill and looking away. “Y-you’ll have to forgive me, Twilight. I just… Celestia preserve us, you didn’t let anypony see that, did you?”

Twilight shook her head, then levitated the library blinds closed behind them. “Why would that matter?”

“That’s a lot more than… we need.” She reached out with a hoof, nudging the bar, then quickly pulling it back again. “There’s more here than in Celestia’s regalia.”

I wonder what she’d think of the factory. But Twilight had been keeping all her friends’ secrets, and she wouldn’t reveal this one.

“We’ll see what’s left when we’re done curing your sister,” Twilight said. “Did you find the… Moly?”

“Well… yes.” Rarity nodded towards a book behind her, levitating it down onto the table between them. It had a Canterlot Archives label on the spine, not one of her own collection.

Rarity flipped it open. “The plant was known by the ancient masters, particularly Mage Meadowbrook, who wrote about it extensively as being the cure for many aliments. But…”

Twilight took the book in her magic, turning it over. There was the plant, sketched by the hoof of Meadowbrook herself. White flowers, black roots, endowed with magical properties. She skipped to the bottom of the page.

“The herb could be found only within the Grove of Eris, where only a few sprigs could be harvested every year. When Discord emerged and set his throne in Equestria, Eris Grove was destroyed. No sample of Moly ever appeared since.”

She dropped the book roughly onto the table, looking down in frustration. “So what you’re saying is, we did all this for nothing. The plant we need for the cure is already extinct. We’re bucked.”

Rarity patted her gently on the shoulder. “You’re going through exactly the same line of reasoning, Twilight. At first that was precisely what I thought. But then I did some digging. You know vampires aren’t the only dangerous creatures that haunt Equestria, yes?”

Twilight actually laughed, so loud that the whole tree started to shake. She felt good—it was the first time something had genuinely amused her in two weeks.

“Yes,” she said, when she’d finished. “I heard that. What kind of dangerous creature are we going to this time? Kirin? Progenitors? Umbrum? Changelings?”

“Nearly.” Rarity eyed her, apparently unsure if Twilight was taking her seriously. “It’s amazing what you can find in the public record.” Rarity rose to her hooves, lifting a long-discolored tube and settling it on the table between them. A sample case, the kind used for holding ancient documents.

Twilight sat back, wincing slightly as Rarity mishandled what was inside. She unrolled too quickly, in ways that would probably damage the ancient paper inside. Somehow she’d got her hooves on something that looked as old as Canterlot itself, maybe older.

“What is…” She stared over the edge of the table, leaning in close so she could read the ancient script.

It was written in Ponish, though the letters were packed in so close she could barely read. Everything was scrolled in elegant black ink, all the way down to the bottom. Once unrolled, it settled right in front of Twilight, so she could see the signatures.

Celestia’s own was there, Luna’s… and four others written in a cycle that twisted their letters together like a wheel. “The princesses of Equestria have a treaty with… Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall?” Her eyebrows went up. “Even for my last week, this is silly.”

“It wasn’t in the fiction section,” Rarity said, glaring up at her. “This is one of our fundamental documents. Read it.”

She did. It took well over an hour, so long that Spike came down more than once. Rarity left her to it, conversing with him politely about how her business was doing and her planned Canterlot expansion, always in the backburner.

Eventually Twilight finished, sitting back from the document with wide eyes. It was written in the same language as so many other old treaties, meaning much of what it discussed no longer made sense to her. What was a right of wander and the bequeathment of duels? Those and many more promises were made between “The Noble Ponies of Equestria,” and “The seasons four, and those who feel their touch.”

“Well?” Rarity asked, sitting down across from her. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

Twilight shrugged. “I was always more into the sciences than politics, Rarity. Just about the only part of this that makes sense to me is the requirement that ponies be able to find it anytime they wish and understand the terms. That explains how you brought it here. But… how does this help us find an extinct plant?”

“Not us unfortunately.” Rarity winced, avoiding her eyes. “Look at section 3; subsection C.”

Twilight did, rolling up from the bottom until only the top of the treaty was visible to her. Section three was about “Conflicts, arrangements, and resolution.”

3.C Prayers for Relief, Beseachments, etcetera

The noble officiators of the seasonal court should not be harassed by the uninvited attention of Equestrians. Should contact be required for arrangement public or private, an Alicorn may request it on behalf of the pony in need, so long as she returns to her own soil by sunrise of the following day.

Likewise if a member of the seasonal court requires remittance…

Twilight stopped reading, looking up. “I don’t even know what this is. But it says here that an Alicorn can go and… talk to them. Whoever they are. Seasonal magic…”

Spike rose from the table, glaring down at the scroll. “That’s it, I’ve heard enough. I know where this is going.” He turned to the kitchen. “I’ve got chores to do.” He left before they could say another word.

Rarity waited until he was gone. “They’re using euphemism,” Rarity said. “It was polite back then, because their true name was a slur. I think this treaty comes at the end of a terrible war between our worlds, but the details are all lost to time. They’re furies—the Seelie, Unseelie, whichever. I’ve honestly never met them before.”

Twilight’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve never met them, but you think this is a way for us to get that extinct plant?”

“For you to get it, yes,” Rarity said. “It’s still spring, at least until…” She glanced past Twilight, to the calendar pinned to the wall there. “Oh. Two days until the solstice. Well that isn’t ideal.”

“Just give me a straight answer,” Twilight said weakly. “I’m on your side, Rarity. I’m trying to help. But I’m way behind. It’s a lot to catch up on in a few weeks.”

“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “You read the treaty. What did it say?”

“That pony magic to control the seasons comes from the Immortal Courts of Spring, Summer, Winter, and—”

“Yes,” Rarity interrupted. “There are old legends… not as interesting to me, since I’ve never needed to hunt fae before. But their powers are well known. Spring is said to be the master of all growing things—those that are, were, and are to come.”

“And if I visit them in spring, then I’ll get to see her instead of one of the other seasons,” Twilight finished.

Rarity nodded. “That’s the gist of it, yes. Visit the fae, beg the spring queen for relief. A new princess like yourself, with such a minor request… there’s no way she wouldn’t grant it! Assuming… any of this is even real. Maybe it’s meant to be historical metaphor.”

Twilight looked up, glaring at her. “It is real. After what it took to find the Orichalcum, we’re finishing this.”

Rarity nodded gratefully. “I’ve been comparing notes on the ritual for about a week now. I’ll have it all ready by tomorrow. Just meet me at dawn, at the threshold to the Everfree. Try not to let Fluttershy notice you, if you can. It would be better not to worry her with dangers like ours.”

“Right,” Twilight said flatly. “She’d be just broken, I’m sure.”

Chapter 5.2: Beseechment

Twilight had only a single night to rest from her trip under the ocean. She slept uneasily, particularly with the tiny bar of metal under her pillow. She hadn’t ever had anything so valuable before, but considering everything riding on it, she couldn’t take the chance that something might happen.

Her alarm woke her an hour before dawn, with shrill beeping that echoed through the room and caused Spike to groan and roll over. “It’s not even light yet,” Spike moaned, covering his head with his pillow.

“Sorry, Spike,” Twilight whispered. “You can go back to bed. But…” She lifted the metal bar from under her pillow, settling it down next to him. “I have something for you to protect while I’m gone. I need you to hold on to this, okay? This is what I went to Princessport to get. Make sure it’s here for me when I get back, okay?”

Spike looked up, then down to the metal bar. “You want me to protect… that?”

She nodded. “Promise me. We got it for Rarity, I’m going to tell her you’re guarding it.”

“Then I’ll guard it,” he said, taking it in one claw. “You’re going somewhere magical again?”

She nodded grimly. “Hopefully for the last time. Feels like I’m about to end up somewhere I don’t want to be. I’m going somewhere under mysterious circumstances into powers I don’t understand. That’s what always happened this last week.”

“Be safe,” Spike said, hugging her. She returned the embrace, then let him get back to bed.

Few ponies were up so early, even in Ponyville. She could see a few weather ponies up in the sky, preparing for the imminent transition from spring to summer. But they wouldn’t be flying down to stop her.

There was only a single pony out on the streets, one who happened to be going the same way. At first she thought it might be Rarity, but as she got closer she could see the pony concealed by gloom was pushing a dessert-cart, limiting her speed on the cobblestone road.

Twilight caught up, slowing a little as she saw the one pushing. “Early morning sweets delivery, Pinkie?” The tray was packed with every sweet thing Twilight could think of—pastries and cupcakes and doughnuts and other desserts she had no names for. The order was so large it barely fit on all three levels of the tray. “Someone has quite the sweet tooth.”

Pinkie beamed in response, practically drooling whenever she looked up at the contents of her tray. But she hadn’t eaten anything off it yet. “I didn’t think so, but… I guess I need to make a few corrections in my party file.”

The road leading through the west of Ponyville only led to a few destinations, once they left the rest of the city proper behind. The school, which would be empty at this hour. And Fluttershy’s cabin. “Maybe it’s for her animals,” Twilight suggested. “Can animals eat sugar like this?”

“Not most of it,” Pinkie said. “Animals have different tastes than ponies. But… it isn’t for Fluttershy. Would you believe Rarity ordered all this? And she wants it delivered right outside the Everfree?” She lowered her voice to a mischievous whisper. “I dunno what kind of secret party she’s planning, but you have to keep it secret. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Twilight promised. “I was going that way anyway, I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” Pinkie’s eyebrows went up. “This isn’t another secret surprise party, is it? That didn’t work out so good last time.”

“It’s not,” she promised. “Or I don’t think it is. Rarity didn’t get very specific with me.”

Pinkie went back to her usual carefree bouncing. “Then the mystery deepens. A party so secret even the guests don’t know. Like a… double surprise party! Or maybe it’s a triple surprise, and not even Rarity knows!”

Outside Ponyville the road went from cobblestone to dirt, but Pinkie just kept pushing her cart. The first twinges of orange were just starting to break the horizon when the Everfree finally came into view. Rarity was waiting on the road, hiding in the trees so she wouldn’t be visible from the cabin. Fluttershy didn’t seem to be up yet.

“Do you see any party with those fancy new Alicorn eyes?” Pinkie asked.

“Nope.”

“Hmm.” Pinkie watched Rarity skeptically. “She better have a good explanation for this.”

They crossed the rest of the distance at a brisk trot. Twilight made sure Pinkie had her attention fixed on Rarity, then surrounded them with a bubble of silence. The cart’s loud metal creaks and rumbles wouldn’t penetrate to the cabin beyond.

“I have your order,” Pinkie said, stopping just inside the trees and holding out a sheet of paper. “Two dozen assorted doughnuts, six snickerdoodles, six chocolate chip—”

Rarity signed at the bottom of the sheet, passing it back with a check already filled-out. “It looks good, Pinkie. Thanks so much. And I did mean what I said about the discretion. I’d rather nopony else finds out about this.”

“Twilight found out,” Pinkie pointed out. “She’s right here, see?”

“Yes, I do.” Rarity gestured. “I’ll bring the cart back in an hour or so, would that be alright? We need to take care of this ourselves.”

Pinkie nodded reluctantly. “I guess I could. Wouldn’t you rather have me help? I’m really good at parties!”

“It’s not a party,” Rarity said. “Honestly. I think you’d be terribly bored.”

“If you say so.” Pinkie took a few steps back. “Mystery ponies with a whole party’s worth of food, hiding in the Everfree. Nothing suspicious about this.”

“We’re helping ponies,” Twilight said. “That’s the important part.”

“If you say so!” Pinkie turned, bouncing away down the path.

But they didn’t stay to watch her go. Instead Rarity gestured into the Everfree. “We don’t have to go very far. I’ve prepared everything, there’s a clearing this way. Could you levitate the cart for me? Don’t spill, we don’t have many backups.”

Twilight did as she was told, and did something she’d always been told never to do in the Everfree.

They left the path.

Even knowing Ponyville was so close, a few steps were all it took to transform the world to a maze of trees and thick brambles, obscuring the way they’d come and any trace of the forest’s end. It always seemed like the Everfree had its own agenda: it didn’t want ponies to leave.

But there was a clearing, just as Rarity said. There was a pond at its center, with a towering willow tree beside it.

“Took me awhile to find it,” Rarity admitted. “Two days of searching. You won’t believe how muddy I got.” Rarity stopped beside something so small Twilight had almost missed it: a circle of fat white mushrooms in the grass.

Rarity had arranged various flat stones around the circle, with four of the largest set at the points of the compass. It was ritual magic if ever Twilight had seen it, though it was certainly the most esoteric spell she’d ever seen arranged. Each of the senses were represented along the outside, with little musical instruments, burning incense. Rarity began levitating the food down into the empty quadrant of the spell, to go with the packets of seeds that had already been there.

“How often do rituals like this actually do anything?” Twilight asked, taking in the whole thing in just a few seconds. “I’m not sure this will work…”

“I know it seems far-fetched,” Rarity answered, rising from the ground a second later. Most of the food was still on the tray—exactly six of each item she’d ordered in every case. “But I trust my sources on this. You wouldn’t if I told you how I knew… but you’re rather new at this, as you said. And if I’m wrong, I suppose we’ll have to use this to throw a surprise party just as Pinkie said.”

She gestured to the point of the circle, the transition between the food and seeds and green of spring and the flames and dried grain of summer. “Stand there, if you would. Don’t touch anything yet! I’ll give you the words in a moment.”

“Okay,” Twilight said, walking slowly around the circle. “I really don’t like how superstitious this looks, but… I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately.” She sat down just past all the objects, looking in at the ring of mushrooms. “Why not just make this a spell diagram? All these somatic components…”

“Because it doesn’t need a unicorn to cast, I think,” Rarity answered. “Anypony can call the fair folk, it’s just that they’re only required to answer you. Which is… I suppose this is the time I warn you about what you’re about to do.”

Twilight nodded. “You think?”

“Well, take every promise seriously. Don’t ever say anything you know is a lie around them, that’s said to always make them furious. And… you aren’t carrying any cold iron, are you?”

“Uh…” She glanced down at herself. “I’m naked, Rarity. And it’s already seventy out. It wouldn’t be cold.”

“That’s not what…” She cleared her throat. “Nevermind, you don’t have any, so that’s not an issue. Just be quite certain that you return before sunrise, and you don’t make any agreements with anypony you meet that you don’t intend to keep. It doesn’t matter how impossible their promises sound—expect them to be enforced. Other than that, there’s not much more I can tell you. They swear ponies to secrecy who deal with them, even the princesses. I’m sure when you return you won’t be able to expand our knowledge much. But if you bring the herb, that’s all that matters.”

She levitated a slip of paper over to Twilight, written in her own elegant script. “So what, I just read this? No actual spell at all?”

Rarity nodded. “That’s what they say. We’ve done everything else correctly, as far as my sources suggest. If this works, we’ll be able to confirm that part of the myth anyway. Just read it, and the fae who rules over spring should appear inside.”

There’s no way this does buckin’ anything, Twilight thought. She’d seen some incredible things over the last week, gone places that she didn’t think could exist. But all that had been real magic. The more of this she saw, the more it looked like desperate superstition. I’m sorry we won’t be able to cure your sister, Rarity. It’s not Sweetie’s fault. There might be other magical methods they could use when this failed—historical studies of the destroyed land, or maybe consulting with Discord directly.

But that could wait. Twilight held out the sheet of paper and began to read.

“You’re, uh… you got the last line wrong,” said a voice from behind her. Twilight spun around, and wasn’t entirely surprised to see a pink pony standing there.

Of course you didn’t go home. You were too curious about Rarity’s secret party.

“Pinkie dear, I’m terribly sorry, but we do need some privacy. If you could leave us a moment, I promise to explain everything I can when we’re finished.”

Pinkie ignored her, stepping right up beside Twilight. She had a quill—Twilight didn’t question where she’d got it—and she crossed out a few words of the poem, writing new ones.

“There,” Pinkie declared, beaming at them both. “Go now.”

“How?” Twilight asked, eyes wide. “How do you know?”

“Twilight, I don’t think we should be encouraging her. She’ll just get more interested in what we’re doing. We can’t possibly perform the spell while she’s here.”

Pinkie kept ignoring her. “It’s an old earth pony thing. Granny Pie taught me when I was a filly. Never anger the earth if you want her to give you a good harvest.”

She was probably right about her corrections—but that also meant this was just superstition. Twilight cleared her throat, then read a second time, this time using Pinkie’s corrections.

As before, there were no magical effects, at least not the kind of magic she was used to. The wind in the untamed Everfree canopy faded to the background, and one by one all the nearby birds fell silent.

Even Rarity held still, until Twilight had finished. “See, this is what I meant. There aren’t supposed to be too many witnesses… Pinkie dear, I don’t think you should—”

But Pinkie was still ignoring her. With a single bounce, Pinkie leapt over the ritual circle and landed right in the center of the ring, facing Twilight.

In an instant, every component of the ritual vanished. The fires went out, the little wind chimes disappeared, and the plates of sweets were empty. Except for a little frosting on Pinkie’s upper lip.

Twilight’s eyes widened, searching the clearing around them. It wasn’t just the food—Rarity was gone now too, and the path they’d taken through the Everfree was no longer there. The trees seemed even larger than she was used to, towering and ominous.

“The protectors of Equestria call for the ones who guard the seasons four,” Pinkie sang, her voice melodic. And just like that, she looked different too. There were little sprigs of living plants in her mane, turning it green at the roots. And she had a crown—a wreath of flowers, seeming to float above her head. “For spring and every growing thing, I hear you.”

Twilight’s mouth hung open, slack-jawed. Pinkie didn’t pressure her—for a minute or more she just stood there. Every few seconds something sweet appeared in her hooves, and she ate it with her usual relish. Then she’d reach to the edge of the circle, grab something else from empty air, and repeat the ritual. Six times for each item.

“Pinkie,” she finally said. “You’ll… have to give me a minute. I’ve had so many existential resets in the last week that I’m having trouble identifying reality.”

Pinkie sat back on her haunches, grinning. “The Alicorn came to the wrong place for clarity. Faewyld’s trees grow tall, and the wind whispers all the old songs. What was matters more than what is.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. You’re probably serious about that somehow. At least going under the ocean had made sense, in its own strange way. Those were just ponies with fewer legs.

I don’t need to understand this place. I don’t need to stay. “Pinkie,” she said, clearing her throat and looking directly at her friend. So long as she didn’t let her attention wander outside the circle, she didn’t have to see how strange the world got.

“I’ve come because I need to find something, an ancient herb that’s long gone. Rarity thinks that the Spring Queen can help us. I think they call it ‘Moly,’ it’s got black roots and—”

Pinkie finished eating, licking her lips with characteristic vigor. Then she stepped out of the circle, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I know what you’re asking. Do you?”

She didn’t give Twilight a chance to answer, just bounced past her to the edge of the large willow tree. Its leaves were no longer green, but deep purple, though it looked like the same tree in every other way.

“No,” Twilight admitted. “I don’t even know what just happened. I don’t know where we are, or what you are, or any of this. But that’s just been my life for the last week, I can do it one more time.”

“Not that.” Pinkie looked away, expression distant and troubled. “Even if we’re friends, I can’t just give it to you. There are others—a court I answer to, and the other seasons. I have to follow all the old laws.”

“What does it take?” Twilight asked, rising sluggishly to her hooves. “Another incredible quest to the end of the world, right? I need to gather twelve gemstones of chaos, and unite them under the full moon using the blood of a goat, or…”

Pinkie started laughing, the most familiar thing she’d done so far. Her giggle echoed through the clearing, and through the forest all around them. “No,” she finally said, settling a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Nothing like that. You’re not asking to see into outer darkness, or create love where there was none. A plant is easy.”

“Then what?” Twilight asked. “I’m not supposed to tell you why, but it’s really important I get it.”

Pinkie let go, turning away from her. “You have to come to the garden and pick it yourself. Then make it back to Equestria before sunrise.”

That’s it? Twilight hurried to catch up with her. She didn’t know the Everfree that well, but she had a good sense Pinkie was traveling the wrong way. But as she reached the edge of the clearing, thick brambles and dense shrubs all moved out of the way, opening in a decorative arch onto a cobblestone path just wide enough for two ponies to walk.

“I can take you to the garden,” Pinkie said. “But that’s all. The solstice is tonight, you might know. It’s the second-most important party of my season.”

“Your season,” Twilight repeated. “How is… Are you allowed to tell me what’s going on here?”

“That depends,” Pinkie answered, beaming. “Can you keep a secret?”

Chapter 5.3: Solstice

Twilight had never seen this trail through the Everfree before—as a matter of fact, she was positive it didn’t exist. But considering everything else around them, a road that shouldn’t be there was the least of her worries.

The forest had very little in common with the one she knew. Most of the trees towered overhead, as tall as some castles and wider across at their trunks than ten ponies standing in a line. Their leaves spread wide overhead, and their bark was dark red.

“Rarity told me I shouldn’t make any promises I can’t keep,” she said. “But I’m really just here to get the plant. I think I’ve given up trying to understand everywhere I end up. But it…” She hesitated. “I think for once this might answer more questions about you than it raises. The Pinkie sense… that’s connected to this, isn’t it? The way you always seem to get your hooves on things right when you need them…”

Pinkie nodded. “I might not have shared everything about my cutie mark story with you before. But now that you’re here…” She gestured with a hoof up at the forest. “You can see where I ended up.”

Twilight nodded. “So you’re not… thousands of years old, part of the ancient history of Equestria?”

“The Spring Queen is,” Pinkie answered. “And the world before that, and the one before that. We’ve always had seasons here, and always the same ones. But the ones who wear the crowns are different. Their interpretations are different. Some winters are peaceful and relaxed, while some springs drown whole cities in rain, making rivers burst their banks and drowning every field.”

Twilight swallowed, unable to meet her eyes. “Equestria runs its own seasons, don’t we? Pegasus ponies, and earth pony magic, and even unicorn spells in some parts. Though Celestia does the real work by angling the sun right, controlling the amount of light the planet gets. Everypony else is really just picking up a few extra pieces.”

Pinkie shrugged. “Lots of ponies let their friends help with what’s important. Ponies are better at keeping promises than some of the ones who came before.”

Twilight heard something then, a howling in the trees not far away. It wasn’t wolves, or even timberwolves. It sounded too intelligent for that, enough that it could hate more than just feel hungry. “What the hay is that?”

“Who.” Pinkie nudged her forward with one leg. “Don’t stop. They can’t hurt me, but you’re a stranger. They’ll be waiting for you when you leave the garden.”

Twilight shuddered, then hurried forward to keep up. “Are we in the Everfree? Or is this some other world?”

“Yes,” Pinkie said unhelpfully. “That’s why you had to go to the Everfree to call me. Here ponies don’t control. The seasons and the weather and the animals all do what they wish. Anyplace like it, our worlds still touch. We have old treaties, signed a long time before I was born, requiring Equestria to respect these places, not to try and conquer them. That’s why Celestia allows somewhere so dangerous to exist so close to her ponies. We need recruits, and ponies need to remember where their power comes from. Or else they’ll be found unworthy of the trust they’ve been given, and it will be taken away.”

Twilight didn’t argue, though it didn’t sound right to her. From everything she knew, pony magical abilities were innate, imbued from birth. Only powerful dark magic could take it away, even temporarily.

But this wasn’t her treaty to break, just like the one Celestia had made with the seaponies. If her mentor thought the world should keep working this way, all she could do was try and understand it.

At least the path seemed to be leading somewhere. Not just deeper into the unfamiliar trees, but towards a place.

It was wrong to call it a castle—there were no fortifications, no stone towers. The structure looked to be built from living wood, a little like the library she lived in. But while her home still looked basically like a tree, this palace only had passing resemblance to one. It was at least three stories, with wide windows of mostly opaque glass and vines growing slowly around the outside, like a tree being strangled by mistletoe.

Somehow night had already come to the place, and light shone from inside its windows. There were even more in the expansive courtyard behind it, filled with white stone statues and many figures engrossed in quiet conversation.

No, it isn’t night. That’s shade. The canopy of trees had grown so large above them that the entire mansion and the land around it was in perpetual shadow. But that didn’t make it dark, because many of the plants provided their own light. Glowing yellow and green blossoms surrounded the house in carefully trimmed flowerbeds that sparkled like stars.

“It’s always a shame to give up this place,” Pinkie said, voice wistful and distant. “Until next year. But come on… we can go through the party!” She yanked Twilight by the hoof, dodging between flowerbeds and towards the rear courtyard.

“How did…” Twilight didn’t resist, letting Pinkie yank her along. At this point, she might as well just accept it. “How did you end up ruling a season, Pinkie?”

It wasn’t just flowers this way either, as they got closer Twilight could see that there were guards in attendance too. Earth ponies by the look of them, though they were so big that even Celestia would’ve seemed a little scrawny by comparison. And… was she hallucinating, or were their coats more like stone than fur?

“I’ve been waiting ages to bring one of you here with me,” Pinkie said, unhelpfully. “Wondered if I should send somepony an invitation. Maybe Fluttershy, she seems like she’d enjoy it.”

Twilight bit back her frustration as they passed the massive guards, and saw their heavy stone clubs. Like Pinkie they had green things growing on them, though instead of their manes both of these stallions had moss thick on their backs, broken with a few tiny mushrooms.

Compared to some of the places Twilight had seen so far, this Faewyld didn’t seem so bad.

Through to the courtyard proper, and Twilight could finally see the party in progress. She slowed to a stop, her leg yanking free of Pinkie’s as she continued on, and for a moment she was completely overwhelmed by her senses.

Hanging lanterns overhead filled the courtyard with a swirl of greens and blues and yellows so vibrant that her eyes seemed to lose focus. A band of creatures hidden in shadow played off in one corner, using instruments she had no names for to fill the courtyard with an energetic, swinging beat. But most impressive of all were the tables of food.

Compared to the buffet spread here, the Grand Galloping Gala might as well be offering fast food. There were vegetable platters with arrangements from all over the word, flowers and fresh bread. Exotic food too, with fish of various kinds commonly eaten by griffons and occasionally by pegasus ponies. There was an entire table of dessert, where a few familiar dishes were on one end and little chocolate turtles seemed to swim in a sugary lake.

“Hey,” Pinkie called from in front of her, snapping her hooves together. “Twilight, you still with me?”

She blinked, then shook her head to clear it. “O-oh, yeah. What’s going… right. We’re here for a plant or something, right?”

“A plant or something,” Pinkie repeated. “Let’s… maybe not stay here. I guess it can be pretty overwhelming the first time.”

The party’s guests were just as overwhelming as the celebration itself. There were dozens of creatures here, dressed in paper-thin dresses of flame, or bits of ice strung together by beads of dew. Most of those here had growing things somewhere on their bodies, but not all. Many were ponies, but some were not. Griffons and minotaurs and stranger beings that dressed in thick clothing and kept their faces obscured.

Wherever Pinkie took them, creatures bowed respectfully to them. A few made polite conversation with her for a moment, or asked her for something. But Pinkie just nodded back towards Twilight and kept moving towards the rear of the garden.

Until someone stopped them. He was not a pony, though Twilight couldn’t have said exactly what he was. He walked like a dragon, and wore white robes and a turban on his head. His face was wrapped completely in strips of white cloth, so that only the piercing blue eyes within were visible. And like Pinkie, he had a crown.

A steel band, resting on little thunderclouds that flew above him, occasionally rumbling and flashing within but never striking out.

“Spring, is today the best time to bring guests? The solstice has already begun.”

Pinkie looked up, and nodded politely to him. Despite their difference in size and apparent age, she didn’t bow or prostrate herself. She met his eyes like she wasn’t afraid.

“Thunder,” she answered. “I’ll be returning to the celebration soon. This guest has called by right of contact with the mortal world. It’s still my duty to help her.”

“For a few hours,” the tall figure answered, laughter in his voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of an Alicorn in my court. If she overstays her welcome, I’ll make sure she’s comfortable. For the terms of her exile, at any rate.”

Twilight summoned a defensive spell by reflex—a shield, probably. Her horn glowed slightly, until the figure finally turned. His eyes widened. “As adorable as I remember. Be on your way then, Spring. We will speak again on your return.” He walked back towards the party, much smoother and more gracefully than any dragon.

“I don’t like him,” Twilight muttered, as soon as he was out of earshot. “Why would he threaten me? I only saw the treaty once, but… it looked like it’s important for both sides. Why would he want to take me hostage?”

“He wouldn’t be breaking the treaty,” Pinkie said, taking her leg again and hurrying her past the band, then out of the courtyard and into an expansive garden. It was easily twice as large as anything at Canterlot only she didn’t recognize anything growing here. “You can stay until sunrise, that’s the treaty. If you overstay, then we can keep you a year and a day. I wouldn’t keep you here… but the offense would be committed tomorrow, technically. Which means you’d be Thunder’s to punish.”

At least the name makes sense. “That party… happens every year?”

“Four times a year,” she answered. “When one season dies and the next is born. And the other monarchs have their own things to celebrate. I like to help, and usually they’re pretty fun. Maybe you’ll come back!”

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally. I didn’t actually promise anything, it’s okay. “You didn’t say how you got here, Pinkie. I’ve met your parents! How’d you go from rock farming to…” She trailed off, glancing weakly over her shoulder towards the distant party. “What do they call you, the Queen of Spring?”

“Last one retired,” she said. “When I found my way here… same day I got my cutie mark…” She looked away, eyes glazing over a little. “Every season has its own rules. But Spring only has one: your desires are your own. The last king was tired of ruling your world, and he wanted to move on. I was here, and… I guess he desired somepony new to spice things up. It was the first time a pony ever had the job, and Spring is a season of firsts. New growth, new births, new relationships. New queen.”

This doesn’t make any sense. But she didn’t argue. Maybe when she made it back to Equestria she could make a little more sense of any of it. Or maybe she’d be happier just forgetting and letting it all turn gray in her memory.

“Maybe you can tell me more about it another time,” she said. “I’ve been trying to learn about all these other worlds. I had no idea we had so many neighbors.”

“None as friendly as we are!” Pinkie said cheerfully. “We’re really on the same side, even if we do things a little different. Fae need stories, and we need a place to order. There’s no dream without a dreamer. No season without a forest.”

At least that much makes sense. “You said you could take me to the garden. Can you take me to the part of the garden with the plant I need?”

Pinkie giggled. “Are you sure you aren’t fae after all?” She leaned in close, squinting at her. “I’ve heard Alicorns can’t be. Alright, come on!” She bounced off, through the carefully manicured garden.

They didn’t have very far to go before they reached their goal, a circle of ancient stone pillars connected with tresses overgrown with vines. A perfect cylinder was cut in the trees far above, which somehow seemed to shift to keep the light streaming down even as the sun moved across the sky.

After all that she’d seen, this was the least of Twilight’s worries. A sign outside the garden proclaimed in Old Ponish, “Life that Waits.”

There was only a single entrance to the inner garden, an archway with many thin strands of green blocking it, so that she couldn’t see inside clearly. But brilliant sunlight shone out through the cracks, almost blinding now that her eyes had adjusted to the gloom.

“I have a warning before you go, Twilight. You should always listen when a fae gives you a warning, because we usually don’t. But you’re my friend, and that means I can be nice.”

“Okay,” Twilight said. “In the last week I’ve turned into a good listener. What can’t I do here? It’s the food, isn’t it? I can’t eat fairy food or else I can’t ever go home.”

“Oh, no.” Pinkie giggled. “You’ll just never enjoy mortal food again if you ever taste ours. That’s not so bad.”

Twilight’s ears flattened. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t sneak any.

“Moly is an herb that has been missing from Equestria for a long time. That isn’t the way it should be. It’s been a part of so many good stories. Maybe yours will be one of those that ponies sing about, long after we’re gone. But that isn’t good enough.”

“Okay.” Twilight tried to look around her, to the inner garden. “So what is?”

Pinkie ignored her question. “When you go in there, you may pick only one growing thing. If you take it with you with the desire to see it returned to life in the world outside, then you will make it safely home. But if you pick it for some other reason… then you won’t find your way back. You will still be here come sunrise, and you’ll be trapped.”

Twilight winced. But she couldn’t imagine any reason for Pinkie to lie to her. It didn’t seem like she even could. Maybe Twilight couldn’t either while she was here. “I planned on using it,” Twilight muttered. “That’s the whole reason I came.”

Pinkie shrugged. “I can’t tell you what to do.” She bounced back a few steps. “That’s my warning! Do what you want with it. Equestria is south from here. No matter what way you walk, walk south. You’ll find your way. You have earth pony magic now, the forest should hear you. Follow it home, and don’t get caught here when it’s Thunder’s turn to rule. Please.”

Before Twilight could argue, she was gone, bouncing behind a large hedgerow. In a few seconds, Twilight was left completely alone.

Well this is just fantastic. She’d found her way here—into a place that shouldn’t even exist, to creatures she thought were stories—and it didn’t matter.

Might as well see what I can’t have, she thought, rising and making her way through the archway.

If she’d thought the sun was blinding before, she had to lift a leg to cover her eyes for a few seconds, taking a few deep breaths.

It was a beautiful little garden, quite a bit smaller than she’d expected from the outside. A single fountain in the center bubbled with clear water, dribbling down its sides and into four thin troughs in the dirt, irrigating the plants within.

Every species she recognized here, she knew only from books and stories. There was the Everbloom flower, which could protect whoever wore it on their breast from any harm. The fruit of Knowledge, for which Star Swirl had supposedly given all his wealth for only a single bite.

And there in the corner, the unassuming little weed that she’d come for. Its leaves were so black they lacked definition, more like charcoal sketches than an actual plant. White flowers grew around them, speckled with little flecks of gold.

Twilight made her way over, stopping beside the single thick stalk. It was no wonder Pinkie wanted this replanted in Equestria—there were no others. If she took this with her and used it on Sweetie Belle, then it really would be extinct.

So what do I do? How can I answer a question that can’t be answered? They were so close to a cure—a cure she’d fought for just as hard as Rarity at this point. How could she give it up?

There’s a way out of this, somehow. Pinkie’s words had been exact. She couldn’t take it back with her unless she wanted to see it “returned to life in the world outside.” Anything else and she wouldn’t be able to find her way home.

I don’t want it to be extinct, I don’t have to lie about that. It would be amazing to bring an extinct plant back to life. But how could she tell Rarity that her sister wouldn’t get it?

The solution was staring her in the face.

Plants grow. With a little earth pony magic, they can grow quickly. I’ve got lots of friends who could help. I bet Pinkie would. Could she get it back, then keep it away from Rarity long enough to grow the replacement?

It’s part of the deal. She’ll understand that.

Twilight reached down near the base of the herb, then stopped. There were steps to this, steps she had learned while working around the Apple farm. I have to wash the roots, then wrap them in something damp. If they dry out or I physically damage them, the plant will die.

Twilight stepped out of the garden, leaving the Moly exactly where she’d found it growing. There had to be something she could use to hold it around here somewhere. I probably should’ve packed something. But what did a pony pack when they were leaving their world behind for a few hours?

“Well that’s a face I didn’t expect to find here,” said a voice from nearby.

Twilight stopped dead, eyes narrowing as the speaker approached. Not walked so much as floated. She knew him, of course. There was no forgetting Discord. “Shouldn’t you be with Fluttershy?”

“I am,” he answered, holding out one arm in front of her. She could see right through it to the plants on either side. “But if I was there, I’d miss you. The constraints of a single-instance existence are for ponies.”

She backed away from him, watching nervously. She had no illusions about Discord’s intentions. If he was here, it could only be because he planned on causing trouble. “I’m busy,” she said. “You should go to the party. It looks fun.”

“Would that I could,” he said, voice wistful. “But I’ve been very naughty back on Equus. You may’ve seen some of… well, let’s just say they’re very boring when it comes to the rules around here. They don’t want to see me again until… I honestly don’t know. Too long.”

“Smart,” Twilight muttered. “Go bother somepony else. I’m here to save a pony’s life.”

“You’re here to take it away, if we’re getting technical,” Discord said. He drifted past her, still a ghostly echo. But his voice was still clear. The accusation was even clearer. But what he’d said about being trapped was apparently true too, because he hadn’t cast any spells, or done any other terrifying things to her. Maybe he wasn’t here to ruin things for her. “You should think about it—the pony is eager to grow up now, but how do you think she’ll feel about it in sixty years. Do you think she’ll thank you when she’s rotting away?”

How the buck do you know about her? But Twilight didn’t ask. Discord was likely to ask for something in exchange, and that wasn’t the most important thing right now. “I don’t know—”

Somewhere far away, so far that she could only make it out distantly, the music came to a screeching, atonal halt.

Discord raised a claw, clucking his tongue. “Careful with that, Princess. It almost sounded like you were about to lie. I wouldn’t do that here if I were you.”

“I dislike you intensely,” she spat. “And I wish you’d leave me alone.”

The music resumed, a little less energetically than last time. She’d have to hope that it was enough.

“They always hate the ones who give bad news,” Discord said, voice distant and wistful. “But I’m only telling you the truth. Did you even ask her if she wanted your cure? Did you ask Rarity if she asked permission?”

She opened her mouth to respond—but stopped herself short this time. “No,” she admitted.

“You’ve done some amazing things,” Discord said. “Don’t think I haven’t been watching. Equestria is an interesting place. Its princesses do their best to keep things as boring as they can, but they don’t do the best job.”

Twilight sat back on her haunches, glancing back again towards the herb garden. “She wants her sister cured,” she said. Not breaking a promise. Discord already knew. “She knows best.”

“You say that,” Discord said. “Just do yourself a favor and ask before you make the damn thing, alright? Would be a terrible waste of all that hard work if you made a potion nopony will drink. There are other uses for what you’ve learned.”

He wants something.

“I’m not letting you go,” Twilight snapped, and this time there was no lie in her reflex. “I know what you want for Equestria. What you’d do.”

Discord clutched at his chest with one paw in mock offense. “Me? No. I’m not asking you to do anything, Twilight. Nothing you don’t already want to do. Think about Equestria—all its neat little boxes. So much is there under the surface, everypony oblivious to the world under their hooves. Princess Celestia keeps everyone ignorant. Think of how little you knew. How terrifying it was. She basically lied to you. Everything you’ve learned this last week could be public knowledge. Ponies could be working together with seaponies, or using vampirism more productively. Imagine a world where the best mages and artificers never died, for instance! Imagine what greater monsters are waiting beyond what Fluttershy showed you. What if creatures are coming that Equestria isn’t ready for? Your ignorance will not protect you from annihilation.”

He was making sense, which was probably a good sign to Twilight that she should stop listening. How much of my last week is your fault, Discord? How much influence did you have on all this?

“For now I just want to bring an herb back with me to Equestria, and plant it so it can grow. Can you help me do that?”

“I have no power here,” Discord answered sadly. “But I remember things. Listen carefully…”

Chapter 5.4: Moly

Twilight marched out of the otherworldly manor house, conscious of the eyes of the guards and strange ponies on her. It pained her curiosity not to go back to the party and try to meet more of its guests, but not quite so much as her fear of Thunder’s promises.

Could he really hold her hostage here for a whole year, doing the terrible things he’d implied? Would Celestia tolerate it?

There’s so much you didn’t tell me, Celestia. Did you really plan on waiting for me to find all this on my own?

It was a strange place to be agreeing with Discord of all creatures, but his reasoning was sound this time. Equestria wasn’t the world she thought.

I have to get back to do anything about it.

No pony or other creature stopped her on her way past the building, and she found a path waiting for her that Discord said would get her home.

She had saddlebags on her shoulders this time, which Discord had showed her hanging abandoned in an old gardening shed. She’d used scrap linen used for binding damaged trees to wrap the herb she carried, and would have to moisten its roots every hour.

According to Discord, it would last until sunrise outside of the soil. That was just fine, since she’d be trapped here anyway if she took that long.

The path continued for only a short time before it began to narrow, the hostile growth of the forest on either side leaning towards her with sharp thorns and glittering spines. She couldn’t so much as let her tail wander outside the path without it getting caught, yanking her to a pained halt.

She walked for what felt like hours, using the dampness of the cloth in her pack more than any absolute time. “You better make it,” she said to the little plant, voice desperate. “You’re going to be the first of a whole generation. You’ve been waiting to make it back to Equestria, haven’t you?”

The herb still looked green, though there was a little browning near its leaves where they’d been rubbing against the bottom of the bag. Being moved like this was hard on any living thing. Too bad it wouldn’t survive in a vase.

“Strange for a spring not to be at the solstice celebration,” said a voice from nearby, apparently from the bag itself.

Twilight’s eyes winded, and for a moment she wondered if coming here had somehow made her crazy enough to hear the voices of plants. But no—she looked up again, and there was a creature beside her.

It was a pony, if ponies were the size of large insects with wide, delicate wings. “Hello.” She smiled politely, the way Discord had instructed her to do for all visitors. She shut the bag even so, strapping it closed. Not letting anypony see what she carried was also part of his instructions. “I think I’ve read about you. You’re a… breezie.”

He was bright orange, with electric blue fluff at various points on his chest and legs. They were incredibly delicate creatures if her books were any guide, though also some of the best caretakers for rare and valuable plants.

“And you’re an idiot,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Your queen won’t be happy with you leaving.”

“I’m not—” She hesitated. She didn’t have to tell any creature everything, but she absolutely couldn’t lie. “She told me to go back to Equestria before sunrise.”

“Oh.” He landed on her shoulder, his weight so faint it probably wouldn’t have bent over the stem of a flower. “I’ll come with you then, pony. I can see you haven’t been here long. Few promises sworn, little protection granted. But I’ve been here five centuries, I am wise. You’ll want my protection.”

You couldn’t protect me from a beetle. Twilight only smiled back. It wasn’t like carrying a breezie would slow her down much. “Okay. My name is Twilight, what’s yours?”

“My nickname is Set, call me that. I’m not ready for first name basis yet, Twilight.”

Then why’d you just— She started walking again. It was already full dark overhead, with no easy way to gage just how much of her night she had left. “I will let you come with me, so long as you don’t try to look into my saddlebags.”

“Agreeable,” the bug responded. He remained on her shoulder, soft and faintly fluffy. “I accept.”

They walked in silence for another little while, until the darkness around them forced Twilight to light her horn to avoid wandering off the path. This forest wasn’t quite the Everfree, but it wasn’t the garden she’d left behind either. It wasn’t self-illuminating.

At least the light from her horn kept working. The one spell that didn’t seem to care what realm she was in. I wonder if I could just teleport back. She thought about trying it—but ultimately her time-limit made her dismiss that idea. A long-range teleport would leave her drained and weak even if it failed. Almost helpless was not a state she wanted to be in while wandering through a world she barely knew and didn’t understand.

They stopped at a fork in the path, with two nearly identical choices spreading in east and west. Twilight sat down on her haunches, frowning at it. “I’ve already been walking longer than the time it took to get here with Pinkie in the first place. I should be there by now.”

“You just… speak her name?” Set asked, eyes wide. “Do you have a death wish, sprout?”

“Death wish? Because of Pinkie?” She giggled. “I’ll take my chances.”

“I wouldn’t.” Set lifted off her shoulder, drifting a little distance forward. “Have you come this way before, Twilight?”

“Nope,” she answered. “I think Pinkie did some magic to get us in so quick. This place is so much bigger than it looks from the outside.”

“Well you’re lucky you have me,” Set said. “What are you willing to trade for directions? Do you have anything interesting?”

“No,” she answered. “I’ve been given instructions not to share it until I make it to the other side. Are you going into Equestria, Set?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Thought about it. Thunder is the worst, and the further away I am the harder it is to get his instructions.”

“Well…” Twilight hesitated for another second. “Suppose I have something I can share with you once we get there. Maybe even a place to stay on that side, if you need one.”

His eyebrows went up. “Your queen must be even more liberal than I thought. Walking with me is one thing, but… under the same roof? Are you crazy?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. Discord hadn’t wanted her to say that she wasn’t fae herself—but Discord wasn’t here. If he’d wanted to micromanage how she made the whole trip, he should’ve guided her the whole way. “I’m not Spring,” she said flatly. “I’m a visitor from Equestria.”

“Well then.” Set pointed to one of the forks. “It’s that way, come on!” Not even a second’s hesitation.

He didn’t even have to think about that. I don’t like this. But Twilight didn’t argue yet, just picked the chosen path and started walking. “You’ve got wings too, Set. Why can’t we just fly over all this?”

“Because we’d be devoured,” he answered. “You’re new here, so you don’t know. But things watch us from above. Hungry things. Bigger than you, so don’t even think it. You’re not safer than I am. Otherwise we’d just use airships the way ponies do in their world. Fly over it all, save the trip.”

The path continued forward into the gloom for a short distance before curving slightly north. Twilight stopped, glancing back. “You sure about this direction?”

“Positive!” he insisted, bobbing up and down. “It’s just dodging a hazard. There are all kinds of dangerous things in the Faewyld. The best way to overcome them is to be as far away as possible!”

Twilight started walking again. Rarity seemed to think nobody lied in here. So this must be the way back.

“You’re right about me being new here,” Twilight said, speeding up a little. So much that Set had to land on her shoulder again, or else get left behind. “What else is in here? It can’t be just impassible wilderness with an occasional mansion, can it?”

“No,” he agreed. “This is just the barrier. Separates your world from ours, stops them from bleeding over too much. We like our rules, you like yours. Ponies who wander here by mistake usually spend a few minutes bleeding themselves before they give up and turn around.”

Twilight winced. She’d already gotten herself pricked by a few of the wickedly pointed thorns. She couldn’t imagine trying to walk straight through them. “So if we went the other way, it would end.”

He nodded. “At the queen’s palace, that’s the closest to your world we can get. It’s where the old treaties were all signed.”

“And the fae recruit from Equestria,” she went on. “The ones who don’t give up, I guess.”

He nodded again. “Spend too long here, and you can’t help it. Rubs off on you. Works the other way too—the ones who visit your world have to keep making the trip back—”

“Or they lose their magic,” Twilight finished. “Go back to being what they were.”

Set laughed bitterly. “No, child of Equestria. They die. Fae doesn’t like it when you refuse her gifts. I’d like to see you try.”

“I… can’t say I plan on it,” she said, hurrying a little faster. The path was widening now, almost as wide as it had been when Pinkie made it for them. One side was no longer the thick brambles she’d been seeing so far, but a bridge over brackish water, which sagged a little under her weight with every step.

“We still haven’t turned around,” she said, stopping on the edge of the bridge. “Give me some space, I have to do something in my bag.” He obeyed as he’d promised, fluttering a little bit away while she opened the pack and dumped more of the water she’d gathered in a jar there onto the cloth. It had been dangerously dry already. She couldn’t keep getting distracted.

“It leads to Equestria,” Set said, confident. “I’m positive it does.”

“How soon?” Twilight asked, snapping the bag closed again. “Does it go anywhere else first?”

Set fell stubbornly silent, avoiding her eyes. Buck this.

“Okay.” She turned squarely around, and cantered away from the way they’d been going.

“Wait!” Set squealed, hurrying to catch up. “You shouldn’t run in the borderland, everyone knows that!”

“I’m not running, I’m cantering,” Twilight said, picking up speed just a little. A creature as delicate as a breezie shouldn’t be able to keep up with her.

But somehow he was, though it was costing him every drop of energy he had. “Slow down!” he yelled, his tiny voice almost lost in the wind. “You’re going to get killed!”

She slowed to a trot, and the Breezie zipped right past her, slowing in the air and landing on her shoulder. “You’re going the wrong way,” he said, annoyed. “You didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t forget,” she repeated, not slowing down. She wasn’t out of breath yet, not from such a short trip. “I just don’t trust you. Unless you want to tell me this path goes straight back to Equestria.”

The poor bug on the other hand was lying flat on his belly, and spoke only with great effort. “It doesn’t,” he answered. “But it does go there. We’d make it.”

“Before sunrise?” Twilight asked.

No answer.

She sped into a canter, though she didn’t try to dislodge him. It would’ve been easy to throw him off, or even to hurt him. But she resisted for another moment longer.

“You don’t understand!” He sounded genuinely panicked this time. “Don’t run! You’re attracting them!”

“That’s another lie,” she said flatly, glowering down at him. “There’s nothing to attract!”

“Not a lie.” His voice was as weak as before. “There are hunters on the border, come for easy prey. Running is how they find you.”

She slowed down again, and this time it was sudden enough that he was thrown right from her shoulder. Not to be smashed to his death on the ground anyway, since his wings spread, and he caught himself in the air in front of her.

Too slow. Somewhere not far away, Twilight heard the howl again, the same one she’d heard when Pinkie brought her here. Another joined it from a different direction, then another frighteningly close.

Oh buck.

They weren’t alone.

Twilight abandoned all the advice she’d heard and galloped as quickly as she could, using a little of her magic to cushion the inside of her saddlebags so her precious cargo would survive.

But whether she would survive the rest of the trip was less certain.

She was fast, faster than any minotaur or other biped could hope to be. But the creatures following her weren’t bipeds.

One broke through the thorns just ahead of her, nearly causing her to buck right and lose the path.

“But that is what you must not do, above all other concerns,” Discord’s voice sounded in her ear, clear in her memory. “The boundary between worlds will sap your magic and fill in the gaps with itself. If you’re lost for too long, there won’t be anything of you left, and you won’t be able to return.”

The monster had little fur, only faint tufts on its chest and near its wicked claws. Its body was naked, and skin was sagging, torn and matted with the thorns and sharp stones that waited just off the path.

It had no face—neither eyes, nor teeth, just faint indentations where they might’ve been on a head with matted white streaking back from it like a mane.

How is it screaming without a mouth? Not only that, but it turned directly towards her, bounding forward like a wolf.

“This is it!” squeaked Set from her shoulder. “Never thought it would end like this! Worse than spiders…”

There was a sword in Twilight’s hooves. She felt its familiar weight settle there as though it had never left her presence, dark metal seeming like a patch of condensed shadow beside her.

How are you here? Twilight thought, but she didn’t pause to consider.

The sword had killed many demons before.

Twilight didn’t slow down, but swung forward with all her magic might behind the swing. She parted the creature in two separate pieces, dodging to the left to avoid the spray as it fell.

She galloped over where it had fallen, watching as its dark red blood fizzed and hissed off the metal of her blade.

“Rip off my wings and leave me for the spiders…” said the little voice on her shoulder. Well, now he was riding in her mane, clinging for dear life. “Who are you?”

Behind her, three more hunters emerged from the thorns, yowling in fury at their fallen companion before taking off after her. Their loping strides were much faster than a galloping pony.

“I told you!” She gritted her teeth, spreading her wings and lifting off the ground. It wasn’t hard, since she was already running so fast. The hard part would be turning swiftly enough to avoid breaking her neck on a tree. “I’m Twilight!”

“You’re a Daughter of Nightmare?” He swallowed. “How about we just forget about the part where I sent you the other way?”

“How about you let me concentrate!” she snapped back, flying with the sword beside her. The branches of a tree up ahead hung across the path, and she sliced through them with the sword, leaving a smoking wreck behind it and just enough room for them to fly through.

The first of the hunters leapt up into the air, leading with its sharp claws instead of its featureless head. Twilight didn’t even have to think about what she did with the sword, she just swung, cutting straight along its neck this time. She sped up, avoiding the corpse as it arced into the space she’d been in moments before.

“How long until they leave me alone?” she asked, her breath coming in ragged gasps now. But all her terrified swimming in the Undercity had prepared her for this—she didn’t wander off the path as it curved, or let her wing stretch far enough to be caught and ripped off. “There’s only two left!”

“You made them angry!” Set squeaked. “I don’t think they’re going to stop!”

“They’re fighting an Alicorn!”

They rounded a bend, into a narrowing stretch of the path. Much too tight for her to fly it, not without Rainbow’s level of mastery. She stabbed her sword into the ground, wrapping her hooves around it and coming to an abrupt stop.

Regular steel would’ve shattered like glass at such mistreatment, but this sword wasn’t just steel. “Get behind me.”

Twilight gritted her teeth, preparing a spell she’d last used during the changeling invasion. Magic built in her horn, until it outshone the moon above them.

“Don’t be too mad at me, Fluttershy,” Twilight whispered, as the two remaining hunters came around the bend. Twilight released the spell, and a billowing curtain of flame twenty feet across left the space in front of her. It caught her pursuers off their claws, flinging them bodily into the nearby trees even as they burned.

Twilight dropped to her knees, panting. Her horn steamed, and for a few seconds she couldn’t even see—that was a lot of magic to use at once, almost as much as a long-range teleport.

“Brood mothers before us,” Set whispered from her ear. “Please don’t kill me.”

Twilight forced herself to her hooves, glaring at the bug. “Show me the way back. Now.”

Twilight knew Rarity would find her.

She hadn’t gone to look for her when she returned, dreading what might happen if she did. She went straight for the Apple farm, and the expert help she could receive there.

A few hours later, and she dragged herself to the library steps, her hooves digging little grooves in the ground behind her. She stopped in front of the door, using her mouth to open it instead of her magic. She didn’t have the strength left.

It was early morning as she wandered in, trailing mud from the trail and little bits of plant.

Rarity was already waiting inside, just as she had been last time. She dressed this time like she was about to take off on another one of her adventures, with a thick coat hanging by the door and saddlebags filled with gear on the ground beside her. She rose to her hooves as Twilight walked in, watching her. “You made it,” she said. “I was beginning to worry. It’s been hours since sunrise.”

“Yeah.” Twilight flopped sideways on the ground, and for once she didn’t care that she was making things dirty. I’m sorry Spike. I’ll make it up to you somehow. “I made it.”

“Did you—”

Twilight met her eyes. “Yes. But it’s going to be a few months before we can take advantage of what I brought.”

Rarity’s own frown deepened. “If you brought it with you, I don’t know why that would be. Did we win or didn’t we?”

“We won,” she said. “But I made a promise. Now I have to keep it.”

Author's Notes:

Initially I thought this would end with twilight's friends. I was wrong about that. There's one more section to go before this is finally finished. I hope you'll stay aboard this train with me for a little while longer.

Chapter 6.1: Life

A few months passed. Twilight got her crown, but in general her months were quiet. Twilight still hadn’t been given anything like royal responsibilities.

Twilight had to call in several favors to make the potion happen—brought in Zecora to supervise during several sections, brought in laboratory equipment and pressure vessels from the university, even borrowed a linguist from the historical department to clarify the wording of the recipe so there were no mistakes. She wasn’t willing to permit a chance, however miniscule, that she would waste some of the ingredients and have to get more. The price she’d paid to find even these was just too high.

There were plenty of close calls—times where the pressure vessel reached its capacity, times when strange flames shone in the sky over her library and ponies all over Ponyville complained to the mayor of the sounds they heard whistling in the night.

But Twilight assuaged all their concerns with her own office, saying only that “Alicorn magic was hard to learn.” And that she would work on improving as quickly as she could. Even Mayor Mare was convinced to stay any investigation when she reminded her of the prestige and commerce that would soon be coming to Ponyville.

“It’s only a matter of time before the Crown builds a castle here,” she said, hoping very much that it was true. “Think of all the tax revenue those contractors will bring.”

She wasn’t harassed again after that, and she was free to continue her brewing in peace. Heavy boxes of equipment and machines arrived by night and left again in the morning. At least Rarity picked up the tab—despite Rainbow’s insistence that she could make a fortune by selling her transformation spells to the seaponies, she hadn’t had the occasion yet. There were more important things to finish first.

So it happened, by both coincidence of availability and planning on her part, that the potion was finished the day of Sweetie’s birthday party. Rarity spared no expense for the occasion, short of hiring the exotic party planner whose skills were being spread from one side of Equestria to the other. Pinkie would serve for that.

Besides, every one of their friends wanted to come. Even if there seemed to be little information exchanged from one to the other, almost everypony knew that Twilight had found herself involved with their worlds thanks to something to do with Sweetie. A few even knew, or guessed, at what she’d accomplished.

As the date grew closer and the cure was nearly complete, Rarity brought a concerning list of confirmations down into the lab.

“That was Luna,” she said on one sunny afternoon, adding another black envelope to the pile, right on top of the gold and white envelope Celestia had sent the day before.

“You invited the princesses to your sister’s party?” she asked. Twilight wore a pair of thick goggles, and her face all around had been blackened with soot. She had run this reaction several times and would have to run it a few times more. However simple the initial instructions had been, the actual process of making the cure was legendary in itself.

“I didn’t,” Rarity said, only slightly exasperated. “Not that I would’ve been opposed to having them, but… Sweetie is just a filly. I wouldn’t have expected them to come any more than they would for any of the other millions of ponies.”

“You think they know?”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “You’re seriously asking that? Princess Luna obviously knows, she will have had an earful from Regolith about our visit. Apparently he wasn’t too offended, or else I would’ve been disciplined. But she didn’t have a word to say on the matter. The ones we killed were rogues of course, operating outside the bounds of their law. They always are.”

Twilight didn’t have the energy to be upset about that now. The existence of many hidden predators nipping at the hooves of Equestrians from one side of the world to the other was certainly a real concern for her—but if Twilight had learned anything during her trips, it was that she couldn’t fight every battle at once.

“We’re about to undo some of their damage,” she said quietly, frowning at the crucible and checking the pressure gauge again. “It should be ready by tomorrow, Celestia willing. It doesn’t say anything about how long the cure will keep when we’re finished with it…”

“We’re also assuming it’s even the cure,” Rarity said. “Regolith himself gave it to us. I don’t know why he would want to share it.”

“Because he’s eliminating potential rivals,” Twilight answered, somehow knowing it was true. “Think about what I went through to get this. Well… you don’t know, and I guess I can’t tell you, but it was hard. Anypony who could do it would be a serious threat to him. And the ones who died trying… well they’re out of his way too.”

“Right.” Rarity nodded reluctantly. “That does make a kind of perverse sense. You’ve been too close to them for too long if you can understand it.”

“Not just them.” Twilight removed the goggles, tossing them onto her desk. “Every day I’m worried that my next step will take me into another invisible world I had no idea was waiting there. How deep do you think it goes?”

“Not as deep as you do,” Rarity said reluctantly. “I don’t know if I’m… fully confident about your experiences. Not that I’m saying you’re lying, perish the thought! But some things aren’t as real as they first appear, and you are still a neophyte at all this.”

She almost laughed right there—but Twilight knew better than that. Rarity knew little of what she’d seen, and she didn’t plan on tormenting her with more than was necessary.

But the princesses were not the worst of those who invited themselves to Sweetie’s party. That dubious honor went to Regolith, whose confirmation went not to Rarity but to Twilight herself.

It didn’t even come through the mail, but in the hooves of a dark pony who knocked once on her kitchen window.

Twilight swung the window open, looking out into the gloom. She didn’t bother lighting her horn—the moon was enough light for her now that she knew how to see.

“My lord sends me with this,” he said, lowering his head respectfully. It was a unicorn, though he smelled more like a tomb. Twilight took the black envelope in her magic, looking down at the pages. There was no name, just a red seal.

By the time she looked up, he was already gone.

Twilight cut Regolith’s perfect red seal with a butter knife, pulling it open and reading the contents.

She already knew what it would say. But she read anyway.

Twilight,

This night that comes will be dark. I know your skill will have produced the cure with success in every respect. As such, it is my duty to be present to witness.

Songs have been sung of the task you have accomplished. But I fear you don’t know the consequences of your achievement. The songs first sung by the ancients can be heard again. But beware those who come to listen.

Don’t forget about the dress.

-R

Rarity isn’t going to like this. She almost didn’t mention it at all—her little sister’s day of celebration turning into a gathering of some of her greatest enemies. But the surprise would’ve been worse—she could only imagine what disaster might be waiting for Ponyville if he arrived without telling her.

Her fury the next day was entirely what Twilight had expected. “If he told you, then he already… and she did nothing.” Rarity stormed back and forth in the lab, nearly knocking over a rack of various reagents. Twilight focused her magic on them, holding the base in place until she’d made it past.

“Completely absurd, what they permit. You think we should wipe them all out, don’t you? They’re all the same. Every one of them is a monster.”

Twilight met her eyes and didn’t look away. She might’ve agreed without hesitation after her first night with Rarity. Now, though…

“What if there wasn’t a cure?” she asked instead. “And your sister was still infected. What would you do?”

Rarity froze, and for a second Twilight thought she might be about to hit her. Then she looked away. “It’s not the same. She’s innocent.”

“Most of them probably are,” Twilight countered. “Or were, once. Without your help, your sister might be dangerous too. Thanks to you, she has this.” Twilight nodded towards the sealed metal container. It was surrounded by salty water now, bubbling with the dry ice that kept the water bath near freezing. Loads of it had to be delivered every few hours—and would be, until the potion was finally complete.

“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen,” Rarity said. “I know, going all over Equestria the way we have. Meeting exotic creatures. It makes you think you should always be compassionate. Enough kindness, and any creature will change their ways. That isn’t how they are. A pony can turn away from evil, choose to be something better. Not every creature can.”

“Vampires can,” Twilight said. “I… I can’t tell you who they were. But when I went to do their favor, that vampire fought monsters. All she wanted was for the ponies of Equestria to be safe.”

Rarity chuckled. “You’re saying the Daughters of Nightmare are still around? I always thought they were a historical fiction to make vampires feel better about themselves. They could always say that they had been something noble once. Their evil was created for a noble purpose.”

“There’s one left,” Twilight said. “And she’s a good mare. So that means at least two vampires out there can choose to be something better. Your sister, choosing to take the cure. And F—and the one I went to help.”

Rarity stopped, hesitating. “You think we should ask her if she…” She trailed off, looking confused. “I hadn’t really planned to make it a choice. Of course, she wants to be cured.”

“Stars and stones,” Twilight muttered. “I really hope you’re joking.”

Rarity wasn’t joking.

Then came the next morning, and Twilight perched high atop her tree-house’s observation tower. While weatherponies flew back and forth to clear the sky for the day of Sweetie’s party, Twilight finally removed the last protective layer from the potion, exposing its glass vessel to the sky.

“You’ve done something incredible here,” Set said, darting from the oak’s boughs and over to the platform again, before buzzing close to the trees. He’d come quite far from the glade on the Apple Farm for the occasion—but she hadn’t felt right refusing him. It was only because of his involvement that the potion was possible at all. “Even in Faewyld, the cure for the undead curse is the stuff of songs, not reality.”

“Are there any songs of ponies who have received it?” Twilight asked. She sat on her haunches, her eyes red and baggy but her focus intense. She would not be spoiling this moment, not after almost two months of work.

“One,” he said. “I could tell you her name, for a price. Do you have any strawberries?”

“Downstairs,” she said, glowering at him. “I promise to get one for you after we finish here or my name isn’t Twilight Sparkle.”

Set clucked his tongue reprovingly. “Don’t swear on your name so casually, Twilight Sparkle. You give it to me from your lips like it was ash and dross to blow away in the wind. Your name is not common—if you find success tonight, it will soon be joining many other great craftsmen and scholars in our songs.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she argued, her eyes never leaving the glass vial. There was so little in there, enough for perhaps one good sip. Yet for all the strange ingredients inside it, it resembled Regolith’s rotten blood most of all, black and oozing. The great purity of the other ingredients was swallowed in that corruption.

Set landed on the little table beside the vial, his laugh like the buzzing of a bumblebee. “Your humility is unbecoming. Look at what you have accomplished.”

The first light of dawn touched the vial. Twilight watched, eyes wide and nervous. This was the moment everything had been building towards. If her potion making failed here…

Nothing happened. The vial remained black as light shone on it, as dark as powdered charcoal or a road surface.

Then her vial started to hiss. The cork popped off, and steam boiled up from the surface of the liquid, carrying with it flecks of black tar. The liquid changed, turning as clear as water.

“You see.” Set tapped the vial with one of his tiny hooves. “Steadier than Brokkr, cleverer than Meadowbrook, perhaps greater than Mithridates himself. This is the stuff of songs, Alicorn Twilight Sparkle. You did not brew only, but you found also. What your companions and helpers are by birth or curse, you did through might.”

“I meant my oath,” she said, smiling despite herself. Twilight replaced the cork, then carefully lowered the vial into a padded metal sleeve. There would be no variables in this, no accidents. She now held in her hooves the rarest medicine ever created. “Tell me the name of the other cured of vampirism, and I’ll give you a strawberry.”

“I can’t tell you,” Set said, buzzing up into the air in front of her. “Because it’s a matter for song. Sit and listen all, to the story of Megan, child of death who lived again…

Chapter 6.2: Rebirth

There were no venues in Ponyville large enough for the event that had been gradually constructed for Sweetie Belle. So it was that they borrowed Sweet Apple Acres, along with all the land around it.

Twilight wasn’t surprised to find that Pinkie had already made arrangements for a much larger space, to her usual standards of quality and coordination. Hundreds of meters of ribbons and streamers coated the trees, with firefly lanterns so bright that nopony would long for the electricity that the farm didn’t have.

Twilight couldn’t help but see the similarity to a certain fae gathering she had briefly visited, with the live band and spacious dance floor and ample supply of refreshments.

But here the music was a local group playing covers of songs popular with younger ponies—the sweets were from Sugarcube Corner, and the guests were all creatures Twilight knew.

If there was one consolation for Twilight about the party, it was that she wasn’t responsible for it. It was Sweetie’s party, and her friends that would be there. Friends to a vampire-child, with no idea what they’d involved themselves in. But not for much longer.

As ponies began to arrive, Twilight mingled with the other adults near the gates. She watched them come without doing anything to make herself stand out from the crowd. She watched the sky for Celestia’s carriage, or for Luna’s covert descent—but saw neither one. The sun went down, and still she didn’t see them. While children played party games, Twilight engaged in polite conversation with the creatures of Ponyville, and all those who had come from all around.

“You’re actually doing it,” Fluttershy said, emerging from the crowd when Twilight was alone and joining her at the small table. She had a plate of food with her, one she never touched. Twilight could scarcely imagine how she’d missed something that had been so obvious before—her friend’s animal companions ate far more than she did, despite their size. How could she have failed to notice it? “Did you think about the consequences?”

Twilight looked away from her, still watching the crowd. She shifted uncomfortably in the expensive ball gown, feeling like a glass sculpture on display in a toy store. But if she wanted the tolerance of the greatest vampire on any night, it was tonight.

“That’s what Regolith said,” she whispered. It wasn’t hard to stay quiet enough not to be overheard, when there were so many others conversing, and the band played so loudly. “I don’t know what he was talking about. We’re curing her, so doesn’t that mean we’re done with consequences?”

Fluttershy giggled. It was quiet, graceful like everything else she did. Even so, Twilight couldn’t help but feel the bitterness buried in it. “It’s so rare, I can’t tell you what’s going to happen. I wonder if he can’t either. But… there’s so much power here. Unless you think the cure was easy.”

“No!” She didn’t hesitate this time. “That was the hardest thing I ever did. And once I found everything, I’d barely started.”

“There you go.” Fluttershy sat back. “Good thing I’m here. Hopefully that’s enough.”

“And the princesses. And Regolith himself. And our friends.”

“You mean Rainbow?” Her eyebrows went up. “I don’t think being a good swimmer is going to help us here. The Apples don’t even have a pond closeby, even if we did something like that.”

It was Twilight’s turn to laugh. “It’s not my place to say. Just like it’s not my place to tell them about you.” One glance at the moon beginning to edge over the trees was all the timekeeping she needed. The filly of the hour would be heading into the farmhouse about now for her surprise. There were still reasons this might end badly that had nothing at all to do with magic.

She walked slowly through the crowd, eyes fixed on the farmhouse up on the hill. She almost missed the voice from behind her, quiet and polite. “I’m pleased you wore it.”

It was Regolith all right, entertaining at a table surrounded by several of Ponyville’s local mares. Twilight bit back a wave of nausea at the thought of where this might be going. But so far as she could tell, he’d just been talking to them.

It was strange to see a creature like him out in the open—he reclined like a king, dressed in a casual cape with intricate gold stitching.

“Don’t try anything,” she whispered, freezing just behind his chair. “Ponyville is my home.”

“Work on your subtlety,” Regolith chided. “This relationship is old, and there are many in my position who would be less gracious. Try instead ‘I hope the night is peaceful.’ To which I might reply, ‘I’m only here to watch the festivities, not to touch.’ Same message, fewer insults.”

Twilight winced—not only was the advice obviously right, but it was given by the same creature who might be most offended. She nodded respectfully to him. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more diplomatic next time.”

“Good.” When he glanced back at her, he was smiling. “I understand the young can be impertinent. I will be less understanding a century from now.”

Twilight walked away, though it was an effort to leave these innocent ponies so close to such a dangerous creature. I hope Celestia or Luna is close. I don’t know if anypony else could do anything about you.

Twilight soon learned why she hadn’t seen Celestia yet—she was waiting inside the farmhouse. The princess wore none of her regalia tonight, just a loose brown robe with a hood, enough to conceal her face until Twilight was right beside her.

“My dear Twilight,” she said, grinning lightly. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She stepped out of the way, revealing the ponies inside. Rarity and Sweetie Belle. Her best friends the other crusaders weren’t here.

Twilight nodded politely back. “Good to see you too, Princess.”

Celestia smiled faintly. “Perhaps now isn’t the time. Sweetie Belle here looks like she’s going to have a nervous breakdown.”

Twilight looked past her, and sure enough Sweetie Belle did look upset. Mostly by Celestia—she squirmed in her seat, looking like she wanted to run.

Now that she knew what to look for, Twilight could see in Sweetie Belle what she could see in Fluttershy. She was no helpless child, but a graceful, powerful creature. The smell she’d first mistaken for a slightly bad apple knocked under a cabinet or something was the odor of decay—Sweetie Belle herself. She was dead, after all.

“I don’t… really know what’s going on,” Sweetie said, glancing up at her sister and back several times in simple terror. “Is this, uh…”

“It’s alright, Sweetie,” Rarity said. “They both know, and they’re not here to hurt you. Twilight and I have been working on something very hard for the last six months. That surprise I told you about.”

“You’re going to give me magic lessons?” she asked, as though her sister had flipped a switch. She bounced forward, grinning excitedly. “I told her I wanted to get good at it. If my cutie mark is something about being a unicorn, I wouldn’t be able to find it with the Crusaders.”

“You wouldn’t be able to find it at all,” Princess Celestia said. She stepped forward, suddenly standing tall and regal. Her mane filled the farmhouse with light and warmth, making Sweetie retreat a few steps. For a few seconds her mouth opened, and Twilight saw the little fangs emerging from inside.

Princess Celestia didn’t sound cruel, nor judgmental. Just confident. “Most ponies have forgotten the mechanisms of fate. There is much that you don’t need to know—except this. You would need to be alive to ever find a cutie mark. Those like you—their marks are nothing more than the signs you see written on their flanks. They carry no power anymore, no talents, no connection to magic. Even if you had become a vampire later in life, you would have lost your mark as much as they did.”

“Oh.” Sweetie sunk to the floor as though Celestia had smacked her with a rock. Her ears flattened, and her eyes looked dark.

Twilight had some idea of where her thoughts were probably going. She didn’t intend to sit still and let that happen. She removed the padded metal container, nodding towards her sister. It was only right that Rarity would tell her.

Rarity took the case, removing the clasps and opening it. “We found the cure,” she said. “And we have it for you. That’s what makes this birthday special. You don’t have to be stuck.”

Sweetie Belle looked up, her eyes going wide. She looked at the container, at the tiny glass flask inside it. “I thought… you said…”

“There probably wasn’t one,” Rarity finished for her. “I thought it was impossible. I could only find legends of one creature who had ever been cured before, and not even a pony. But I still looked. Princess Twilight and I went to the ends of Equestria and back to make this for you.”

Sweetie didn’t lift the container—Rarity hadn’t let go, and anyway her magic was far weaker. If she tried to use it, she might’ve shattered it on the floor.

“This is it,” she whispered. She no longer seemed afraid of them. “What if… what if we gave it to Mom and Dad instead? They need it more than me.”

Princess Celestia shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done for either of them. But the treatment Twilight Sparkle made for you is real. I’ve seen it used once before, and I can see she’s brewed it perfectly. If you drink it, you will be healed. You will return to your proper age, and be a normal, living pony again. Fate and Equestria both will have places welcome for you.”

“But…” Sweetie said, lowering her head. “What if I don’t?”

It wasn’t Princess Celestia who answered, or even Twilight. A voice spoke from the back of the kitchen, and the pony it belonged to emerged from within a second later. Regolith. “Then the potion will crystalize when the sun rises, becoming useless. You will retain every advantage you have gained, every strength. You will be free to study magic not for one century, but as many as you wish. The real question is—what if you do drink it?”

Twilight’s eyes widened, and she spun to face him. “Nopony said you could be here.”

Rarity had even less tact—she’d drawn a rapier. Where she’d had it stashed in such a slim dress, Twilight didn’t even want to know. But now she held it in her magic beside the potion, protecting it and her sister both.

“I do not require permission.” He strode forward, nodding politely to Celestia. Like a casual acquaintance he was meeting on the street, not the princess of all Equestria. He walked up to Sweetie’s other side, ignoring Rarity’s angry glares. “Not from you. I received it in the treaty, many years ago. I told you it was my duty to be here. What did you think that meant?”

“I don’t…” Sweetie looked up and seemed less afraid of him than she had been of Celestia. “Who are you?”

“Your prince,” he said, smiling. “And you’re my youngest subject, at least that I know about. I am the one who looks out for our interests in Equestria. So long as you don’t drink that potion.”

Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but Regolith was quicker. “Don’t you dare speak a lie in my presence, Agent Rarity. I know you care deeply about your sister—but it would be a violation of our arrangement to tell her something that isn’t true. Think carefully before you speak.”

Rarity ground her teeth together, seemed to count quietly to herself, then finally spoke. “Sweetie. This one here is the oldest vampire anyone knows about. He—a rogue member of his court is the one who attacked our parents, and you.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, apparently satisfied. “A rogue member of my court that was duly punished. There are few creatures who care more about the administration of justice than me. The actions of creatures like Nocturne endanger all of us. And this is why I’ve taken such an interest tonight. Caring for you, dear child, is helping to undo some of the damage he caused.”

Princess Celestia cleared her throat. “Careful, Regolith. You nearly overstep yourself.”

“Nearly,” he answered, before taking one step back and falling silent.

“The prince is telling you the truth,” Celestia went on. “There was a time long ago where his kind and ours were allies, Sweetie Belle. There have been great ponies who were like him. Champions and heroes. It is thanks to those ponies that we have this arrangement with vampires today. You cannot be forced to use the cure, by us or him. The cure cannot be compelled on a vampire, even if they’re guilty of terrible things. And you have done nothing wrong.”

Poor Sweetie Belle looked like she was about to go back to her nervous breakdown. She looked back and forth between them all, then to the vial. Eventually her eyes settled on Twilight. “You made it. What if I wanted to wait and drink one in a few years? Could you make me another?”

Twilight shook her head. “It was a… miracle I was able to gather everything once. I can’t do it again.”

Rarity looked like she was about to explode. She glanced to Celestia for approval, who finally nodded. Then she spoke. “Sweetie, Twilight and I did this so you could have your life back. I hope you’ll take it. I’ve been fighting the undead for a long time—many of them would kill a hundred ponies to have this chance. You won’t get another one.”

She lifted the tiny glass out from its padding and set it on the floor at her hooves.

Twilight watched in silence. She didn’t expect to have anything to contribute to this now—she didn’t represent either side in this argument. She couldn’t even look at her without remembering how hard it had been to brew.

“Will there be pain?” Sweetie asked.

Regolith shrugged one shoulder. “I have no idea. The only ponies who drank that are dead now. Not through anything I did—that’s the best part. Time is the enemy of us all, Sweetie Belle. I know you don’t understand it now, but you will. If you drink that, your blood will stink so terribly that for the rest of your life no vampire will be able to dream of drinking it. And for good reason—if they try, it will kill them. This is a permanent decision you make, filly. Understand its consequences well.”

Sweetie Belle removed the cork, lifting the container towards her. Twilight kept her own magic ready, in case she manifested more of her usual clumsiness and dropped it. No decisions would be made today by spilling her magnum opus on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Regolith,” Sweetie said. “I can’t… I can’t watch my friends get their cutie marks and not earn mine.”

He looked away. “Apologize for nothing to me, child. It was the lawbreaker who did this, not you. No creature should be brought into our number by accident. You have done nothing wrong.”

Sweetie Belle tilted back the little bottle and emptied it in a single sip.

Only when she’d swallowed did Celestia say, “It does hurt. More than anything you’ve ever felt. More than anything you ever will.”

Sweetie’s eyes went wide, shocked and confused. There was pain there for a moment, then a swirl of emotions Twilight couldn’t even read. She bore her teeth again, both fangs this time, lunging forward at Twilight.

Then she tripped on a loose floorboard and fell on her face. She groaned, moaning and rolling to one side. She began to twitch and convulse, as something black began oozing out of her lips and her eyes.

Rarity dropped down beside her—or tried. But Celestia’s magic caught her, pushing her back. “No, Agent Rarity. You can’t help her. Unless you wish to become the thing you’ve worked so hard to destroy.”

Rarity kicked and flailed in the air, struggling towards her sister. “But I… I have to h-help her.”

“No.” Celestia’s horn glowed a little brighter, and Rarity suddenly fell limp. She levitated her back, onto the nearby couch. “I’m afraid this fight is beyond you.”

Sweetie kept thrashing, tearing up the floorboards, kicking and flailing and screaming. Twilight’s own horn glowed for a second, and a bubble appeared around them. The distant music went instantly silent, and Sweetie Belle’s agonized screams were trapped with the three of them.

“Are you proud that you killed another, Sunmaker? You steal my archmagus from me, now you’re taking children as well?”

Celestia smiled at him, her eyes flashing like drops of sunlight. But Twilight was backing away. Feet from them, a child she’d known for years thrashed and struggled as though she was dying. Thick black slime bubbled from her every pore, staining her white coat black. But even the pony Twilight respected most, ruler of all Equestria, stood by and watched.

She didn’t tell her how much it would hurt. Regolith told the truth, and she didn’t.

But Celestia spoke without shame. She raised her voice over the agonized child as though they were speaking in the rain, or maybe beside a train station, instead of a child in distress. “You strive for a prolonged existence for its own sake,” she said. “But do you know what happens to your fateless subjects when they die?”

Regolith smiled back. Twilight finally recognized that expression—there was nothing of friendliness in it, despite how it might appear to outsiders. “Nothing happens,” he said. “We are all matter and machinery, Celestia. My court choose the material that endures.”

What she saw between these two was a hatred so ancient it was almost love. Celestia didn’t look away. “Someday even you will die, Regolith. That day, you will wish you had a pony like Twilight to give you back your soul.”

“We will see.” He turned away from Sweetie, stepping over her agonized body without a downward glance. He turned his back on Celestia without fear, passing Twilight on his way to the door. “Despite what you may think, the true Lunar Court honors a skilled craftspony. This is an incredible feat. In time, I may have my own suggestions for you. Perhaps instead of taking life next time, you’d rather give it.”

He didn’t wait for her answer. Before she could reply, he’d passed through her bubble of silence, and vanished into the night.

Sweetie didn’t seem to have the energy to scream anymore. She twitched and spasmed with little seizures, her voice so weak Twilight almost couldn’t make out her words.

She could, though. “Just… kill me, please. Make it… make it stop…”

“I won’t,” Princess Celestia said, her voice firm, but compassionate. “I have no treatment for you. But there’s a pony who does—she should be here soon.”

Chapter 6.3: Prices

“How?” It was the first word Twilight had managed. She felt herself shaking—her bubble of silence sparked, then went out. They were plunged into the dim candlelight of the evening, with the moon shining in from above. “How can you…”

“You know,” Celestia said. “The night I sent you to the graveyard. When I raise the sun a few hours from now, her pain will be over. Theirs will never end.”

Someone knocked on the front door—then a familiar voice spoke. “Hello?” Rainbow pushed it open with a hoof, looking around. “Princess are you up here?”

“Into the kitchen!” Princess Celestia called. “Lock the door first, if you would.”

“No problem,” Rainbow said. “But you should know, I saw a real shady stallion sneaking away into the bushes. Maybe we should do something?”

“No,” Celestia said. “He’s quite done for the night.” She stepped forward, putting herself between the doorway and where Sweetie had been thrashing. There was still damage to the floor—whole sections of wall were cracked, and black slime seeped across the floor.

Twilight recognized it then, and immediately started heaving. It was rotten, congealed blood.

By the time she looked up, Rainbow Dash was standing in the doorway, holding a little bag over her shoulder.

Her eyes landed on Twilight, and she immediately turned on Celestia. “Please, Princess, you shouldn’t make her forget. Twilight was great in Kumari! I’m pretty sure the council would’ve liked her too, if we had time to—”

Celestia extended a wing, silencing her. She gently took the bag, removing the contents. It was a little metal cylinder with a tight lid, the kind that usually held curiously strong mints.

“It isn’t for her.” She turned, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Twilight. “You went to Kumari? I thought you’d taken the metal from the royal reserve… I guess I should’ve told you about the reserve. Thank you for your help, Rainbow Dash. You’ve given more than you know.”

Rainbow didn’t look like she wanted to leave—but one stern look from Celestia was enough to make her turn away. Twilight was certain she had caught a glimpse of what was on the floor, or at least enough to guess. But she didn’t argue, and soon the door shut behind her.

“I can’t take the pain from young Sweetie Belle,” Celestia said. “But I can ensure she doesn’t—”

Twilight stuck out her wing, covering the lid. It was the boldest thing she’d ever done to the princess. But after everything she’d seen and done, she was feeling brave.

“I don’t think we should, Princess.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. Her horn didn’t glow, and she didn’t use her magic. She just watched.

“Sweetie chose to be a pony again. If we give her… memory coral, I’m guessing… we take away her choice. It’s not fair.”

Princess Celestia met her eyes for a long moment. But if she expected Twilight to back down, she was disappointed. Eventually she sighed, setting the little cylinder on the floor. “Will you take responsibility for healing her, Twilight? You are a princess now. The scars cut into her soul tonight may torment her for years.”

Twilight shrugged. “I think she’d rather remember. Instead of waking up tomorrow and having Rarity tell her. The memories should be real—she should know she chose this.”

Celestia sighed, shaking her head. “Alright, Twilight. I know you’re new to this, and I don’t blame you. I have ruled Equestria a long time—in all those years, I’ve learned that ponies are happier not knowing. They may be ignorant, but their ignorance lets them sleep peacefully. You will see that in Sweetie’s lifetime.”

Celestia turned away. “Tell the guests I’ve taken Sweetie and Rarity on a surprise retreat to the castle. I will nurse her back to health and leave her memories intact.” Princess Celestia pushed the cylinder against Twilight’s hoof with her magic. “If this ends badly for her, I want your word that you will tell her the truth. She deserves to know that she could’ve lived without pain if you’d given her the chance.”

“I will,” Twilight promised.

Celestia’s horn glowed brilliantly bright, filling the farmhouse. Twilight was momentarily blinded, lifting her leg to shield her eyes by reflex.

By the time it faded, Celestia, Sweetie, and Rarity were gone, along with a whole section of the kitchen floor.

Twilight watched from the edge of the dance floor as ponies left the party behind. She could only hope Celestia had informed the Apple family of what might happen when they let her borrow their house. Either that, or maybe Twilight would have to help them pay for a new kitchen.

This whole time I thought ponies were freaking out because of some danger the transformation would set loose. But that hadn’t been it at all. Twilight could still hear poor Sweetie Belle’s agonized screams, still see her thrashing on the floor like a pony poisoned and dying. The filly wasn’t the only one who would have to learn to live with the consequences of what they’d done.

“Hey Twilight,” Pinkie said, appearing from behind her without so much as a squeak. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Please don’t tell me those are real too,” Twilight muttered, before even turning around. Then she did, and saw Pinkie was wearing an oversized party hat, complete with a cartoonish picture of Sweetie’s face.

“Oh, okay.” Pinkie looked away. “I won’t tell you. They’re… not real. Yep, totally fake! Just a big story.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I ended your party prematurely.”

Pinkie shrugged, offering her a slice of cake on a paper plate. Twilight hadn’t seen her carry one, but that was the least of all possible mysteries she’d encountered lately. She took it and started scarfing it down with the offered fork. “Every party has an end. It’s sad, but without one there wouldn’t really be a party.”

Maybe now she knew why Princess Celestia liked cake so much. She hardly spoke as she watched the crowd vanishing down the hill. Whatever had happened to Regolith, at least he was honest about not causing trouble. She heard no screams, no signs that he’d changed his mind about attacking the city.

“Do you think… was I wrong to try and cure her? Should I have told Rarity no?” Twilight couldn’t even remember which friend knew which secret at this point. But she found she didn’t care. If any of them were going to figure out what she was talking about, it was Pinkie.

“You saved her,” Pinkie said. “Once she learned a cure was out there, she was going to work until she found it. If you hadn’t helped, she would’ve gone to all the places you did. How well do you think she would’ve done?”

Twilight didn’t answer. It didn’t feel like she had to. If Rarity had tried what Twilight herself had done, she’d be dead now, and Sweetie would still be a vampire.

“I’m still not sure what she’ll think about it,” Twilight eventually said. She glanced around them once, but there was nopony to overhear. “Every filly wants to grow up. She wants her cutie mark, and everything that goes with it. But what will she think when she’s old? Will she wish she’d done something else? Wish I’d… left her alone?”

Applejack appeared from the edge of the hill, with a huge bundle of streamers wrapped around a large stick. So she’d already started cleaning up.

Pinkie shrugged again. “She’s not the only one we have to worry about. Rarity; we have to do something about her. I was worried about you too, but… maybe not so much anymore.” She glanced at her wings, but only for a second. “You don’t have a mark of harvest around your neck. So I guess you have more than four seasons left.”

“Quite a bit more. Still not sure if I made the right choice about that either.”

Pinkie rose, gathering up Twilight’s trash and turning back to the party. “I’m going to help clean up. Before you ask, don’t worry about it. You’ve done enough. Just get some rest yourself. And maybe go on vacation before the next adventure—it doesn’t look like you’ve had a good night’s sleep in months.”

She was right of course, though Twilight wasn’t about to admit it. She watched Pinkie go from the edge of the stage. Without prompting from her, Spike was already helping the growing cleanup crew. She would have to do something special for that dragon after all his help in the last few months.

“Princess.” Not Regolith’s voice, thankfully for him. If he’d appeared from the trees behind her now, she might’ve blasted him with magic without any regard for the treaty. “Do you have a moment?”

Princess Luna didn’t emerge from the orchard, and the apple trees nearby kept her form mostly concealed. None of the ponies working to clean up would see her.

Twilight finally rose, and turned to follow. “I didn’t have any other plans for the night.” She followed her into the dark, away from the sound of low voices as they worked.

Luna waited until Twilight had joined her to start walking, further into the trees. “I’ve dispatched the last of the creatures your cure summoned here. I don’t believe the population of your town were any the wiser.”

Neither was I. Twilight’s eyebrows went up, and she stared at the moon princess. She wore thin armor on her back, and a sword around her waist. Twilight now recognized the design of both, since she’d worn them herself.

“I didn’t know we would be… in danger. I wouldn’t have invited the town. I’m sure Rarity wouldn’t have tried to make the surprise happen on the same day as—”

Luna stuck out a wing. “It is alright. I’ve been aware of the process since the first day. Agent Rarity had earned a little gratitude from my organization. If anyone deserved this, it was her.”

Twilight tensed, looking away. “Do you agree with your older sister, Princess Luna? Do you think ponies are better off not knowing… everything I’ve figured out?”

Luna didn’t seem instantly confident as Celestia had been. Instead she hesitated and didn’t meet Twilight’s eyes. “My sister loves Equestria and its ponies. But I don’t always agree with her. I believe our history together is enough to illustrate that.”

Somepony doesn’t need subtlety lessons from a vampire.

“I don’t like it,” Twilight said. Now that the words left her mouth, she felt incredibly childish. But once she started… “Not telling everypony. Equestria’s ponies are clever, hardworking… I think they’d be able to prepare a way to fight if they understood the dangers. Keeping us from knowing doesn’t make the dangers go away.”

“Us,” Luna repeated, one eyebrow raised. She stopped walking, touching a wing briefly over Twilight’s shoulder. “Even if you don’t agree with my sister, there is one thing I hope you bear in mind in the next few centuries. The state of affairs that exists in Equestria today is one she cultivated carefully. Making her subjects forget about the atrocities of Nightmare Moon, and the other dangers that lurk in the darkness beyond their sight. Celestia has created prosperity in her way. What took her centuries to build, you could destroy in days.”

Luna might be right. Though… it was hard to imagine Celestia not fighting back. Geez, am I imagining fighting her in the first place? What the hay is getting into me?

“Will you?” Luna asked. Twilight winced, realizing then that she wasn’t even sure how long she’d been standing there, silent.

She shook her head. “Not this moment. And probably not everything. If I wrote a tell-all about my last few months, I’d be confined. But there must be somewhere to start, something least dangerous and most important for everypony to understand. Vampires, maybe.”

“Good luck,” Luna said. “But maybe you can succeed where I failed. Even after living here for years, I still often fail to understand modern ponies. But you should know that if you do fight against the status quo, my sister will oppose you. Not… violently. She won’t try to throw you into a dungeon. But Alicorns have always been in conflict. She represents one order, and she will try to protect it.”

For a few minutes, Twilight said nothing at all, just staring up at the evening sky. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” she admitted, eventually. “Probably vacation in Kumari for a bit now that this is over. Or… wait, I almost forgot. I’ve got an apprentice to worry about. So maybe I’ll vacation in Kumari with Sweetie Belle.”

As she thought about it, an idea was forming in her head. The filly was tough, and she already knew about at least one aspect of the unseen world. She would make a perfect test-subject to gauge the reactions of the average pony to the supernatural.

Besides, now that Twilight knew where the danger was, she could safely bring Spike too, if he still wanted anything to do with her.

“Then enjoy your vacation.” Princess Luna spread her wings, then took off. “While you can.”

Author's Notes:

And thus we come to the end of this story. Obviously there's more that could be said about a universe where all this is taking place, and certainly the stories of these characters go on--but this is where we leave them.

I'd like to thank anyone who was with me since the beginning who made it to the end. A hiatus of almost two years was pretty rough--but I don't want to walk away from Fimfiction without finishing every story. (I'm not going anywhere for some time yet, so don't get too excited.

Those who want to hang out, I still have a discord server in which I can usually be reached, linked below.

https://discord.gg/J8hq6MX